IDLE HOUR STORIES

 * * * * *

 BY EUGENIA DUNLAP POTTS

 Author of "The Song of Lancaster, " "A Kentucky Girl in Dixie, " "Short Mountain Trail, " "Stories for Children, " "The Housekeepers' Olio, " and "Home Talks. "

 * * * * *

 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR

 * * * * *

 PRESS OF J. L. RICHARDSON & CO. LEXINGTON, KY. 1909

 * * * * *

 DEDICATED

 To the memory of my beloved and only son, George Dunlap Potts, whose young eyes watched with affectionate interest the weaving of these fancies. 

 * * * * *

TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

 A THRILLING EXPERIENCE A CLUSTER OF RIPE FRUIT THE GHOST AT CRESTDALE HER CHRISTMAS GIFT IN A PULLMAN CAR IN OLD KENTUCKY HIS GRATITUDE THE SINGER'S CHRISTMAS TURNING THE TABLES HOW SHE HELPED HIM THE IRON BOX THE GIRL FARMERS PROVING A HEART HEZEKIAH'S WOOING A SUMMER DAISY TREESA MY FIRST JURY CASE THREE VISITS IN EASTER DAWN IN THE MAMMOTH CAVE

 POEMS

 REVERIE THE MISER AND THE ANGEL REST THE CHANGED CROSS

 * * * * *

A Thrilling Experience

MIGHT vs. RIGHT

It is some years since I was station-master, telegraph-operator, baggage-agent and ticket seller at a little village near some valuableoil wells. 

The station-house was a little distance from the unpretentiousthoroughfare that had grown up in a day, and my duties were so arduousthat I had scarcely leisure for a weekly flitting to a certain mansionon the hill where dwelt Ellen Morris, my promised wife. In fact, it waswith the hope of lessening the distance between us that I had undertaken these quadruple duties. 

The day was gloomy, and towards the afternoon ominous rolls of thunderportended a storm. 

Colonel Holloway, the well-known treasurer of the oil company, had beenin the village several days. About one o'clock he came hurriedly intothe office with a package, which he laid upon my desk, saying:

"Take care of that, Bowen, till to-morrow. I am going up the road. "

The commission was not an unusual one, and my safe was one of Marvin'sbest. I counted the money, which footed up into the thousands, placedit in the official envelope, affixed the seals, and deposited it in thesafe. As I turned away from the lock, a voice at the door said:

"Say, mister, can you tell me the way to the post office?"

A sort of shock went through me at the unexpected presence that seemedto have dropped down from nowhere, and I replied irritably:

"You could not miss it if you tried. Keep straight ahead. "

Soon large drops of rain came down, then faster and more furiously, tillthe air was one vast sheet of water, and little rivers leaped madlyalong the gullies and culverts. Forked lightning kept pace with thepealing thunder, and heaven's own artillery seemed let loose. 

Anything more dismal or dreary could not well be imagined, and graduallythe loneliness grew very oppressive. Every straggler had fled toshelter, and the usual idlers had deserted the platform. 

But I resolutely set to work at the dry statistics of the station-books, with an occasional call to the wires, which were ticking like mad, sofierce was the electric current. 

It was near five o'clock when a long freight train came lumbering by, switched off a car or two, then dragged its slow length onward. Thiscreated a brief diversion, then once more I was deserted. 

The next passenger train was not due till ten o'clock. I lit the lampsand resigned myself with questionable patience to the intervening hours. An agreeable interruption came in the form of my supper, which wasbrought in a water-proof basket by a sort of jack-at-all-trades whom wecalled Jake. Shaking himself like a great dog, he "lowed there wa'n'tmuch more water up yonder nohow. "

"I hope not, indeed, " I said, glad of the sound of a human voice. "Jake!" I called, as he left the office, "come back as soon as youcan--I may need you. "

I had a vague idea of despatching some sort of report to Ellen that Ihad not been entirely washed away, and obtaining a similar comfort asto her own fate. I little thought how I should need him. 

I think I am not by nature more timid than other men, but as the dismalevening closed in I took from my desk two revolvers kept ready forpossible emergencies, and laid one upon the desk where I was makingfreight entries and the other on the table where the electric batterystood. At intervals a fresh package for the night express was broughtby some dripping carrier, who deposited it, got his receipt, hung aboutfor a few minutes, then hastened away to more comfortable quarters. 

Still the rain poured in torrents. It must have been nearly nine o'clockwhen a wagon, hurriedly driven, pulled up suddenly at the platform. In amoment the door was flung open, and I saw a small ambulance well knownabout the village. Two men sprang out, and with the help of the driverand his assistant, proceeded to lift out a box which from its dimensionscould contain only one kind of freight, to wit, the remains of a humanbeing. 

Carefully placing this box in a remote corner of the room, near otherboxes awaiting transportation, the driver and his man returned to theirwagon, while the two strangers approached the desk to enter theirghastly freight. They wore slouched hats and were very wet. Theyproduced a death certificate of one John Slate, who had died at a farmhouse several miles away, of a non-contagious complaint, and was to beshipped to his friends down the road. This was all. There was nothingsingular about it, and yet when the door closed upon the strangers andI was again alone, or worse than alone a feeling of awe came over me. Clearly the storm had somewhat unstrung me. 

Only one hour till the train was due, after which I could turn in forthe night. 

A louder peal of thunder shook the house, and fiercer flashed thelightning. Minute after minute went by, and each seemed an age. Theroar and din of the elements only deepened the gloom inside, where theuncertain kerosene lamp darkened the shadows. 

Suddenly to my overstrained nerves the ceaseless clicking of theinstrument seemed to say, "Watch the box--watch the box--watch the box. "As a particular strain of melody will at times repeat itself in themind, and obstinately keep time to every movement, till one is well-nighdistracted, so this refrain began to enchain every sense: "Watch thebox--watch the box--watch the box. " Till now my depressed spirits weredue only to the solitude and the storm. No suspicion of evil or dangerhad tormented me. 

Peering more closely into the dingy corner, I saw only the ordinary pinebox, with what seemed to be a square paper, or placard, on the sidefacing me. Probably the address, bunglingly adjusted on the side insteadof the top, or else a stain of mud from the late rough drive. At allevents I was not curious enough to approach more nearly the ghostlyvisitant. 

Ten minutes had crept by, when a muffled noise in the dark cornerdistinctly sounded above the pelting raindrops, while as if to mock atmy quickened fears, the wires continued their monotonous warning, "Watch the box--watch the box--watch the box. " I did watch the box, andnow as if by inspiration I grasped the situation. There was indeed a manin the box, but not a dead one. A living man who had boldly lent himselfto a plot to rob or murder me, or perhaps both. 

I remembered the straggler who had surprised me while at the safe, several hours before. He had doubtless followed Col. Holloway andwitnessed the money transaction. Quick and fast flew my thoughts in thestartled endeavor to grasp some plan of action. Single-handed I was nomatch for any man, having recently recovered from an attack of malarialfever. This one in the box (if indeed there was one) must mean to securethe prize before the train was due, and escape the consequences. He musthave accomplices, and these were doubtless on watch, either to give orreceive a signal. At least it was not probable that he would undertakethe job alone, and the fact that he had confederates had alreadyappeared. 

Perhaps the sight of my pistol had delayed the attack. Perhaps some partof their plan had miscarried and caused delay. At all events I must becool. I fancied I saw his eyes through the dark patch on the box. I wasalmost sure he was slowly lifting the lid. There was no help near, andmuch might be done in the time still to elapse before the train was due. 

Quietly walking to the battery, I feigned to take a message. In realityI sent one to the conductor of the on-coming express, as the only devicewhereby I could secure assistance, and this would doubtless come toolate. Yet it was all I could do just now. 

With every sense on the alert I arose to secrete my key if possible, when the door burst open, and Frank Morris, my future brother-in-law, rushed in, followed by a huge dog that was Ellen's special pet andattendant. 

"Confound you!" said Frank, spluttering about and shaking himself asvigorously as the dog. "I'll be blowed if I ever go on such a fool'serrand as this. "

"Why you are pretty well 'blowed'" I said, with a poor attempt to befunny, but immensely relieved. 

"I never was so glad to see anybody in my life!" and I meant it. 

"There it is, " he said; "make much of it" as he cleverly flipped alittle white missive over to me. "Such billing and cooing I never wantto see again. Regular spoons, by jove! Can't go to sleep till she knowsyou have not been melted, or washed away, or something. And Cato mustcome along to see that her precious brother doesn't get lost. Ugh! Liedown over there, old fellow!" Then to me he said; "Here help me out ofthis wet thing. "

But I was engrossed just then, so ridding him of the offending garment, the broad-shouldered young athlete strode about the room in mockimpatience. 

"Heavens! what a night!" he exclaimed. "What time does your train pass?Ten? Just three minutes. I guess I'll stay; but we will have that youngdamsel floating down here if she doesn't hear pretty soon. "

"Hello, Cato, what's the matter?" as the dog gave a low growl, "what'sthat in the corner, Bowen?"

The dog continued to growl and look suspiciously as the young fellowrattled on. "That, " I said, "is a dead man. "

"Humph!" he laughed. "Jolly good company for such a night. I say, Bowen, you've got a nice toy there, " and he took up the pistol that lay on thetable. In the meanwhile I had scrawled on piece of paper, which I hadquietly placed near the pistol: "The man in the box is a burglar. Beready for an attack. "

"Oh that's the game!" he said aloud, and instantly strode across theroom, as Cato sprang up and barked furiously at the box. Simultaneouslythe top of the box flew up, and uttering a shrill whistle, the mansprang to a sitting posture, while through the wide-flung door theother two ruffians appeared with pistols cocked, At once there began adeadly struggle. The dog had leaped upon the box and knocked the "dead"man's pistol out of his hand, as Frank shouted, "Toho Cato!" unwillingthat the dog should tear him to pieces, but wishing to keep him at bay. 

"Your keys!" yelled the other men; "or by heavens, you'll drop!"

Instantly closing in, man to man, the fierce struggle went on amidshouts, oaths and pistol shots. 

"Call off your cursed dog!" screamed the "dead" man continually. 

The encounter, which had occupied scarcely a minute, was at itsdeadliest, both Frank and I endeavoring to disarm rather than kill, whenthe whistle of the train sounded, and in another moment the conductorand his men were among us, "Seize that scoundrel!" shouted Frankbreathlessly, indicating the man in the box. "Here Cato!" and theobedient animal unwillingly retired, but continued his savage growl. 

At this juncture my man fell to the floor, badly wounded in the leg, anduttering groans and imprecations. It was quick work to secure the men, and Jake, who opportunely reappeared, was sent to summon the villagepolice. Some of the passengers, impatient at the delay, had got wind ofthe adventure, and now crowded into the station in no little excitement. The box was found to have a false side-piece next to the wall, which waseasily pushed down by the man inside, for greater comfort in his crampedposition; and there were besides a number of air holes. It was themoving of the side-panel that caused the muffled noise I had heard. 

I was questioned in all possible ways, and the curiosity of thepassengers was fully gratified amid the clamor of the prisoners, whocontinually swore at each other. "What did you wait so infernal longfor?" said one of them, glaring at the "dead" man. 

"What was your infernal hurry?" retorted the other, sarcastically. 

It was plain from the quarrel that ensued that the sight of my pistolsand my evident uneasiness, together with effect of the fearful storm, which confused all signals, had unsettled the fellow's plan, and hadrobbed him of his presence of mind. While puzzling as to the safestcourse, the sudden entrance of Frank and the dog had precipitated thecatastrophe. 

The men were conducted to the County Jail, and I was the hero of thehour, although I could not claim much credit for personal valor in thematter. 

Was it Fate or Providence that befriended me? But for my presentiment, or what ever it might be, I should have urged Frank's immediate returnto my anxious betrothed. But for her loving anxiety he never would havecome down on such a night. But for the dog one of us must have beenkilled. And first of all, but for the instinctive sense of danger thetelegraph wires would never have spoken a warning to my excited fancy;and this manifest feeling of apprehension, though I strove hard toconceal it, held the man in the box at bay. 

The practical result of the episode was a more commodious station-house, and more men on duty. My salary was raised; but eventually I gave up thesituation because my wife could never feel satisfied to have me performnight work after the fearful experience I have related. 

As to Frank, he is not backward with explosive English whenever thesubject is mentioned, and no amount of persuasion could ever reconcileCato to the station-room. 

A Cluster of Ripe Fruit

CHARACTER STUDY

They were five sisters, all unmarried; they lived in the old Dutch townthat was made memorable by Barbara Frietchie's exploits. They neverhoisted a Union flag, or did any grand thing; but they deserve a placein story just the same. Their name was Peyre, and the young peoplecalled them "The Pears", not in derision, for the regard they inspiredwas little short of veneration. Their ages ranged from sixty-five toeighty years when I first knew them. Unlike the Hannah More quintette, they were not literary. But no hive of busy bees was ever moreindustrious than they in the line of purely feminine accomplishments. 

"The Pears" were not poor, but they were frugal. They owned acomfortable two-story brick house on a quiet street, and let theirground floor to a small tradesman. The way to the sisters led alonga smoothly-paved side alley, all fenced in, through a little kitchenwith spotless floor and shining tins, up a narrow, crooked, snow-whitestairway, and finally through funny little chambers, up two steps, ordown three, till the workshop was reached. There they sat, clean andfresh and busy, each in her own nook; and just there they might havebeen found every day these sixty years. 

The workshop had the appearance of tidy fullness. An everlasting quiltwas stretched across the end window, and here Miss Becky had laid herchalk-lines and pricked her fingers through several generations. Thefaithful fingers were brown and crooked, she said, from rheumatism; buthow could they be straight when eternally bent over the patchwork?Surely the quilt was not always the same; yet the frames were neverempty, and the chair was never vacant. 

Miss Polly was housekeeper and cook, with Miss Phoebe to run errands, dothe marketing, visit the needy, and supervise generally. Some one musthave done the mending and darning and laundry work, but I never saw anyof that. 

Miss Sophie (the sisters said Suffy) was the knitter and her needleswere never still. Always a gray yarn stocking, and never any appearanceof the finished pair. Go when you would, --and the dear ladies were notalone many hours, --the knitting was on and going on. 

Miss Chrissy was the beauty. Ages ago there had been a tradition of alover, but nothing came of it. Perhaps they had all five lived out theirlittle romances--who could tell? A certain homage was paid to thebeauty. Her once brilliant auburn hair had paled to grayish sandy bandsthat lay smooth under a cap which was always a little pretentious. Herdark eyes and smiling lips made the soft white old face passing fair. Miss Chrissy was the embroiderer and needle-work artist. Her treasuresof scallops and points and eyelets and wheels, all traced in ink uponbits of letter-paper, were kept in a big square yellow box that wasbristling and bursting at all points. 

This box was marvellous. There could never have been but one other inthe world; and that I had seen under my great-grandmother's bed, the bedthat had its dainty white frill, and its glazed calico curtains of gayparadise birds. They were all of a piece and not easily forgotten. Thebox had seen hard service among the "Pears. " It was cross-stitched upand down the corner's along the bottom and the top, and all around. Itnever occurred to them to get a new one. Like their old Bible, itsplaces could be found. 

I went, one frosty autumn day, to get a pattern for silk embroidery. Stamping-blocks and tracing-wheels were unknown quantities to MissChrissy. Her stumpy little pencil--and that, too, seemed always thesame--had to do the transfering. She liked a bit of harmless gossip, dear soul; and the young girls of the town made a point of supplying thelack of a newspaper with their busy tongues. So she knew at once whoI was. 

"Oh, " she said, with her kindly smile, "you are young Mrs. John: Iremember when your husband was a babe. I think I can find it;--yes, itis down in this corner, "--rummaging in the yellow box; "here it is--thepattern your aunt, --Mrs. John, selected for your husband's first shortdress. All the Hunt family were customers of ours. Mrs. John, shethey called Aunt Lou, was a great favorite. She was rich, and had nochildren. Well, she came one day all in a flurry to get a pattern--anice wide one she said, for little John's dress. He was the first baby, and they fairly idolized him. This is it. I recollect the wheel and theovercasting. It was--let me see--forty years ago, come this December. Now, this little scallop is as popular as any" and she fished upanother, all full of needle-pricks. "Some ladies don't like muchembroidery, but they want a little finish. This one trimmed a set oflinen for Mrs. Senator Jones. It took me a good while to draw it. Shedon't like this turn in the corner, so I made up something else. Youknow I design my own patterns. "

Then resisting the temptation to give the history of the rest of herfavorites, she put the box aside and turned her attention to the quartbottle in hand, with its strip of muslin stretched tight around it, over a bewildering collection of grapes and leaves. This was her method, and the admiring sisters thought it perfect. 

That night I teased John's mother into hunting up the dress, and therewas the identical pattern, edging the fine white cambric now yellow withage. She was amused at my report of Miss Chrissy. 

In my annual journeyings to the old town I never neglected "The Pears. "They always looked as if I had just stepped out for an hour, and comeback. The carpet did not wear out; the stove never lacked luster; thetiny window-panes were always just washed, and the diligent fingers wenton just the same. They had a quaint way not easy to describe. When onetalked all the rest chimed in with little whispering echoes, to supportthe assertion; and yet they did not seem to interrupt. They were to meliving wonders, so perfectly unspotted from the world, so earnest intheir pigmy money-making, and so thoroughly united, I felt consumed withcuriosity as to their inner life. They must sometimes put by thequilting and the knitting and the patterns. 

"How do you interest yourselves evenings, Miss Chrissy?" I asked, halfashamed of the question. 

"Oh, we read, " she said, smiling her ready smile. "Yes, read, " echoedMiss Suffy and the rest. "We read Sunday-School books, and our Bible, of course. Sometimes we don't go to bed till ten o'clock. "

"Ten o'clock--o'clock--o'clock, " assented the gentle voices. It was notsilly; the smiling faces all wore the sweet, simple look of guilelesschildhood. 

Miss Suffy's window overlooked a time honored graveyard, where grayslabs were tottering. Next to her beloved patterns and their variedexperiences, Miss Chrissy liked to tell of scenes and memories suggestedby these somber reminders. 

"It was a very cold day, Mrs. John, " (so she always called me), "whenthey buried your husband's uncle out there. Poor fellow! He was shotat Buena Vista. A cannon-ball took off both his legs, and went rightthrough the horse he rode. He was a gallant officer. They thought atfirst he would rally. The surgeons did their work quickly, and hesuffered little or no pain, but there was no chloroform in that day, andhe died from the shock. The snow was deep on the ground, but it was agrand funeral. They've got a fine new cemetery out on the hill, but wenever go there. Our dead are all here where we can see their graves. "

"Graves, " came the echo, they had all along nodded, or murmured, assent. 

"One of the saddest funerals we have ever seen. " Miss Chrissy went on, "was a double funeral. Two young men, both only sons, were drowned inthe river while bathing. Their mothers were widows. It was terrible. Twohearses and two long lines of mourners. There they lie--over there inthat enclosure. They were cousins, and were buried side by side. "

"The mothers, Chrissy!" mildly prompted the whisper, when the narratorpaused. 

"Yes, the mothers! one died of a broken heart, and the other lost hermind outright. She is living yet, an old woman, who regularly goes tothe front door of the asylum every morning and takes her seat. If it iscold weather, she sits inside. She asks every one who enters if Lutheris coming--that was her boy's name. "

"Did you know the first Mrs. John Hunt, Miss Chrissy--my husband'sgrandmother?" I asked, willing to change the gloomy subject. 

"Just as well as I know you, Mrs. John. She was a beautiful littlewoman, I was very young at the time I am thinking of. She sent at nightfor an embroidered flannel I was doing. It was my first wide pattern, and it went slow. At 10 o'clock it was finished, and my father went withme to take it home. They were all going to Washington to the President'sball--President Monroe, it was--and the trunk was packing. It was to goon the big traveling-coach. When I ran up stairs and knocked, --I hadoften been there before--she opened the door herself. 'Oh, it's youChrissy, ' she said in her pleasant way; 'come in child; don't you wantto see something pretty?' And she showed me two elegant brocaded silkgowns, very narrow and very short-waisted, but stiff enough to standalone. '

"She praised my work and said I was a good girl. Then she paid me themoney and tied a little blue silk handkerchief around my neck for akeepsake. 'There, ' she said, in her quick voice, 'you may go. ' I didmany other patterns for the family, but poor lady! she never saw meagain. She had an illness and lost her eyesight. She was stone blind formany years. I have the keepsake yet. It is put away in the hair-trunk. "

The sisters were all in full sympathy, as usual. Thus I sat and listenedscores of times, making a pretence of wanting a pattern, --anything toget Miss Chrissy story-telling. 

In the centennial year I found "The Pears" much shaken from their eventenor. The relic-hunters had penetrated their omnium gatherum andoffered fabulous sums for the quaint old bits they found there. One ofthem declared he must and would have these wonders for the New EnglandKitchen. But the sisters were outraged. Adroitly I managed to hint adesire to see those treasures inestimable, and then for the first time Imoved from my accustomed seat, and they moved from theirs. The magnitudeof their wrongs would admit of nothing like routine or monotony. Thechairs were pushed back, and I saw five tall, slim figures standingerect, in straight black gowns, white kerchiefs and spotless caps. Theywere devout Lutherans, and their pew at the Sunday service was nevervacant; but I had never seen them outside the workshop. 

We filed into the funny little chambers where were the high beds, withtheir steps to be climbed. What a wilderness of feathers and patchwork!Some of Miss Becky's work was there. The bureaus nearly to ceilings, ornamented with round glass knobs, had their little mirrors perchedup above my head. The candle stands, with spindle legs, wore anantediluvian look, and the chairs were just as queer. The more aspiringones were prim in starched antimaccassars. Even the footstools belongedto a prehistoric age. There was nothing costly or elegant, but so veryancient and even comical, I had never seen anything like it, anywhere. A few oil-paintings, hung in the very border of the huge-figured paper, were small, but evidently fine. 

"These things were brought from Alsace, " explained Miss Chrissy, as Icommented freely. "Elsace is the way to call it--and we can't bear tohave strangers meddling with what is sacred to us. "

"Sacred to us, " came from the procession behind. 

At last, pausing before a huge hair trunk, they all gathered nearer, andwhen the lid was raised, they vied with one another in displaying thecontents. It would take a great while to tell all that I saw, or theircurious little speeches and words and assents. There were samplers inevery style of lettering and color. The inevitable tombstone, with theweeping-willow and mourning female, was among them. Bits of paintedvelvet, huge reticules, bead purses; gay shawls, and curious lacecaps--all showed patient handiwork. Gifts and souvenirs were plentiful, even to the blue silk keepsake of the first Mrs. John. Then cameold-fashioned silver spoons and knives and tea-pots, heir-looms, theysaid, from the old country. A bit of coarse paper bore an order forsupplies for soldiers upon the Commissaire at Nice, and was signed withthe genuine autograph of the great Napoleon. Every article had itshistory, and rarely, if ever, was the little work-shop so long neglectedas on that occasion. When the procession filed back, I took leave withsomewhat the feeling of having been buried in wonderland, and suddenlyresurrected. 

Perhaps the shock of the dreaded vandalism was too much. Perhaps theexcitement of the hair trunk struck too deep. At all events. Miss Beckygrew to muttering over her quilt, and making long pauses. One day herneedle stuck fast in the patchwork, and her head quietly sank to rest onthe rolled frame. When I paid my next visit, they said, "You will findit very odd at The Pears's. Miss Becky is gone. "

I did find it odd. The quilt was rolled forever, and the end window wasempty. There was only the chair. Still Miss Suffy sat with her stocking, and Miss Chrissy with her patterns, placid and patient, --they were onlywaiting; yet working as they waited. Miss Polly sighed once in a whileover her pans. Miss Phoebe still went to market and distributed smallalms to the poor. Ripe in good works and in holy resignation were ThePears. 

"Our quilter is gone, " said Miss Chrissy. This time there was nowhispered echo; only a gentle sighing all around. But some of thescallops in the yellow box were not without fresh adventures; and theseI heard. 

That winter, Miss Phoebe fell on the slippery little side alley. Therewere no bones broken, but she, too, sank to rest in the old graychurchyard. 

It was three years before I went back. Then they said, "Miss Chrissy isalone. " Alone I found her. She was little changed. The brightness hadmerely gone from her smile. I noticed that her talk was less of herpatterns, and more of the gray slabs. She no longer clung to the proudlittle boast, "I design my own patterns. " She was apt to tell what Suffysaid, or Polly, or Phoebe, not forgetting Becky, our quilter. 

"No, " she said, when I asked: "Polly was not sick. She said in themorning, 'Chrissy, do you ever feel strange in your head?' Next morningshe did not wake up. Suffy was never as strong as the rest--her back wasbad; so when she had a sort of fit one day, it was soon over. "

"You don't--you can't--stay here all alone?"

"No, Mrs. John, Henrietta is with me. You know Henrietta? She belongs tothe people down stairs. I shan't forget her kindness. "

"Are you very lonely, Miss Chrissy?" I asked, choking down the tears. 

"No, not lonely. The dear Lord is with me; He will stay to the end. No, Mrs. John, not lonely. "

She had always refrained, in diffidence, or humility, from religioustalk. I know it was from no lack of deep spiritual conviction. If everthe world contained a purer, sweeter sisterhood, I have not known it. Their work was homely, as their lives were secluded, but no one eversaw them idle or impatient. In one straight and narrow path they walkedthrough earth's temptations to heaven's reward. 

One of the last things she said to me was that I should take some of thechoicest patterns to my western home, notably "little John's first shortdress edge. "

"You have been a helper to us in more ways than one. God will bless you, Mrs. John. "

"Is there nothing you would have me do now? Dear Miss Chrissy, do nothesitate to speak. "

She did hesitate. "I don't think of anything. My papers have long beendrawn up. Lawyer Thomas will attend to them. You know our little savingsare to go to the Home for Aged Women. "

I never saw her again. Sitting one day, placid and patient, she fellasleep over the yellow box; and when they lifted the soft white oldface, all was still. 

The Ghost at Crestdale

AN ADVENTURE

"Here we are, safe and sound, " cheerily said the driver of the hugeblack ambulance, as he pulled up before the piazza of Crestdale, thebeautiful villa whose tower had been tantalizing the travelers forseveral miles. 

A party of five descended from the wagon as the wide doors were flungopen by the housekeeper, and a kindly welcome greeted them, as well ascomfortable fires. 

"My! how cold it is, " exclaimed a fresh young voice, as the speakerhurried close to the generous heater. 

"Be careful, dear, or you will burn your coat, " warned an older lady, while a stalwart young fellow tenderly loosed the seal wrap in question. 

Placing the fair wearer in a great arm-chair, he said: "There, Mademoiselle Jessie, be a good girl--if you can. Now, sister ours, whatcan I do for you?" turning gallantly to the other lady. 

"Thanks, you foolish boy, " was the pleasant rejoinder; "look afterthose parcels and those live commodities shivering there. "

The live commodities were a maltese cat, a canary bird, and two rawrecruits from Erin; and the "foolish boy" at once set about assigningplaces for people and things. 

"There's a kitchen somewhere back here; come along, Michael. All right, Katie, follow me, and fetch the menagerie with you. "

Duly installing them in their domain, the young man made his way backthrough the wide, chilly rooms that intervened, and joined the ladieswho were fast making themselves at home. 

"A trifle bleak this, isn't it?" he said, rubbing his hands before theblazing logs. "But just take note of that fragrant beefsteak. Say, girls, I don't see any table set anywhere;" and he looked ruefullyaround. 

"Give us time, sir, " remonstrated the elderly lady. "Here is a move inthe right direction already, " she added, as the housekeeper entered withthe tea tray. 

"Mabel, can't we have muffins?" pleaded the young voice. 

"Muffins! Not on such short notice; but you may have toast and eggs. "

"You'll disenchant me with your enormous appetite, " chaffed the youngfellow, and got a saucy slap for his pains. 

"Riding hours and hours on that horrid train is enough to starve anyone, " was the ready defense; "you only came from New York. Come on, everybody, while the steak is hot. " And they gathered round to dojustice to the repast. 

Mabel and Jessie Winthrop were orphan sisters, the one fifteen years theelder, and was mother as well as sister to her idolized charge. Her ownlife romance was a buried chapter, and now she was chiefly concerned forthe happiness of the two young persons seated there. 

George Randolph was a distant cousin, and was to be married to JessieWinthrop in two weeks' time. They had come down to make ready theseaside villa, which was their favorite home. It stood upon a windingriver close to shore, and commanded a view of the surrounding countryfor many miles. 

It was an immense house, containing some twenty-five rooms, andfull of unexpected niches, nooks, and crannies. It was kept furnishedthroughout, but was locked up in the winter months. An unlooked-for coldwave, speeding from the northwest, had made the coming of theprospective bridal party a somewhat dreary affair. 

A few happy touches here and there transformed the gloom into cheer, andit was with renewed animation that they arose from their repast an hourlater. 

George was to return to the city next day, but would run down frequentlybefore the wedding day. Meanwhile this, their first evening, passedquickly and agreeably for all. 

The ensuing week was a busy one. A whole army of sweepers, dusters andrenovators were turned loose in and about the villa, and the good workwent on with a will. 

Michael took charge of a pony phaeton, and the sisters often drove in tothe village shops, two miles away, where the nearest railroad stationwas. It was necessary, however, that Mabel should make a final trip tothe city to purchase some articles, and she arranged her time so thatGeorge could return with her on the evening train. 

"You won't be afraid, darling?" was Mabel's fond question, as she madeout her list. 

"Afraid?" echoed the other. "Why, no; what is there to be afraid of? Itis perfectly safe here. "

"Yes, I know; otherwise, I would not leave you even for the day. "

"The house is big, " said Jessie, "but we have near neighbors. Besides, there's Mike and Katie, and Mrs. Lawrence. Oh, I'm all right, Mabeldear. "

"See that the house is securely fastened;" was Mabel's partinginjunction as she kissed her sister goodbye. "Look for us at the soundof the whistle to-night. "

"Indade, Miss Jessie, " said Katie a little later, her face in a pucker, "indade it's not right for the loikes af yees to be here all alone. "

"Why, Katie, what's the matter, " laughed the girl; "you don't call thisbeing alone, do you?"

"Ah, but haven't yees heard the quare noises in the tower, Miss Jessie?An' shure there's a ghost in this house--Holy Mother defind us!" andKatie piously crossed herself in real terror. 

"A ghost, Katie! I'm ashamed of you. It is only the wind. It blows herefearfully. You might turn a regiment loose in the house, and they couldscarcely make more noise than these big, rattling windows. "

"Arrah, me jewel, " protested Katie; "there's a turrible walkin' about inthe tower ivery night these two noights. An' didn't yees hear about theawful murther in the town over beyant us an' the murtherer iscapin'?Sich a quare murther, too, with the finger rings all left on, and themoney purse in the pocket. Ah, Miss Jessie, a murtherin' ghost won'tniver be laid. "

"You silly Kate!" said Jessie merrily. "Don't be afraid, I'll take careof the ghosts. We are all right. "

After a cup of tea and a bit of toast, Jessie repaired to her chamberon the second floor and picked up some trifle she was embroidering, tobeguile the time of waiting. Mabel and George would get in about nine, when they were to relate the day's doings around a good warm supper. 

Katie was to follow and sit with her mistress, after she had done somerighting up down stairs. Mike was bent upon routing an army of rats inthe barn. Mrs. Lawrence had retired to her room with a nervous headache. 

The high winds from the sea had lulled, and for once the house wasutterly quiet--so quiet that the stillness became oppressive. Meanwhilethe young girl sat in her bower of luxury, softly humming a favoriteair, and very happy in thoughts of her approaching marriage. While deepin her smiling reverie, a stealthy footstep distinctly sounded outsideher door. 

Raising her head, she had not time to feel a sensation of real fear, when cautiously her doorknob was turned and a head intruded itself whichstruck her as dumb as though Medusa had appeared, and drove thelife-blood in a frozen current to her head. 

The face was ghastly, the hair black and curling upon high, narrowshoulders, the figure slight and spare, and a pair of restless blackeyes were glittering swiftly and cunningly around the room. 

"Hist!" he said to the horror-stricken girl, softly closing the doorand turning the key; and if Jessie had a distinct thought in that awfulmoment, it was of thankfulness that the winter dampness had so warpedthe door that the key would not fairly catch in the lock, --a bit ofrepairing thus far overlooked in the wedding preparations. 

"Don't be frightened, " he continued, in his sibilant whisper; "you willtake care of me, won't you?"

But the girl's eyes only riveted themselves in more hopeless, helplessterror upon the apparition. Every muscle seemed paralyzed. 

He drew a chair to the open grate as if the fire were most welcome. 

"You see, " he said in his quaint, soft voice, "if they track me herethey may hang me, and they would be wrong--all wrong. I did not intendto kill her, but she would not hold still. "

At this he gave a blood-curdling laugh, and the horrible truth burstupon the listener's dazed senses. She was alone with a maniac. All thestories she had ever read rushed to her memory, and the only clearidea she had was the conviction that she must, if possible, humor hisvagaries till help came. She was a petted, spoiled darling, but shehad great strength of will, and she now called it into requisition. 

She hurriedly glanced at the clock, and calculated how long it would bebefore the train whistle could signal the coming of her dear ones. Alas!it was just eight. What, oh, what must she do? Of whom did he speak?Kill her? Kill whom? Then the mystery of the murdered girl darted intoher mind. Katie had been right then. There was in truth a murdered girl. Was this awful creature her slayer?

Suddenly, with a confidential gesture he bade her sit down with him. 

"I'll tell you about it, " he said; "if she had only kept still! But shescreamed and tried to run away, I can't stand noise!" He clapped hishands over his ears as if to shut out the echo of it. "I must have thisblood--this pure, young, life-giving stream. But she would not listen tome. Poor thing! It was too bad, wasn't it? Hey? Speak!" and he graspedher delicate wrist with a grip of steel. 

Trembling at the sound of her own voice, the girl commanded herself tosay:

"Yes; who was she?"

"I don't know, " he replied, seriously. "She was beautiful and fresh; shewas almost as fair as you, " letting his wild eyes roam over her. "I wasgetting away from that cursed place. Think of confining a man of mylearning in a madhouse! But that was just it. I had mastered the newtheory--the transfusion of blood. They wanted to steal my glory, so theylocked me in. But I outwitted them; I captured these and ran away. "

Laughing wildly but still under his breath, he took from his jacket ablack case of bright, new surgical instruments. 

"These were what I needed, " he continued, with a low chuckle; "I couldnot attain the goal without these beauties. " Caressingly he went overthem. "Lancet, probe, trocar, bistoury, tourniquet, "--mentioning thecollection, while he passed his fingers affectionately along the smallsharp knives. 

"For years and years, " he went on, "I have studied this theory. The onlything is to find a young, strong, healthy subject; I found her. I washiding in the bushes; she was on the highway; but she would not listento me. "

"You did not kill her?" the girl forced her dry lips to ask. 

"Nay, nay; that is an ugly word. I had to sacrifice her--I did not kill. Then the foolish mob came and I fled hither. But I had a bit of breadand meat; she dropped her basket of lunch. I've been hiding in yondertower, " pointing upward. "I thought I might find what I want; and now, my dear, you will help me, won't you?" This he said coaxingly. 

"Help you? What can I do?"

"Such a simple thing. Hold very still while I draw the rich red bloodfrom your pretty white throat. "

"You would not spoil my throat?" pleaded Jessie in winning tones, withthe courage born of despair; "such a very little throat, " clasping hersoft fingers about it in unconscious paraphrase of King Hal's haplessqueen. 

"But where else can I find the glorious stream so rich and red?" heargued, with a perplexed frown. "It must be transfused into my ownveins, that I, too, may be young again. "

"But not the throat! I could not sing any more then. "

"Ah, so--I heard you singing; it was not loud; it pleased me. Yes, 'twould be a pity. Well, I'll tell you what I will do. I'll open a veinin your arm--just here, " laying his finger on the round white member. "This will quicken the nervous centers. Then I will cut my own arm andinsert your blood at the opening till the two life-currents mingle inone stream. "

He paused and reflected a moment. The generous warmth of the fire, together with the terrified girl's enforced quiet manner, were evidentlysoothing to him. 

"Listen now, very closely: Here is my greatest scientific discovery. Ido not mean to impart the secret to another. It is the _transfusion ofbrain!_ Some other man's head got on to my shoulders, and my brain isall wrong. Now with your red blood charged in my veins, and your youngactive brain absorbed into my own uncertain head, I shall find theelixir of life, and you will not have lived in vain. "

Gracious Heaven! Did she hear aright? She had submitted to blood-lettingonce to gratify an old family physician, who insisted upon the remedy;and she felt almost brave enough to endure the operation again, if itwould only kill time and satisfy her tormentor. But to cut into herbrain! Merciful God! What should she do? She could not escape, for hewatched her with cat-like vigilance. Scream she dare not, for so did theother frightened victim. She _must_ try to gain time. 

With a rapt expression he continued: "Since the days of Esculapius therehas been no such transcendent theory as this which is to make me famous. All my weary nights of thought and days of study are to be rewarded atlast. Come child, are you ready? It will not hurt you. Only a littlepin-prick, and no pain. I would not pain you my dear. "

What if he should let her bleed to death! Oh sister, oh lover, come, orshe would die of horror, if not the knife! And Katie--why didn't shecome! At this moment the sound of the train whistle in the distancebroke on the stillness of the night. How could she gain ten minutesmore? The man had not noticed the sound. 

"What do you wish?" she asked sweetly, "What shall I get for you?"

"Only a handkerchief and a basin, " he replied coolly, still fingeringa sharp lancet. "You are not afraid? Good girl; now for my crowningvictory!"

As a sleep-walker she procured the articles and bared her arm. Tenderlyhe was binding it above the blue veins, when she said in winning tones:

"Let me tell you how I think would be the best way to do this--may I?"and she fixed her large eyes upon him in entreaty. He paused, and shecontinued:

"Now let me tie your arm in the same way. You open your own vein withthe lancet, then open mine, and quickly after mix the two while theblood is warm. Do you see? You can't fail if you do it that way. "

He looked at her. She did not flinch. 

"Perhaps you are right; very well. "

She arose as deliberately as she dared and went to her dresser foranother handkerchief. At the moment she opened the linen case her ears, strained to the utmost, caught a murmur from below stairs. Turningquickly to see if the man also had heard, the door was pushed open andKatie's neat cap filled the aperture. 

 * * * * *

"Get on as fast as you can, driver, " said George Randolph, as he andMabel took seats in the village stage. Then turning to his companion, hesaid in reassuring tones: "Don't be frightened, dear; she is all right. "

"I know it is foolish, " said Mabel, half crying; "but those wretchedplacards made me nervous, and all that talk about escaped murderers andlunatics. I am fairly beside myself; do hurry!"

As the wide portals of Crestdale appeared, Mabel cried, in suddenterror:

"Something is wrong, George; see how dim the lights are! She would neverwelcome us like this. Don't wait to ring; open the doors!"

As George fitted his key in the lock and swung wide the door, a shrillscream from above made their blood curdle. Shriek upon shriek followed, as Katie came bounding down the stairs, almost knocking backward thetwo who ran past her to Jessie's room. White and lifeless they foundher, prostrate, her arm still bound with the handkerchief. She had risennobly to the awful emergency, but succumbed when relief came. 

In vain Katie continued a shriek that a murtherer was in the room. Theanxious watchers bent over their stricken darling, who was now lying onher own bed and beginning to show signs of life. 

Before they could ascertain what had happened, for Katie was crazed andincoherent from fright, a furious ringing of the bell sounded long andloud. Michael opened the door to a party of men who were in pursuit ofa strange-looking person whose face had been seen at the tower window;whether an escaped lunatic from the state asylum, or an escaped murdererfor whom a large reward was offered, remained to be proved. 

The search was instituted with George Randolph at the head. The victimwas soon unearthed, but in a moment, laughing wildly in the frenzy ofmadness, he darted out upon the roof and, rather than be captured, dashed himself to the pavement below. 

All night they sat beside the brave girl, and bit by bit heard herstory. For days she was ill from the shock of her fearful experience. The wedding was very quiet, but George refused to have it deferred. 

It was months before the bride could summon courage to live atCrestdale, and she was a much older woman before she could refer withcomposure to Katie's murtherin' ghost. 

Her Christmas Gift

A WHITE RIBBON STORY

She was born on Christmas Day, and so came, with her little whiteface and solemn eyes, into her pale mother's life. She was worse thanfatherless. The beast of a man she might have come to call by thatsacred name, would now be beside the snowy cot, weeping in maudlinrejoicing over his new treasure, if the mother had not resolutely puthim away some six months before. 

The world knew him as Judge Barrett, a man of fine family, superbtalents, and a magnetic orator. He might be, perhaps, too convivial onoccasions, but was not this a common frailty among Kentucky's greatmen? The wife knew him as besotted and disgusting. What mattered hislearning, his eloquence, his aristocratic blood, or ample income? To heralone he brought his degraded mass of humanity day after day; and thoughnever personally unkind to her, or to the little boy that died, she wasenabled by the might of her tearless agony beside that tiny bier, to cutthe last tie that bound her to the blear-eyed creature sobbing on theother side. The last tie? Ah, woe was she! The coming time brought intoher desolate life the frail link she must now take up; and in the firstbitter realization of her wronged womanhood, the mother-love laydormant. 

As the months went by the little Ruth twined herself in every fiberabout that lonely mother's heart, till she was loved with a love thatwas pain. So jealously guarded, too, that never once had the father'seyes fallen upon her, not even by chance. In vain he sent appeals justto look on his little daughter; he would ask no more. He was refused, and the baby's nurse did not dare transgress. 

By-and-by Ruth was old enough to understand; and then she wanted to knowwho her papa was, and why he never came home as Masie Morrow's did. Atthis her mother would be terrified, and clasping her treasure close, would tell her she must never ask about her papa; he was a dreadful man. 

"Like Jack, the Giant-killer, mumzie?"

"Oh, my dearie, he is a great deal worse. "

Again Ruth said; "I know, mumzie, my papa is a great black thing likethe pictures on the circus papers!"

So it came to pass that Miss Ruth fell to thinking about her father tillit got to be a sort of mania with her--wondering and wondering what itall meant. Her life was secluded, but she was fondly attached to hergrandparents and to a number of friends who were received at the house, while her mother was most tenderly enshrined in the faithful littleheart. 

The mother had a comfortable income, and provided her little girl withthe best masters. She was a quaint, white-faced, solemn-eyed creature, as she had been from the first. She said "old" things, her black nursedeclared, and she knew her little "missy" was under a spell. If so, thespell was tempered by an almost idolatrous love on the mother's part. 

When she was getting to be a romping big girl, she had just as queerways; too old for a child, though the sober, owl-like look began tosoften to an earnest expression, which on occasions verged upon atwinkle in the deep blue eyes. Distant friends were now writing lettersof inquiry, and her father's relatives persistently urged Mrs. Barrettto send the child to them for a visit. At last she took Ruth and went;she would not trust her out of her sight. She was a pale, pretty, gentle-looking woman, with a will of iron. It was to Judge Barrett'ssister, Mrs. Stanton, in a neighboring town, that they came. They wereafraid to mention his name, or hint at a possible reconciliation; butthey managed to make the young Ruth very much in love with her newaunt, and merry, pretty cousins. 

Meanwhile her father had gone from bad to worse, a confirmed drunkard, though rarely too far gone to make an eloquent stump-speech whenoccasion required. So popular was he that he had the sympathy of thecommunity in his domestic estrangement. Some said his wife was too hardand unforgiving; all agreed that he should have been permitted to seehis child. 

Ruth was seventeen years old and had long since exerted her filialinfluence to the extent of going to her aunt, Mrs. Stanton, whenevershe wished. She had come to be quite a sensation in her father's nativevillage, his hosts of friends readily tracing a likeness to himself. Shewas a sweet, rather wilful maiden, not exactly pretty, but very refinedand attractive. 

Judge Barrett had always found a bed at his sister's, no matter atwhat hour of day or night he chose to stagger in; but the large familycombined efforts to prevent the contretemps of a meeting between him andRuth. Their promise to her mother was too sacred for trifling, and theyloved the girl too well to risk being deprived of her society. Destiny, or chance, was too strong for them. It was on a bright, sunlit day, whenRuth was in an animated discussion with her cousin Roger upon the meritsof Vassar College, recently thrown open to young women, which hedeclared was only a place where they transformed a girl into a boy. 

"Never go there, Coz, if you wish to retain an iota of your womanhood. "

"Prejudice, prejudice;" she retorted. "I do believe in the highereducation of women and I am certainly going to Vassar, if I can persuademy mother to part from me so long. "

"Why not take her with you?" Mrs. Stanton was saying, when horror ofhorrors, there appeared at the side door of the large sitting-rooma flushed and tangled-looking creature, tottering and righting upalternately. All eyes were turned upon him, and every voice was dumb. Steadying himself within the door, he slowly surveyed the young facesgrouped there, till his bloodshot gaze fell upon Ruth's white, wonderingcountenance. Perhaps she reminded him of the wife who had repudiatedhim. Perhaps some dawning instinct was at work. He staggered up to thegirl, who never once turned her eyes, and placing a hand upon her head, said in the words of Childe Harold: "Is thy face like thy mother's, myfair child?"

Tears sprang to every eye; but Ruth, first gasping as with a revelationfrom some long-dormant recess of her brain, arose, and catching his handas it fell powerless, burst out:

"_Who_ are you? Are you my--father? Oh, tell me!" she appealed tothe group about her--"my father?" and stood breathless before him. 

The word seemed to sober him with a mighty shock. He sank upon hisknees, her hands still clasping his, and burying his hot face in hercool palms, murmured in choking accents:

"Her father--my child--my God, I thank thee!"

But the strain was too much. In a moment more he sank all in a heap uponthe floor, limp and lifeless. 

Passionately the girl knelt beside him, and looked searchingly into hisnow colorless face, while the others hastened with restoratives. Nor didshe leave him during the days of illness that followed, except whenobliged to rest. Little by little they had told her the story. 

She only said: "Oh, I never dreamed he was like this. I used to thinkhe must be something inhuman, horrible. Then I found myself staring atevery stranger, especially if he was monstrous, or in the least hideous. But I had given up all hope, and was afraid to ask. "

"No, my dear child;" soothingly said her aunt, "your father is nothorrible, or hideous except that he is the slave of drink. He is notinhuman, but a tender, loving creature. He is a gentleman, cultured andlearned. There is nothing fine in the language he cannot repeat, sowonderful is his gift of memory. Oh, my child, can you not--will you nothelp him? You can win him, I feel sure. "

Ruth learned to love her father by reason of his idolatrous devotionto her, as well as the powerful influence of his brilliant talents. Inthose first days of convalescence he followed her feebly from room toroom, drinking in the joy of having her after the privation of years;and one day folding her to his breast said:

"My precious child--my beautiful daughter--hear your father's vow! Comewhat will, nevermore shall a drop of the accursed fire pass my lips. Iwill redeem our name--I can and I will. "

He kept his word. Ruth went to Vassar. She wrote long, loving letters toher mother and father every week of her school life. Once she said toher mother:

"You know what I wish, my darling mamma. You know that I long to unitemy two beloveds; but never shall I ask it. You must follow your ownheart. I believe my father will be worthy of us; I shall be guided byyou alone. "

At first the mother was stricken down by the fierce throes of jealousyand pain that rent her soul; but as time went on and she knew that shewas not supplanted, she grew quiescent. But she owned to herself thatshe never could have sent Ruth away if it had not been to separateher from her father as well. 

On every side his praises were sung in her ears. He was rising higherand higher in his profession, and one enormous fee in a contested willcase, had suddenly made him rich. Both were getting on toward middlelife, and he was slightly gray; but her brown hair lay in the same soft, glossy bands, and her pure white face was placid as of yore. 

Four years had passed, and Ruth's birthday was at hand. Her mind hadlong been made up; and now Christmas light and gladness reigned supreme. It was just at the close of the day when entering the fire-lit room uponthe arm of her tall, distinguished-looking father, she threw her armsabout her mother and whispered three words, --"For our sake!"

Then kneeling with courtly grace before her, he kissed the fair hand hehad won in his youth and in tones whose music had thrilled her girlishheart, he spoke:

"My beloved, will you not trust me again? See--our darling has saved usfor each other. "

And the last ray of the roseate sun lingered lovingly on the three asthe evening sank into blessed night. 

In a Pullman Car

A LOVE STORY

It was rather late when Hervey Leslie threw the remains of a cigar fromthe car window, and staggered through the jumping, jerking Pullman tohis berth. 

The curtains were all drawn, giving to the car a funereal aspect, andlights were turned down for the night. 

Jerk, jerk, jolt and jump went the train around the mountain curves, till the various hats and wraps suspended from the hooks seemed about totumble together. Suddenly something dropped through the curtains of theupper berth opposite and lodged there. Involuntarily extending his armto catch it if it fell, our young traveler's eyes were riveted upon anobject which he now felt inclined to catch, whether it fell or not. It was a small white shapely hand--a woman's hand; and the midnighttresspasser would have been less than human if he had not risen to abetter view. There it was, just peeping between the heavy curtains, white and blue-veined, with tapering fingers and shell-like nails. Howhe longed to touch it! How tempting the rounded curve of the small wrist. 

A prolonged lunge threw him violently forward, when grasping the rod tosave himself, his lips went plump against the coveted object. It wasonly momentary, but it thrilled him as with an electric shock. When herecovered his equilibrium the fair sleeper had withdrawn entirely out ofsight, and her involuntary assailant addressed himself to the duty ofdisrobing. Long he pondered upon the "touch of a vanished hand, " and atlast fell into uneasy dreams wherein the world had come to an end, andhe found himself at the gates of heaven, with five soft white fingersturning the key on the other side. 

"Last call for breakfast, " shouted the porter next morning, and theconfusion of voices mingled with the noisy folding of vacated berths. 

Parting his curtains, Hervey Leslie peered out, possibly to catch amorning view of the pretty hand. 

"By Jove! better still!" was his smothered comment, as he hastily turnedaway. 

What he had seen was the perfection of a French boot, buttoned high, andprotruding modestly below the curtains. Then a soft voice called--"Porter, I should like to get down. "

The steps were adjusted, and as she gently fluttered down, the listenerthought--

"What a shame I didn't have a chance to exchange berths with her! Tothink of her being perched up there!"

An hour later Leslie returned from his cigar to find the Pullman inorder, and the refreshed occupants enjoying the books and papersscattered about. It was not possible to mistake the owner of the handand foot, whom a glance revealed in her corner, looking quietly upon thehurrying villages and farms. A coquettish hat rested lightly upon afluffy mass of golden brown hair, a dainty tailored suit fitted closelythe rounded figure, and the face that looked out of the window was sweetand bright even in repose. The coveted hand, in spotless kid, shieldedthe earnest eyes from the glare of the morning sun, and all in all, thepicture was one to tempt any looker-on. 

Just as Hervey Leslie was puzzling his brain for a pretext, howeverflimsy, to introduce himself, a lady came from the dressing-room and satdown beside the beautiful unknown--a lady still young and handsome, andso closely resembling the girl as to leave no doubt that they weremother and daughter. 

"What has Charlie done with himself?" was the pleasant question, metwith a smile so bewitching that the watcher was hopelessly ensnared. 

"So, there's a party of them, " he mused. "And who the deuce is Charlie?"

But when that youth appeared he proved to be only a brother, and not avery big brother, at that. 

Settling himself back in a corner from whence he could use his eyes andears as he dared, young Leslie drew forth a letter which he perused withinterest; in fact, he already knew it by heart. It ran thus:

 "MY DEAR SON, "Congratulate me. The all-important day is fixed for the 24th inst. Come at once. Mrs. Dana is anxious to cultivate you, and my own impatience is an old story. 

 "Your affectionate father, "H. J. LESLIE. "

"Confound Mrs, Dana!" was the son's comment, for upon the subject of hisfather's second marriage he was distinctly undutiful. 

For a while he lost himself in pictures of the new home, and mentallyresolved to absent himself as much as possible. He knew how hisopposition was grieving his father, who thought him most unreasonable:but he persisted in refusing to see the lady until after the ceremony. 

Suddenly with a terrific lurch the train was derailed and plunged downan embankment, not steep but rocky. The heavy Pullman toppled over, thenplanted itself firmly in a bed of fresh earth, and was still. There werewild cries of fear and pain, a loud crashing of glass lamps, and somewrenching of seats. Leslie fell into a pile of great-coats, and flungout his right arm just as the two ladies were dashed against him, anda sudden sharp twinge made him oblivious of everything. 

When he recovered consciousness he found himself being pulled out ofhis corner, and realized by the agony of the motion, that somethingwas broken somewhere. With one mighty protest against such vigoroushandling, he relapsed into a dead faint. When he next opened his eyes hewas lying between cool sheets in a pleasant room, and bending over himwas the elder lady of the Pullman. The first bewildered look was rapidlymerged into a frown of pain, as a sense of discomfort made itself felt. 

"He is coming round, doctor;" said the lady. 

Then to him she said;--"you must be very quiet. Your shoulder has beenset. It is all right now. Heaven be praised that we did not kill you aswe fell!" she added aside, and her sweet motherly face showed thesympathy he was in need of. 

Then a voice at the door said timidly, yet eagerly, --"Mamma, come--Charlie wants you. "

The ladies vanished, leaving the doctor in charge. 

Hervey soon gathered that they were at a farm-house near Columbus, Ohio;that Charlie had a broken leg, that his mother and sister, along withthe others who had escaped injury, were stopping over to render serviceto the wounded. 

"Who are they?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of his pain. 

"I think the name is Raynor, " said the doctor; "Mrs. Raynor, MissEloise, and the youth, whose leg we set this morning. But say, youngman, where are your people? Don't you want some telegrams sent? You arenot likely to get away from here very soon. "

Young Leslie groaned as he gave his father's address at Cincinnati, thenexclamed;--"See here, doctor, can't you stop this confounded pain? Whatthe deuce is the matter, anyway? Do get me out of this. "

The doctor gave him a soothing potion and bade him be quiet. He promisedto send a nurse, then went to look after the more slightly injuredpatients. 

Three weeks later found Hervey Leslie in dressing-gown and slippers, setting beside Miss Eloise Raynor under a large shade tree, the younglady reading aloud from Tennyson's tender rhymes. At an open window infull view lay Charlie, still a prisoner, with his mother in closeattendance. 

Mr. Leslie had paid several visits, and assured his son that the onlyway in which he could repay him for postponing the wedding till heshould be well enough to witness it, was by becoming reconciled to hisnew mother. At which the son smiled, for something had of late come overthe spirit of his dream that predisposed him singularly in favor ofweddings. A sort of low fever hung about him, which made it prudentfor him to remain in the country; and he rather fixed the time of hisdeparture when Charlie's leg should justify the whole party's leaving. 

The young girl and her mother blamed themselves for his hurt and hadpaid him every kindly attention. He had gathered the story of the petteddaughter, and in his enfeebled state their acquaintance made rapidprogress. Even now it required no acute observer to surmise the ravagesof the little god. No one interfered, and for once the course of truelove seemed to glide smoothly on. 

He had confessed his aversion to to the prospective mother, andendeavored to elicit sympathy by picturing to young Eloise what it wouldbe to have another fill her dear father's place. At such times her facewas impenetrable, and he intuitively grew to avoid the topic. 

Ere Charlie was able to get about, young Leslie had fallen in love withthe whole family; and when he had sought and obtained the dimpled handhe had so coveted in the Pullman car, laughingly told the mother he wasnot so sure but that after all she was the one he loved best. A smilepassed over the regular features as she said meaningly:

"Only love me as a son, my boy, and I think we can be happy in eachother. But remember, a mother-in-law is a dangerous animal!"

Mr. Leslie was so happy in his son's good fortune, --for so he evidentlyconsidered it--that he declared there must be a double wedding. 

"You shall have your way, " he added, with some pique; "and not see Mrs. Dana till we meet at the church. Afterward, I'll risk the meeting!"

Some two months after the accident the programme was carried out. Butthe Raynors had remained at the farm-house till the appointed day, theyoung people growing all the while so distractingly fond of each other, that the really short time seemed to drag with leaden wings. 

Quietly one morning, in the presence of intimate friends, and quite inthe old-fashioned way, the two pairs of lovers walked up the churchaisle to the minister in waiting. The ladies wore rich traveling-suits, and carriages waited to convey the immediate members of the familyto the wedding breakfast. The younger bridegroom saw nothing but thesweet face at his side, though he started perceptibly when the servicerevealed that his father's bride and his own bore the same musical nameof Eloise. 

When the first carriage closed with a snap, there was a relaxing ofceremony, and an interchange of congratulations, earnest, thoughsomewhat amusing. For when Hervey raised his eyes to the despisedmother's face, he saw there the soft features of Mrs. Raynor, while hisfather smiled in contented expectancy. His own face was a study!

"Raynor?" he stammered. "Why I thought--I understood--"

"You said Raynor, " was the teasing reply; "we never did. "

"And whom have I married?" was his next question, with a grotesquegrimace at the demure young person beside him. 

"Eloise Dana, an' it please your lordship. Do you mean to get adivorce?"

"It's all right, my boy;" cheerily said his father, while all threeheartily enjoyed the denouement. "It was only a little harmless plot, you know, to bring you to your senses! Besides, you were in too delicatea state of health to bear the truth!" This with decided relish. 

"Bring me to my senses!" echoed the other. "You have about run me crazy!Here I've gone and married my wife's brother to his sister, and thefathers and mothers are all fathers-in-law and mothers-in-law. But, mydear mamma, " he added, with an 'Et-tu-Brute' look at the amused lady, "I did not think you would play me false!"

"The temptation was too great, " she confessed, "after I saw your name onthe tell-tale suit case; own the truth now, that as Mrs. Dana, you wouldnever have fallen in love with me!"

"Ah, well, " he gave in, "let's kiss and make friends. As for you, younglady, " he exclaimed with mock fierceness, "I shall exact the mostimplicit obedience. I must get even somehow. "

"No--no--I did not promise to obey--brides never do nowadays, " and thelittle gloved hand went up to his lips in protest. 

Catching it fast, he threatened to proclaim the first time her hand hadever touched his lips, all unconscious though she was, and amid blushesand happiness all around, they arrived at the house, where the wholestory had to be rehearsed to delighted friends, beginning with midnightvision in a Pullman car. 

In Old Kentucky

A PRIZE STORY

Everybody was at Crab Orchard springs, that favorite resort in theante-bellum days. What though the main rooms were cramped and stuffy, orthat the straggling cottages across the grassy lawn were mere shells. It was a place thoroughly rural, thoroughly enjoyable. Merely to ramblealong the winding saw-dust walks to the deep embowered springs, was asufficient augury of improved health. It was the one daily excitement tocrowd up to the long platform and see the stage come in, bringing highand low, the rich and moderate liver. The luggage was light, Saratogatrunks being unknown quantities, and no gowns were brought except thoseof the crushable kind that did duty at ten-pins, fishing, walking, dancing, and not least, driving, for the gravel turnpikes were fine. 

Across the wide street was Bachelors' Row, where were installed huntersand hounds from the Southland, rich cotton and sugar planters, sportingmen and their sable attendants. Here the candles burned all night, andthere were loud whispers of games in vogue not as innocent as thoselisted on the tempting advertising circulars of the Springs. This sunny, summer life was of the _dolce far niente_ sort, given up to idlepleasure, and quite out of the way of the tragic happenings of romance. Yet a mystery had managed to creep into this Arcadian realm, a thing notat first tangible, but getting to be an acknowledged first-class secretas the days went by. 

Egbert Mason had been nearer the carriage than the rest of the sunsetcrowd when the stage rolled up, followed by the close, luxurious-lookingvehicle so rarely seen in those parts. He declared he caught a glimpseof a being, exquisitely beautiful among the two or three closely wrappedand veiled women who descended from the carriage; and the young men wereon the _qui vive_ some hours later to see the new comers enter theball room. But they did not appear either that night, or any othernight. They kept their cottage rooms closely, sitting out only in therear, and were waited upon by the two black servants they had brought. Various were the conjectures about them, and vague stories soon tookshape. The hotel register told only their names: Mrs. Glencarron, Mrs. Hamilton and daughter, from Mississippi. The daughter was an invalid, and this was all that could be drawn from the faithful blacks. Thegirls pouted, and mamas looked unutterables when their curiosity foundno relief; while the men were wisely silent, though equally diligent infruitless investigation. 

It was past midnight, and the lights were out, when the ominous cry of"fire!" sounded through the grounds, striking terror to the visitorsthus suddenly startled from their sleep, and emptying the cottages oftheir half-clad occupants by one accord. A glance at the cracklingflames showed that Bachelors' Row was on fire and doomed. Men from thedistant village were soon on the spot with buckets, and amid frightenedcries, confused questions, and a general hurrying, scurrying of feet, afew had presence of mind to cover the main building with wet blankets, lest the trees now snapping and hissing might drop a blazing brand andthe whole place go down. 

After the first panic had subsided there was nothing to do but standand watch the graphic scene; and while thus engaged the attention ofsome was attracted by a face white and drawn as with pain among theby-standers. It was that of one of the mysterious ladies of the southerncottages. But even as they noted the faded beauty and aristocraticbearing of the stranger she was hurried away by another figure closelywrapped and hooded. Not before she had ejaculated: "Oh, what is it?Is she----?" and there the words were lost. 

It was somewhere near the early morning when Egbert Mason who had beenforemost in fighting the fire, was aroused by a voice just outside hiswindow, which was left open for the faint breeze of the summer night. 

"Come quick iz you kin, young marster, fur de lub o'heb'n. "

Between sleeping and waking the young man jumped up and peered out ofthe window. He could just discern the prim red and yellow turban of theblack keeper of the strange ladies. 

"Iz you a doctor, Marster? Dey says you iz. "

"Yes--a very young one--what is wanted?"

The negress spoke a few very hurried words in a lower tone. 

"All right. In one moment--stay--never mind--I have it--I'm coming. " Andcatching up something from the shelf of his closet the young doctor spedaway to the mysterious door of the southern guests. 

He was met on the threshold by an anxious, grief-stricken face, and thewords half sobbed out:

"Was there no one else? None older? You--why, you are a boy. "

"True, madam, but I am not without experience. I hope--I think, you maytrust me, unless----"

But she drew him hurriedly within the door, and on to an inner chamber, where lay his patient, so guarded that he never once saw her face. Before the earliest risers were called to the long breakfast hall thereechoed the cry of a little child in the southern cottages--a girl babythat opened its eyes first in an atmosphere of secrecy and mystery. 

 * * * * *

Sixteen years had gone by. It was the eighth of January, and the CapitolHotel at Frankfort was a blaze of military glory. It was the annualcommemorative ball, and Strauss' band was pouring forth inspiringstrains, as the dancers, in fancy costumes of every age and clime, flitted to and fro. The beauty, wealth and chivalry of Kentucky werethere. The stars and stripes were draped about the speaking portraitsof dead heroes, and munitions of war glittered on every side. 

Among those wearing the neat broadcloth evening dress of the plainAmerican citizen was Dr. Egbert Mason, the famous surgeon, now adistinguished looking man of thirty-five. It was rather late in theevening when he appeared, and he was soon captured by his friend, the Hon. Leslie Walcott, who bore the distinction of being the youngestmember of the House, and presented to Miss Eleanor Carleton, the mostpopular of all the belles and beauties on the floor. Her dress was anexquisite personation of the stars and stripes, from the crown of starson her golden brown hair, to the gaily ribboned white satin slipper. Herwhite muslin skirts showed the red stripes at intervals; a soft bluesarcanet sash across her breast was stamped with the outstretched wingsof the American eagle, and in every detail this unique costume wasalluring to a degree. 

Dr. Mason was more than impressed by her extreme youth, in its settingof precocious womanly grace and charm. She was so happy and bright, a_sans souci_ maiden whom he lost no time in winning to his owncolors, by the magic of a well-stored mind and an eloquent tongue. Asonsie, sweet-sixteen lassie, not yet out of school, but wonderfullydeveloped, like the southern girls of the period, whose parents werepossessed of ample means. He sounded her fresh, rich stores of mind andfound she had indeed been carefully taught, wisely trained. Not at oncedid he learn it all, but soon enough to resolve to win and wear thisjewel, if only Providence were kind. Providence? Ah, there swept acrosshis face the shade of one bitter memory--one foul wrong that haddarkened his earlier manhood. A woman's fatal wiles, a man's trustbetrayed. He forgot that she had vowed vengeance if it took a lifetime. He thrust it all aside, and turned to the purity and innocence of thisfair young womanhood, with the infinite longing of a starved nature. 

The evening of the ball did not close without another surprise forEgbert Mason. Eleanor Carleton was challenging him in a spiritedquotation contest when her mother approached leaning upon the arm of theGovernor of the State. She was a handsome, dark-eyed woman, young enoughto seem the elder sister of the lovely girl who called her mother. 

"Eleanor, my child, " she said, barely glancing at her daughter'scompanion. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Have you been in thedraughts of those halls? Supper is ready. "

"Oh, I've been in very good hands, " was the merry reply, as the girlintroduced Dr. Mason, and shook hands with the Governor, who was lookingdown at her with his kindliest smile. 

"Madam, " he said gallantly, "I must compliment you upon this exceedinglypretty and patriotic dress. I have been watching it from afar allevening. How could you conceive such a marked hit for the occasion. "

"I hope it in order for me to say she never fails, " proudly answeredSenator Carleton, an imposing looking man, who had come up in time tohear the last remark. "The march is playing for supper--"

"Oh, mother--what is it?" cried the girl, suddenly directing attentionto Mrs. Carleton's face, which was colorless, almost ghastly, while hereyes seemed gazing afar off into space. 

"Allow me, " said Dr. Mason, with concern, advancing quickly, and amidthe excited gathering of the little circle about him, he gently bore herto one of the large windows, as the Senator in visible alarm threw upthe sash. 

"To my room, " she murmured, as she revived a little, and thither theyconducted her as quietly as possible. 

At the door the startled young girl turned and impulsively clasping thedoctor's hand, exclaimed:

"Oh, Dr. Mason--what is the matter? I never saw my mother like this--isshe going to be ill?"

He tried to reassure her, though the touch of her soft, clinging fingersset his blood dancing like wild fire in his veins. 

That night old Ailsie knelt beside her mistress and soothed her with thecrooning tones of her childhood days. 

"Don't you fret, Missie; he doan know nuffin' 'bout it now. An' if hedo he ain' gwine ter tell nobody. "

That night, too, Egbert Mason, in dreams climbed a mountain height toreach an eagle's nest. As he grasped the last wavering support a figureglittering with stars dropped from the nest, suspended by a tatteredflag. Down, down it fell. Frantically he clutched at the frail colors. They lengthened more, and more, till the starry, shimmering form wasswaying above a yawning abyss. Could he save her? Her--his young lovewith the appealing eyes? With one mighty effort he nerved himself forthe desperate descent, when lo! from yon black depth appears thevindictive face of Isabella Drury. Older, careworn, faded--but stillIsabella, and wearing the head of a Medusa. 

 * * * * *

"You shall never marry that girl, Egbert Mason! I have sworn it! If youattempt it I will kill one or both of you!" and the face of the speakerwas like a mad woman. "Oh, I know all you would say, " she went on, striding about the rooms she had entered by strategy. "But she shall nothave you if I can not. Pshaw! What fools men are! Do you know who andwhat she is? Where is your boasted pride, that shrank from a thing likeme! Let me tell you, then, you scornful, high mightiness! Eleanor Carletonis----" and she hissed the hateful word in his ears. 

"Woman! You lie!" shouted Egbert Mason, stung to frenzy by her taunts, and sick unto death of her persecution. His was not a quiet nature, andshe had touched him in his sorest point. "You lie, and you know it! Outof my sight! Tell all you will. I, too, can threaten. Your vile secretis still safe with me, but I shall find means to be rid of you--Go!"

"Stop!" she commanded, coming nearer and dropping her voice to asibillant whisper. "Go back seventeen years to a summer night at CrabOrchard Springs! Aha! you start, I see you have not forgotten. Do yourecollect the part you played that night? _She is that child!_" andwith a malicious laugh she swiftly passed from the room. 

The man sat stunned where she had left him. Could it be true? And whatwas the mystery of that far-away night of his youth? The more hepondered the more complete grew the chain. Senator Carleton had marrieda Kentucky girl, it was true; but her youth had been passed on aMississippi plantation. He had years ago heard more or less idle gossipabout the hard, miserly nature of the old planter, Hamilton, and of hisbitter opposition to his daughter's match with penniless young Carleton. There had been an elopement, or something. It came back to him like somehideous nightmare. His pure, spotless darling--his promised wife! Couldthere be sin or shame enveloping such a being? He must know. He wrote toMrs. Carleton. In earnest words of manly truth and honor he besought herto explain to him the past. Eleanor was visiting a friend in a distantcity. No answer came. He went to the house and was denied admittance. Hefollowed Eleanor only to learn that she had been hastily summoned home. That was not the day of rapid transit. He returned at last to find aletter of farewell forever--his beloved had been spirited away to otherscenes. Then Egbert Mason left his native land, baffled, broken-hearted, and devoted the next three years to the study of special lines in hisprofession. 

 * * * * *

In a stately drawing room of an ideal Kentucky home are Eleanor Carletonand Egbert Mason, once more face to face. 

"Oh, my love, " he moaned, bending almost reverently before her, "what amistake, I knew it all when too late. The letters were all found whenthat unhappy woman was sent to the asylum. Did you think I could change?'Forget thee dear?'" he quoted unconsciously--he had said the lines sooften;

 "God knows I would not if I could: For sweeter far has been to me the pain Of love unsatisfied, than all the vain And ill spent years I lived before we met. "

Still she stood, gravely looking at him, her maturing beauty made thefairer by the sable gown she wore. 

"Forgive me, " then she spoke. "I thought you knew. I have been LeslieWalcott's wife these four months. "

As he sat beside his solitary hearth there was a fumbling outside thedoor. He opened to admit old Ailsie, now crippled with rheumatic pains. 

"I know'd dat was you. Marse Doctor, 'n I follered yer, I want to tellyer:--Mistress 'splained all 'bout dat 'fore she died. Dey wan't nothin'wrong. Her an' her ma was 'feared to let old Master know she hed run'way an' married Marse Henry. He said he wan't gwine ter will her narycent. So mistess and her sister, Miss Ellen, arter while, dey fotch herup to de springs. Den ole master he died sudden like, an' Marse Henry, he had done ben 'way off to New Auleens--never know'd dey had fooled oldMaster 'bout de chile an' all dat. Po' Mistress! she nebber could tellhim no better, and she was always skeerd-like arter she seed you agin. But she sot right down dat day and writ all about it to you an' I goesand gives de letter to dat purty white lady what was sich a good frien', and den she gimme yourn, ain----"

"Yes, yes, Auntie, I know--I have the letters here----at last, " he addedin low, husky tones. 

 * * * * *

The _Louisville Journal_ of the next New Year, under date ofJanuary 9, contained the following notice, with lengthy editorialcomment:

 "Died suddenly last night, of heart disease, at the close of the Military Ball, at the Capitol Hotel, Frankfort, the Hon. Leslie Walcott, age thirty-two years. "

Did hope stretch out an alluring hand to one lonely reader?

His Gratitude

VENGEANCE IS MINE

"But surely you do not realize, Robert Garrett, that when you foreclosethis mortgage you leave us virtually penniless;" and the large dark eyesof the suppliant were blinded by an agony of tears. 

"Really, madam, I regret to seem hard;" and the polished courtesy of thecold, harsh voice fell with heavy weight upon her strained senses. "Yourhusband has had more time now than any law allows, human or divine. "

"Oh, how gladly he would have paid the debt;" she moaned; "it was hiskindness and forbearance to others--kindness that seemed imperative. Hecould not take the law against his crippled brother, his mother's dyinglegacy to him. You know all this--you know, too, that if you will onlygrant a little longer respite he can settle the claim, or the greaterpart of it. How then can you be so cruel as to drive us out of doors!You who need nothing of this world's goods!"

The man of business stirred a little, crossed his well-clad legs instill greater comfort, and audibly repressed a yawn. Then as ifunwillingly forced to say something he did it as ungraciously aspossible. 

"Again I say I grieve to proceed to harsh measures, but"--then as shewas about to interpose he broke out irritably, "God bless my soul, Mrs. Blaine, how can you expect anything else! I am obliged to be accurate inmy matters, otherwise there would be no end to imposition from shiftlessmen who are always going to pay but----never do. "

"This, then, is your ultimatum, sir? You will turn me and my childrenout wanderers from the old home where I was born--where I had hoped todie? Can you do this? Even you, whom the world calls rich and prosperousand----charitable!" As she spoke she bent upon him in fine scorn herbrilliant eyes dark and piercing. 

"Painful things occur every day, my dear madam, in this transitorylife. And once in a while the tables turn. I think I remember a timewhen I pleaded with perhaps not so much eloquence, but quite as muchearnestness, for a boon at the hands of pretty Mildred Deering. I didn't get it, and I have survived, you see. We are apt to magnifyour misfortunes;" and a mocking smile told wherein lay the animus thatwas her undoing. 

Then she drew her graceful figure to its full height, and with thecontempt of an outraged wife and mother, her words came in tones ofconcentrated vehemence:

"So! Robert Garrett, this is your vaunted Christianity! You, theimmaculate pillar of the church--the friend of the outcast--the chiefamong philanthropists! Grant _your_ boon? Was there was ever amoment in her sheltered life when Mildred Deering would have consortedwith the hypocrite you are? Never! Better a thousand times poverty withnobility and truth in the man she loves. Better an age of privation withHerbert Blaine than a single instant in the presence of such as you. Doyour worst! And may God mete out to you and yours the mercy you haveshown us!"

Clasping the hand of her little girl who had clung to her mother'sskirts, gazing with wide-open, awestruck eyes at the great man, she wasgone in a moment. 

"Ah!" uttered Robert Garrett in a long-drawn-out syllable, reaching forthe evening paper. 

There had been another silent witness of this scene in the person ofa lad who stood within the door he had entered just as Mrs. Blaine hadappeared in the opposite way. He was a rather ill-favored schoolboy, but his thoughts as he came forward with the lanky awkwardness of youthand took a chair in chimney corner, were not of himself or his looks. 

"Father, " he said after some minutes had passed, the rattle of thenewspaper and the measured ticking of the clock being the onlydisturbing sounds, "Father, " he repeated, this time with a fallinginflection. 

Startled uncomfortably at the unexpected address the father peeredfrowningly at the boy with a gruff, "What!"

"Do you think it is just the fair and square thing to turn 'em out?"

"What do _you_ know about it, you young meddler. Keep quiet aboutwhat does not concern you. You have enough to eat and wear--attend toyour own business. "

There was no encouragement to go on, so young Robert sat and ponderedtill his father, chafing under the silent rebuke personified in everyline of the son's uncomely face, sent him to his room. 

In the other house there was little sleep; and for many succeeding daysthe devoted Blaines, with heavy hearts, put by their idols one by one, till at last the time-honored oaken doors closed upon them in relentlessbanishment. It mattered not that amid new scenes prosperity once moreopened her sheltering arms and kept the wolf from the door. The newowner of Deering Castle, as the villagers had admiringly christened thegrand old place, refused to sell it. Robert Garrett, with the littlenessborn of a mean, cramped nature, clung to this coveted possession as theone thing to be held, though all else were taken. He had money but knewnot how to enjoy it. His household, for the most part, reflected thecoarseness of his nature, and as time passed his retribution was metedout in rebellious sons and daughters, who wasted his substance anddragged down his name still further in the mire. 

Twenty years had gone by. Herbert Blaine and his bright-eyed wife sleptin the city of the dead. With their latest breath they had, one by one, adjured their beloved daughter, the only surviving child since the civilwar had laid low their three manly boys, to regain possession of the oldhomestead. Time, they assured her, would make all things even, and longbefore they laid down the burden of life, they had seen how the wife'scurse beat upon the head of the man who had so oppressed them. They hadlearned to feel pity for him whom they had once despised. Not so JessieBlaine. She was a woman now, and had been, for a few brief years, tilldeath robbed her, a happy wife. But never could she forget that dismaltwilight hour when her innocent eyes had photographed the hateful, sneering face of her mother's enemy; when her ears had phonographed hismocking words. The scene had haunted her waking and sleeping, for manydays; and still after all these years she could and did remember. 

She rejoiced when she heard that wild Ben Garrett had broken nearlyevery law of the decalogue, and was wrecking the peace of all who caredfor him. "They richly deserve it all;" she said, when some freshescapade or misdemeanor would come to light. He had squandered hisfather's thousands aimlessly, recklessly, and was fast bringing hiswhite hairs in sorrow to the grave. Jessie Forrester only smiled as sheread these items from the local press. Riches and honors were hers. There was nothing lacking but the dear old home of her people, and thiscould not be bought. She climbed to heights undreamed-of in her earlierdays, and became a shining light in the world of letters. Her books wereread in two continents. Statesmen and distinguished circles sought hertill her name became a power in the land. Her influence was widespread. In an eastern city she at last came to revel in her books andmanuscripts, or in her sweet, healthful, domestic loves, renouncing allthoughts of revenge, for the time being, and abandoning the hope ofrecovering the sacred pile where she first saw the light. 

One day there came a letter bearing the postmark of her native town. With difficulty deciphering the straggling, tremulous address, shebroke the seal and read as follows:--

 "Madam:

 "A heart-broken father appeals to you in his hour of extremity, to save his son from the gallows. My boy--my wayward, reckless boy, who was once as innocent and pure as yourself, has fallen into the hands of treacherous natives and half-breeds in Arkansas, and they accuse him of murdering a traveller for his money. He is guiltless of this crime--God knows he is; but the weight of evidence is fearful, and I am powerless to refute it. The proceedings have been hurried over and the verdict is against him. 

 "I am unable to go to him--I bring the case to you. Go, I beg of you, to Washington and plead with the congressman from this, your native district, and the Arkansas representative, who is your kinsman. Urge them to see the President and prevail upon him to sift the evidence. I realize most bitterly that I have no claim upon you, but oh, for God's sake, Madam, do what you can for a distracted father. Hanging! Oh, save him from that--and act quickly, for he has only five days to live. I am crazed with anxiety and sleeplessness. 

 "Your obedient servant, "Robert Garrett. "

Jessie Forrester's hour had come. The revenge so ardently longed-forsince the hour her mother had invoked the curse of heaven upon this man, was here. What though his boy did perish, by an ignominous death. A moreworthless cumberer of the earth did not exist. Ah! that cold, sneeringvoice on the winter's eve so long ago; her mother's tears! As he hadsown so should he reap, and her hands would help to gather in theharvest. Through him they had been exiled all these years from the homethat was their birthright. The husband of her early womanhood mighthave been spared if only they could have nursed him back to health underthe cool shade of those grand old trees instead of languishing in thehot city. Help this man? This incarnation of cruel selfishness? Notshe;--his boy should suffer the extreme penalty of the law. How could_she_ lift a voice to save him! "His boy?" Ah, through her tendermother's heart there darted a pain all unwonted. Her own noble, giftedboy--her all--what if untoward fate should have in store for him somedoom of shame--him, her idol and her pride. 

She sat buried in thought till suddenly starting up she consulteda time table, then rang hurriedly for her maid. She was ready in thirtyminutes, and summoning her young son, was soon enroute for the capital. Arriving at ten o'clock she called a carriage and sped away to newnorthwest quarter of the city. By midnight she had seen bothrepresentatives and thoroughly enlisted their services. She gave noreason for her intercession, nor was it necessary. It was enough thatshe deemed it a case for intervention. Next morning the two statesmenhad an interview with the President, and by the hardest, for the massof evidence against young Garrett was overwhelming, got a stay ofproceedings till the case could be further investigated. 

Well-nigh exhausted from the mental and bodily strain, Jessie arrivedat her home unfit for anything but rest. Then she answered her enemy'sletter. Did she reproach him with his life-long injustice? Did shedemand the old home in exchange for the service she had rendered? Orat least the privilege of buying it? She merely wrote;--

"I have been to Washington and secured a reprieve pending furthersifting of evidence. "

Ben Garrett was saved and the close view of the gallows sobered him atlast. He married the daughter of a Texas ranchman and Jessie heard ofhim no more. 

 * * * * *

Five years passed away when on a gloomy afternoon in the autumn, JessieForrester, now a woman of thirty, and wearing her years and honors well, was sitting at her desk in an elegant sanctum, absorbed in the fate oftwo lovers whose history she was creating. 

Her door opened and a grave, handsome man with a bearded face stoodbefore her. 

"Madam, " he said briefly "you once did my brother a great favor. I amhere to thank you for it. "

His brother? A favor? Ah, she had been doing favors for many in allthese years. She did not remember any particular one; it was an everyday matter. Every mail brought petitions and she never turned a deafear. The doing of favors brought its own reward. 

She looked steadily at the stranger, and he felt again in his inmostsoul the gaze of those large brown eyes seen once before dilated withchildish terror. 

"My name is Garrett, " he explained, as briefly as before. 

Garrett--that hated name. Involuntarily her eyes fell upon the workbefore her, while a warm flush mantled her cheeks. 

"May I sit down for five minutes?"

She again raised her eyes without speaking, and he seated himself, notlooking at but beyond her as if her steady gaze unmanned him. 

"Madam, my parents are dead. I have come to offer you Deering Castleat your own price. I should not presume to suggest it as a gift. It isyours if you wish it. I have heard so often, " and here his voice fellfor very shame, "that you wanted it. It was not then mine to disposeof; now there is no barrier; it is yours. I will send my attorney toyou. "

Rising he lingered a moment with a certain wistfulness suffusing hisfeatures, then made his way out ere Jessie could recover sufficientlyto bid him stay. 

Her faculties were in a tumult. Deering Castle hers--the estate of herfathers--the venerated old home hers at last. It almost took her breathaway. A Garrett was offering it. That name hated all her life. But didshe hate it now?

There was no more work that day for the author. Nor ever again did hergenius shine out in rapturing periods till she drew inspiration from thegrand environment of the old homestead. Here Robert Garrett is not anunwelcome guest. Young Herbert is in fact quite devoted to the grave, sedate man with the tender heart. Will his benign influence one daystill further cement the new friendship?

The Singer's Christmas

A HOLIDAY STORY

The air of the December day was soft and mild. All the world was in thestreets, glad of a respite from the late cold "snap, " which had broughtout furs and heavy wraps. 

Signora Cavada was taking her accustomed drive, chaperoned by acomfortable looking American woman; for this was an American city, andthe famous prima donna was winning nightly laurels at the LouisvilleOpera House. 

To-day, the carriage with its high-stepping bays sought a newneighborhood, that the great singer might not be bored with repeatedviews of the same places. As it bowled along an old man in tatteredgarments approached, hat in hand, and held it toward the open window foralms. The driver cracked his whip peremptorily above the straggling graylocks of the suppliant, and drove on toward the suburbs. 

"Who was that poor old man?" asked the singer in excellent English. 

"Oh, only a beggar; the streets are full of them just before Christmas, "replied her companion. 

"Is he very poor?" persisted the signora. "In my own country we havebeggars--they make a business of begging. But that was a grand face. I shall go back again to look for him; tell the driver. "

Accustomed to obey the caprices of her mistress, the duenna gave theorder and the carriage turned back. There stood the old man as before, but this time he did not approach the equipage. 

"Come here, " said the signora, holding out a neatly gloved hand. 

Fixing his faded eyes, now kindling with something like hope, upon herlovely face, he came nearer, and at her bidding told his story. It was acommon one: Ill-health, a vagabond son, his earnings all gone, no work, and finally beggary. 

"And have you no one to take care of you? Where do you live?"

"In that old shed, madam, " he answered, pointing to a tumbled down cabinonce used as a cobbler's shop. "And I have with me my little girl, mygrandchild. "

"A little girl in that place? Where is she? How do you keep her?"

"Ah, madam, she makes flowers--her mother taught her--and earns a fewpennies now and then. She sings, too, madam, " he added with pride. 

"Sings?" eagerly echoed the signora. "Fetch her here; I want to seeher. "

"She has gone away to the woods to gather evergreens. To-morrow isChristmas Day. "

"Yes, yes, I remember! And how do you celebrate the day?" added thelady. 

"In feasting and rejoicing, " said the duenna, before the old man couldanswer. 

"And the poor? I have read some very pretty stories about the poor inyour cities on Christmas Day. "

"Oh, the poor get along well enough, " she said, with an accent ofindifference or contempt. "They have more than they deserve. "

But the singer was again leaning toward the waiting figure outside, seeing which the old man said as if in apology:

"That is why I was asking for help, madam; people are generous atChristmas. But I have known better times; I do not like to beg. "

The prima donna was not rich. She supported her own old father andmother, and was educating her brother for a grand tenor. With one ofthose quick impulses born of heaven, she ordered the driver to descendfrom his box and throw open the carriage. When the roof parted and thesunshine came flooding down upon her, the singer faced the crowd thathad been steadily gathering for ten minutes, eager to see the SignoraCavada, whose voice was the most jealously guarded jewel of her store. For she had been recognized by a chance passer-by. 

Suddenly there stole on the air a divine strain that caused a hush asby magic to fall upon the restless groups. Louder, sweeter, stronger, more entrancing it rose, then sunk to the whispering cadence of a sigh. The old man's hands were crossed before him, and tears poured down hiswithered cheeks. Ere the charmed listeners realized that the voice hadceased, the singer gave the poor supplicant a coin, and waving himtoward the crowd, which was increasing every moment, said, --

"Tell them I will sing again. "

The old man went from one to another till the worn hat grew so heavythat he had to carry it in his arms. Money for his needs, money for hisdear little girl. Then the signora sang again; when about to depart shescribbled an address which she handed the bewildered man, and drove onto her hotel. 

What a Christmas was that! And what a feeling of happiness filled herheart! And the duenna said nothing. 

A day or two later the beggar and his grandchild appeared at the privateentrance of the hotel where the signora was sojourning. The paper hecarried in his hand was a passport, and he soon stood in her parlor. He was dressed in a neat new suit, and the child was as sweet as a wildrose. 

"Come and kiss me, little one, " said the beautiful lady. "I want to hearyou sing. "

Unappalled by the richness of the apartment, and conscious only thekindness shown her, the child, who was about twelve years old, sang oneof the popular street ballads of the day. 

"Santa Maria!" exclaimed the signora, who always ejaculated in her owntongue. "But you have a treasure here, my friend! The child is a wonder. This voice must be trained--we will see--we will see. "

Touching an electric bell, she summoned a messenger and hastily wrotea line which she gave him. During the boy's absence she questioned thestrange pair in whom she felt so absorbing an interest, and gatheredwhat there was to tell of their daily life. Their neighbors were kind, and the women exercised a sort of motherly care over the little girl;but the very best there was to know seemed bad enough, and the singershuddered as she imagined the dreariness of such poverty as their's. 

In answer to the call a young man stood before her. 

"Beppo, " she said, "your fortune is made; look at that old man. " Shespoke in Italian, and the face of the artist, for such he was, lit upwith enthusiasm, as he marked the striking head and face of the personindicated. "Your model for the Beggar of San Carlo, " continued the lady. 

Beppo Cellini, at the bidding of his countrywoman, at once made termswith the old man to sit to him for his great Academy picture. 

The little girl, whose voice now commands thousands of dollars on theoperatic stage, was placed under training at the joint expense of herbenefactress and two other artist friends. 

The old man, Signor Beppo's model, is at rest now, but he still livesin the "Beggar of San Carlo. " And the Signora Cavada, among all thegood deeds of her charitable career, has never known a truer thrillof happiness than she experienced on her American Christmas Day. 

Turning the Tables

A PRACTICAL STORY

There was great commotion in the kitchen of a large seaside hotel notmany miles from Long Branch. A commotion in fact, that struck dismay tothe heart of the proprietor, who, upon visiting the store-room near by, was caught and detained, an invisible listener to the uproar. 

"I 'clar ter gracious!" screamed the fat, colored cook, "I aint a-gwineter stan' it no longer! Po' white trash a-layin' up in bed all mornin, 'an' den it's eggs! Eggs biled, eggs scrabbled, an' homilies (omelettes)tell yer can't res' nohow! I'se mazin' tired of it all, I tell yer! I'segwine ter quit--I is!"

"You'se gwine ter quit--you is! I speck! I'm done heerd dat talk eberday dis month, " jeered cook number two. "Ef you quits you kin jest betyer bottom dollar I aint a-gwine to stay. Got more'n I kin do now--I is. "

"An' what yer reckon dis chile's goin' ter do den?" pertly chimed in themulatto kitchen maid. "I'm got all de runnin' roun' ter do, an' yer kinjist bet I don't have no easy time. Quit as quick as yer please--allof yer--I'll go 'long wid de crowd!" and with a toss of her woollybangs, she dumped a pan of potato peelings out at the door. 

"Dry up! dry up!" broke in the head waiter, appearing on the scene intrue autocrat fashion. He boasted of "right smart book learnin', " andwas a recognised power in the land. "You don't have no trouble at all towhat I do. It's run here, there and everywhere, all in a minute, with adozen blockheads to look after. And it's precious few tips I get here, I promise you! I never see as stingy a lot o' people in all my borndays. Say! you there, Jim! fetch that tray along! What are you gapin'at, nigger?"

"Don't you nigger me, you black dude!" retorted the darkey, and ashe spoke a smart chambermaid pranced along, flirting back at anotherwaiter, and ran plump against the boy, tray and all. Down went thedishes with a clatter which brought a bevy of waiters and maids on thescene, while the laundress rushed in, all dripping with soapsuds. Thisso irritated the head waiter that he seized a teacup and threw it atthe unlucky tray man. Then followed a fusillade of broken crockery andpromiscuous dodging of giggling maids and explosive men-servants. 

The fat cook interposed a threatening, hissing tea-kettle to stop thewar, and the perplexed housekeeper appeared among the belligerents asthe overwhelmed proprietor beat a hasty retreat. Stealing unperceivedalong the corridors, an idea struck him. This state of things was simplydreadful; something must be done. He quickly decided. He despatched hislittle son to the rooms and all about the premises to request the gueststo assemble to an affair of state in the imposing chamber known as themain parlor. His wife was an invalid, and the poor man was besidehimself in his perplexity. 

With wondering, smiling faces they came--a pleasing array of cityboarders--ease and comfort written upon every face. 

His audience assembled, the distressed gentleman proceeded to pour forthhis grievances. He asked what he should do in such a dilemma. His helphad been engaged from the swarms of colored persons who infest thestations and public resorts along the coast. They had given trouble eversince the hotel was opened. They complained and annoyed him first aboutone thing, then about another, till he was well on to the verge oflunacy. 

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, " he pathetically continued, "if I try tosoothe and satisfy, and raise wages and make promises, what guaranteehave I that the same thing will not occur to-morrow, and next day, andnext week? I engaged them fairly and squarely, and have held strictlyto my contract. They are so spoiled and unmanageable that there is nosatisfaction in their service. Even now, while I am talking they are nodoubt still in an uproar. Why, it is a wholesale mutiny. Something mustbe done at once. I have come to you for advice. If, as I say, they couldbe persuaded to remain, I cannot promise you any comfort. If I dischargethe whole crew, it will be a day, perhaps two days, before I can supplytheir places; for I shall have to go to New York for white help. Can yousolve the problem?"

For a moment there was silence. Then Miss May Delano, a handsome, wealthy city girl, said, with a challenging glance all around: "I'llwait upon the table for my part, if somebody will get me something toserve!"

This was received with an outburst, and instantly all was chatter andconfusion as they caught up the spirit of the thing. 

"I'll fill the orders as fast as you can take them, " boasted a Wall St. Exquisite, who would have unbent his dignity to any degree to please thebewitching heiress. 

"I'll help anywhere--wherever I'm needed, " exclaimed another city belle. 

"And I!" came in chorus. "We'll be chambermaids, " said a party who hadjust donned bathing suits of blue flannel. 

"All right! Get to work!" commanded the crowd. "You have on just thedress for the business. "

"Well, Mrs. Ingalls, " smilingly encouraged a plump matron, "I supposewe might do as good cooking here as we have done at home in times ofemergency. Shall we try?"

"I'm agreeable, " laughed the lady. "That is, if we can manage therange. "

"Oh, leave that to me, " said her husband. "I guess I've handled rangesbefore. " Which caused more merriment, since that gentleman's businesswas in the hardware line. 

Fresh came another bevy of rosy faces, whose owners declared that theyhad been to a cooking school and knew all about it. 

"Nothing like practical demonstration, " bantered the young men. 

"Hurrah!" cried one Hamilton, the pet of the house. "Give me the girlwho can don a white apron, roll up her sleeves, and plunge her prettyarms into the flour barrel! That's what I'm looking for!" and hecleverly balanced a chair on his chin, amid a clamor of repartee andgood-natured defiance. 

"Go in, the whole ship's crew!" fervently urged a family man. "It willbe the best fun of the season. "

"All right!" promptly agreed the ladies. "We are ready. Now, hurry upand get on your porter's apron in time for the next wagon of trunks. Pray, call us when you are about to shoulder one!" which turned thelaugh on the muscular member of the group. 

"I think I'd rather be parlor maid, " sweetly chimed in a little blondebeauty, with fluffy bangs. 

"Suits you to a T, " was the gallant response from the younger men. 

"And I'll have to stand guard to keep you from flirting, " put in anadorer. 

"Pot calling the kettle black!" was the saucy fling from a chorus ofschool-girls who were enjoying their first seaside vacation. 

"Now, grandma, " exclaimed the parlor maid to a beautiful old lady withsilver hair, "you shall have a big chair right in the middle of thedining hall, and be manager-in-chief. "

Meanwhile the landlord had been overcome. 

"Ladies, " he now managed to articulate, and certainly he meant it, "Idon't know what to say; I don't know how to thank you. But I know whatI'll do; I'll turn away the last one of those quarrelsome blacks; rootand branch they shall go. I'm tired of living in bedlam. I shall go downat once and start them; then I'll telegraph to New York and take thefirst train out. Rest assured I shall be back to your relief as soon aspossible. "

The proprietor had made himself heard in the confusion, and as he leftthe parlor hearty cheers followed him, when immediately the groups oftalkers broke out again into plans and promises. 

"Organize! Organize!" thundered a big man who had been jostled from hismorning paper. "There can be no success without system. "

"Hear! Hear!" roared the fun-loving fellows. "Down with the crowd to thelower regions! Come on with your constitution and by-laws! Hold fast tolaw and order! Give us liberty, or death--pumpkin pies and lily-whitehands! Hurrah! On to the kitchen!"

With mock circumspection they were forcing couples to pair off; butthe level-headed matrons soon arranged matters more to the purpose. The various branches of work were assigned to willing hands that onlyawaited the signal for action. 

Great was the consternation of the mutineers when the "boss" appearedin the dismantled kitchen and ordered them all off the premises. In vainthey protested, laying the blame on first one and then another. Theirday of grace was ended and no quarter shown. Wilfully and from sheerlove of bickering, they had offended all sense of justice and propriety, and in unbroken ranks they must go. 

When the fiat had irretrievably gone forth, they showed again the clawsand the cloven foot. The "cook-lady" said she "didn't hafter worknohow;" she reckoned she could "git along. " The maids and the waiterstook the cue and were equally independent. But though paid their wagesin full, they were discharged without "a recommend"; and this, in theheight of the season, was no small privation. 

"Teach them a lesson!" muttered the proprietor with satisfaction. "Serves them right! I'm rather glad of the row. "

Cheerily the guests fell to work in their several departments, and ifmore than one match for life was not made among the young people, itwas from no lack of genuine admiration in their new roles. The ladsand lassies were happy and rosy and busy at their self-appointed tasks. The white-coated waiters were dubbed "No. 47, " "No. 50, " and so on, andright nobly they served the well-spread tables, which lacked nothing, not even the boon of contentment, which so helps digestion. 

The flushed matrons behind big kitchen aprons, with diamonds locked awayin the hotel safe, took turns to perfection. Many guests took theirease, and were mere lookers-on at the frolic; but a right goodly companyput their shoulders to the wheel. 

When the new corps of "help" were installed, they found the hotel cleanand tidy from attic to cellar, and everything in its proper place. 

The episode was one to be remembered by the malcontents, who had had asevere lesson; by the host, who had seen a genuinely good side of humannature; and the ladies who had so nobly stepped into the breach, learnedduring their brief period of servitude to be more patient andconsiderate to those who serve. 

How She Helped Him

STORY OF A WIFE

"Well, tell me about Henry Woodruff. How did that match turn out?"

"Bad enough thus far. He is the same delightful, good-hearted fellow asof old; always ready to do a kind, or courteous act. But this woman willbe the ruin of him. "

"How? What is the trouble?"

"The trouble is she is spoiled to death! She fancies herself an invalid, lies around, does nothing but read Charlotte Braeme and Bertha M. Clay--has every foolish whim gratified, and, in fact, I don't see how hestands it. "

"Did she have any property?"

"Not a cent. It was an out-and-out love match. She has expensive tastes;she is indolent and extravagant. Why, his carriage hire is a big item ofitself. She couldn't walk a block, you know. "

"Perhaps she really is a sufferer. "

"Nonsense; nobody believes it. She had that fall, you recollect at theskating rink. At first her spine was thought to be seriously injured. Woodruff paid out several hundred dollars to have her cured, and thedoctors discharged her, well, they said. But it has pleased her to dragaround, a load on his hands, ever since. It is thought that he is muchcrippled financially. I know positively that he has lately mortgaged hisinterest in the firm. If he can't manage to make, or save five thousanddollars by the end of this year, it is all up with him. And he willnever do it at his present rate of living, "

"Why doesn't he tell her? Has she no sense, or feeling at all?"

"None, except for herself; and he is so fond of her that he will indulgeher to his very last cent. "

"I thought he looked a little down as he passed us this morning. "

"Yes, he is beginning to realize that he has gone too far, and, poorfellow, it is tugging at him hard. "

Did she hear aright? Was it of her, Eleanor Woodruff, that they weretalking? Swiftly she sped out of the dark, heavily-curtained back parlorof the stylish boarding-house, and into her room, a gorgeous alcoveapartment on the first floor. She could not mount the stairs on accountof her weak spine. Weak spine? She forgot all about it as she paced thefloor, angry tears gushing from her large brown eyes. It was shameful--itwas wicked--to be so abused. She had never in her whole petted life beenfound fault with. As to money, what did she know about it? Her father, before his failure and death, had always gratified her. Her husband hadnever made any difference. These men were friends of his. 

Her bitter sobs ceased, and her wounded vanity gradually lost itselfin better thoughts. Did all her world think of her like the scathingcriticisms of those two chance callers, who thus killed the time ofwaiting for someone to come down to them? She began to feel glad thatshe had overheard it. The merest accident had sent her into the backparlor. Was it true? What ought she to do? What could she do? Her dear, kind husband in trouble, and she the cause. Long she sat buried inthought, and when the well-known step sounded at the door her face wasradiant with a new resolve. 

He came to her large easy-chair with a step somewhat weary, but his kisswas as usual. 

"All right, Nellie? Had a good day? Why, you look--let me see--how doyou look?" he satd, his kind eyes noting the brightness that shone inhers. 

"I look as if I love my big boy very much, don't I?" she respondedmerrily. 

His answer was another kiss, and as he turned toward his dressingcloset, her heart ached with unspoken tenderness. Her dinner was broughtin. She was not considered strong enough to sit at table. For thisservice an extra charge was made. 

Later, when he opened the evening paper, she sat and watched him. Surelythose lines of care were new, now that he was not smiling fondly uponher. Oh, foolish, selfish wife! Rising gently, her long silken tea-gowntrailing behind her, she stood beside him, one slender white hand uponhis shoulder. 

"Well, dear, what now? Another new gown?" he asked, with his old, sweetsmile. 

She pressed her lips in a slow, reverential fashion, upon the broadwhite brow, another pang at her heart. Then she spoke:

"Not this time. Harry, dear, let's go to Mrs. Wickham's to board. "

"Mrs. Wickham's!" he echoed. "Why, you wouldn't stay in her dull littleplace a week. "

But even as he spoke there flashed through his mind in rapidcalculation, "Twenty dollars a week there, forty here; eighty dollarsa month saved; nearly a thousand dollars a year. "

"Don't you like it here?" were his next words, as he glanced around theluxurious suite. 

"Yes, " she said, "except there are too many people. It is so noisy. "

"Very well, then, we will try it; anything to please my darling, " and hedrew her close, wrapped in his arms as one might lull a restless child. 

The move was made, and Eleanor found that she was not as much fatiguedas she had often felt after a day's lounging with a novel. Her husbandthought it only a new whim; but as it was not expensive one, he couldnot remonstrate. When he wanted to take her driving, she playfully toldhim she was learning to walk--horses made her nervous. 

The first step, she thought; now for the next. It came to her almost bymagic. In a little rear hall-room sat Margaret Dewees, clicking away ather typewriter. A strong, clear-headed girl who had maintained herselfthese ten years, and had put by her savings. She was soon to be marriedto a stalwart young farmer, the lover of her early youth. They had beenworking and waiting. From the first she took an interest in the youngwife, and it was given to her energy and common sense to help asuffering sister. Together they plotted and planned. Eleanor's lassitudegradually passed away under vigorous rubbing and brisk walks. 

Margaret's trousseau was a thing to be considered. From Mrs. Woodruff'ssurplus stock of stylish gowns and garments the country girl's outfitwas deftly concocted. The young wife could sew neatly and rapidly. Whenall was ready the sum of two hundred dollars lay in her writing desk. Her grand piano, too large for the new quarters, was removed fromstorage to a dealer's, and was sold for three hundred more. She wrote atonce to an uncle in a Western city; told him of her little efforts, andasked what she might do with her mite. He was a real estate man andpromptly invested it in a lot in the rising town of Duluth. 

In exchange for her services as seamstress, Margaret taught Eleanor theuse of the typewriter. When she was married she left the instrument, forthe summer months, in Eleanor's care. A nominal rent was agreed upon, and this was easy to pay, as Margaret's engagements were transferred tothe new operator, while she, herself, attended to chickens and cows, andher six feet of husband. 

Eleanor's spirit of enterprise did not stop here. She obtained pupils onthe type-writer machine at five dollars each. She shipped a lot of oldparty dresses, crushed and out of style, to the costumer's on B----street, and saved the proceeds. Every time her husband handed over herallowance of pin money, she put at least half of it in her "strong box. "

It was hard to hide all this activity and cheerfulness from him, butshe did. With her woman's enjoyment of a little mystery, and her highresolve to show herself worthy of him, she kept in the old rut as nearlyas possible when he was at home. He saw only that she was stronger, andit lightened his labors. 

"My little woman does not ride, or read, any more, " he said one evening, in the indulgent tone he used towards her. 

"Why, yes, I do read. Don't you see my little library there?"

"Yes, but it seems to me I miss something. "

He missed the litter of trashy novels he had been wont to see. 

"I told you I was learning to walk;" she added, with a smile, "I reallydo walk somewhere every day. "

"That pleases me most of all, " he said in his cheery way, "but what willDr. Bull think. You know he prescribes rest and quiet. "

"I don't care one bit; I have long since cut his acquaintance. "

 * * * * *

The end of the year rolled round. Eleanor watched her husband's facewith ever increasing anxiety. One evening he sat buried in thought fromwhich all her endeavors could not rouse him. He did not feel well, hesaid. All night he tossed and muttered. Calculations and figures wereuppermost. 

He was up early, as usual, and away. Eleanor hastened her preparations, and carefully counted her little hoard--the earnings of months. Earlyin the afternoon she came home with the proceeds of her last batch oftype-writing, glowing with exercise, and the happiness of contributingat least some hundreds to meet her husband's creditors. He was there, lying on the sofa, pale and hopeless. Forgetting all else, she flungherself beside him with a sob. 

"Oh! Harry, my dearest! Tell me what it is that is killing you--I have aright to know. "

"It is ruin, Eleanor. I have brought you to poverty--you whom I wouldhave given my very life to make happy. "

"You are talking in riddles, Harry, " she exclaimed, rallying from heralarm. "Am I not the happiest woman in the world? And don't you see howwell and strong I am?"

She coaxed the whole story from his lips. Then with affected lightness, she said: "Is that all? Why, you frightened me terribly; I thought youwere ill--had caught some horrible disease or other. See here!"

As she spoke she ran to her desk, took out her treasure, and poured itinto his hands in her impulsive fashion. 

"Eleanor! What is this?" staring like one dazed, from her radiant faceto the notes in his hands. 

"This? Why, this is only your silly wife's laziness and selfishness inanother form. "

Then her story had to be told. Their combined efforts still fell shortof the required sum, but she triumphantly produced the deed to theWestern land. For a season there were caresses and even tears, of mutuallove and thankfulness. 

"My precious wife!" he exclaimed, as he clasped her close. "What atreasure in you, if all the money in the world should fail!"

"But your piano!" he said, with regret overreaching his appreciation ofher sacrifice. 

"Let it go, " she merrily replied. "I could not play worth listeningto--this you must admit. It was just an expensive, cumbersometoy--that's all. "

Next day the balance of the debt was borrowed upon the security of thewestern deed, and Henry Woodruff was a free man once more. When the fivehundred dollars jumped to thousands in a sudden boom, he bought a neathome. Here, Margaret, the valued friend, supplied produce from her farm. 

Eleanor was never quite content till Harry had looked up her twomaligners, and brought them to the pleasant domain where she presided, and which her painfully awakened energy had helped to buy. In time shetold her secret, and thanked them for that ten minutes' gossip. In time, too, sons and daughters came and found a mother prepared by self-denialfor the exigencies of life. 

The Iron Box

A MYSTERY

Twilight dropped its soft, somber curtain upon a handsome southernhome. Sadly out of keeping with the peaceful landscape and cheerfulhearthstone, were the feelings of a man who crept close to the windowshutter, and peered cautiously within the cosy apartment. And brightergrew the twinkle in his rapacious eyes as the brilliant objects uponwhich he glared shone in the lamplight. 

Upon a table in the center of the room was a mosaic casket, the raisedlid disclosing a collection of jewels rarely to be found in thepossession of a single individual. 

With glowing cheeks and radiant eyes Netta Lee surveyed her treasures;but the glow and sparkle were for the tall figure beside her, howeverher feminine pride might be gratified at this splendid array. So long asRichard Temple honored her among women with his heart's devotion, thereneeded not the glitter of gems to complete her happiness. 

"Our friends are most kind with their wedding gifts, " said theprospective bridegroom, "these are royal!--"

"Yes, and oh, Richard! just see these pearls. Exquisite, aren't they!One hundred years old, and a present from my grandmother. "

"What a queer, old-fashioned case, " said Mary, a younger sister takingup the flat, square box of red morocco, where nestled in its white satinlining lay the milky brooch and ear-rings. 

"So much the more valuable; in this love-of-the-antique age, " remarkedBertha Lee. "Netta, who sent these gorgeous corals?"

"Aunt Winifred;--wasn't it good of her?"

"Pooh! No more than she might do for each of us, " replied the saucygirl. "Heigho! I wish my fate, if I have one, might appear. Couldn'tyou innocently suggest to the old lady that I have no jewels for theall-important occasion--a bridesmaid, too?"

"Why not select from these?" said Richard. "There is enough here, and tospare, for all. Let's see--pearl, diamond, amethyst, coral, emerald, turquoise, filagree--I declare it is a veritable jeweler's display. "

"You must recollect, though, Richard, I had some of these before. "

"Her friends seem to have discovered her weakness, " observed Mrs. Lee, entering the room. 

"Now, mother, you shall not say that. You forget the carloads of thingsthat have come--nice, useful, domestic articles----"

"Richard, what is it? What is the matter?" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Lee, looking at him. 

In alarm Netta glanced at his face, which she saw was clouded fromanxiety, or pain. At once she closed the casket and went to his side ingreat concern. 

"What is it, dear? Are you ill?"

"Not ill in body, my love; hardly comfortable in mind, " was his reply, as he sat down upon the davenport close by. "Sit here beside me, andI will tell you what is troubling me. No, don't go, " he added, as theothers started to leave the room, "it concerns us all. "

"Don't look so alarmed, " he said, reassuringly, to his betrothed. "Itis only this. News reached Columbus to-day that Baywater's gang is nearVillula, and as usual their progress is marked by bloodshed and outrage. The feature that concerns me most is that if I am detailed for duty, itwill of necessity postpone our marriage. "

Various expressions broke from the ladies, and Netta exclaimed interror:

"But you will be in danger, Richard. Can no one else go?" and she clungto him as though her frail clasp could keep him in safety at her side. 

"I fear not. The state militia must do its duty. You would not haveme skulk in the hour of danger. But there really is no danger for me, Netta. The sole trouble is in the change of our plans. "

But they remembered too distinctly Baywater's last visit to derive thecomfort conveyed in his words. 

"And where must you go? What must you do?" tearfully asked Netta. 

"I can scarcely tell. We shall be required to watch the premises of thecitizens, and to convey all valuables to places of safety. The policy isnot to provoke a battle, but to entrap them nearer and nearer the cityby holding out baits till they can be apprehended in a body. To do this, we shall be divided into small squads, perhaps only two persons allottedto a station. "

It was apparent to the elder lady that the plans had already beenarranged, and Temple's duties mapped out. 

The man at the window strained his ears to catch the topic whichevidently excited profound interest. A word or two reached him, and hesaw Temple point to the box of jewels. Then, as the door opened, heheard him say:

"Remember--the first thing to-morrow--Dry Thicket. "

Ere the departing visitor could come upon him, the straggler boundedover the fence and hurried away. But he had learned enough. 

A sound, real or fancied, caused Richard Temple to glance down thestarlit highway, in time to see the fleeing human figure. In newbornapprehension he returned to the parlor door, and was admitted in somewonder by the ladies, who were still discussing the situation. 

"Is Lawrence at home?" he asked. 

"Yes--why?"

"I think I'll turn in with him to-night, if he will give me half a bed. I fear you are not safe with those jewels in the house. "

"Certainly, " responded Mrs. Lee with ready hospitality. "You may have awhole bed and room, too, if you like. "

"Thanks, madam, I prefer to concentrate forces. Give me the box, and youladies go to rest. We'll protect you;" he valiantly added, as the youngson of the house now appeared. 

Richard Temple was not mistaken. A little after midnight the watchersheard a noise as of sawing, or filing. Peering from an upper window theylocated the sound at the parlor shutter, and soon discerned the figureof a man in a crouching attitude. Swiftly and noiselessly the young menstole down and out by a back door, and were creeping upon the burglar tocapture him, when a short, quick bark from the house dog startled theman, who fled precipitately. The pursuers fired, but it was too dark tosee beyond a few yards. 

The ladies, aroused and alarmed, were soon reassured, but persisted insharing the remainder of the vigil. 

Early next morning, leaving the servants to infer that they were boundupon a berry excursion, the little party set out, Richard bearing themosaic box, the girls carrying other valuables, and Lawrence armed witha larger wooden box and a pick. Their destination was Dry Thicket, so called from the exceeding dryness of the earth beneath the almostimpenetrable trees of native growth. These trees were so closelyinterlaced by a tough vine peculiar to the soil, that it was necessaryto cut one's way, or force it by dint of strength. 

In order to accomplish this feat the ladies had donned homespun dresseskept for such excursions, and the gentlemen were suitably provided. Winding through an arable field they descended the narrow path that ledinto the thicket, and were soon pushing and cutting their way againstthe stout lattice of vines. When far into the interior they foundthemselves in a natural arbor free from undergrowth and utterlysecluded. A fallen log afforded a seat for the ladies, and thecustodians of the box at once proceeded to bury their treasures of goldand plate, silver and jewels. An hour sufficed for the task. Whenscattering, dry leaves over the fresh earth the party returned to LeeVilla somewhat the worse for wear. 

"Until these dangerous invaders shall have left the community, or arearrested, I think we should arm the negro men on the plantation and beprepared for possible surprises, " were Richard Temple's parting words, as he took leave for Columbus, twenty miles distant. 

Villula was altogether inland, and hence an easy prey to outlaws. Thenearest railway station was at Silver Run, two miles away. The firstdown train brought a hasty letter from Temple, stating that he andLawrence Lee were detailed to convey four fine horses belonging to MajorLester, to a place of safety, and that the threatened section had beenwell picketed. 

There was at once a general hiding out of valuables, live stock andprovisions, the numerous swamps and thickets affording secure harborsall over the section. A reign of terror existed during the next twoweeks. The dreaded marauders were at work, and stories were rife ofinsult to women, and outrages upon men whom they hung by the neck tillalmost dead unless they revealed the whereabouts of their treasures. Thus far they had baffled the vigilance of the authorities. The countrywas thinly settled, and the peculiar features of the landscape affordedfacilities both for concealment and escape. 

One evening the ladies of Lee Villa sat watching the resplendent sunsetfrom the front piazza, when a ragged, barefoot urchin came up the roadturning somersaults with surprising agility. He righted himself up atthe gate, then entered and sidled rather doubtfully toward the group. 

"Here's somethin' fur Miss Lee. Be you her?"

"Yes, " said Netta, receiving a dirty note from the boy's dusty fingers. "Where did you get this?"

"He gave it to me--he did, " nodding his head down the road, "an' hegimme this, too!" he added triumphantly, holding up a shining coin, as he darted away again at his evolutions. 

Netta deciphered the following lines from Richard:

 "We are encamped in Dry Thicket with the horses, all safe thus far. Do not attempt to come; you could not find us. Keep a brave heart. We will soon entrap the rascals. (Messenger best I can find). 

 "Faithfully, "R. T. "

About nine o'clock one morning a party of ten men, headed by thenotorious Baywater, rode up the single street of Villula, sending terrorto the hearts of unprotected women. Not apprehending an attack indaytime, the two young men were on duty elsewhere, and the negroes werein the cotton fields. 

Passing through the town amid a great dust and clatter, they drew reinat the villa. The ladies came to the door in response to the captain'simperious halloo. 

"We've come to find out where the Lester horses are, madam--and what'smore, " he added with a brutal oath, "we intend to know!"

"I have no information to give you, " calmly returned Mrs. Lee. 

"Perhaps you won't tell us where that box of diamonds is, either, "he sneered. 

To this there was no reply. The three girls were pallid fromapprehension of the next move. Apparently a proposition was made. Theleader shook his head. After a brief parley he dismounted, and with fiveof his men, strode across the lawn to the negro quarters. An old negresssat at the door, smoking her pipe, and knitting a coarse yarn sock. A bright mulatto boy was crossing the back yard with a water bucket. 

In vain the outlaws sought to extract from the old woman the whereaboutsof her master with the horses and jewels. She was in reality as ignorantas they. 

"Come now, Auntie, " said the captain in wheedling tones, "tell us and wewill make you free. You won't have to work any more. "

"Oh, go 'long!" was her contemptuous rejoinder, "I'se free as I wantto be. "

"Why, you old fool!" he roughly retorted, "you don't know what freedommeans. You shall wear a silk dress and ride in a carriage and have agold chain. "

"I speaks gold chain!" echoed the woman tossing her grey head, "you po'white trash can't come it ober dis chile wid yer crick-cracks. Jes yougo 'long. I'se got my bacon and greens, an' a good cotton coat. Yercan't fool dis chile wid yer fine talk!"

"Curse the old hag! Let's try the boy. You! Sirrah! Come here. "

With ashen cheeks the boy followed them into an outhouse, while theCaptain flourished a stout whip. 

"Oh! mother, " cried Netta, "don't let them whip him! He never waswhipped in his life!"

Mrs. Lee advanced a few paces from the back gallery whence they had beenwatching the proceedings and called, "Charlie!"

The boy sprang towards his mistress, his captors not venturing to be toorash at the outset. 

"I want this boy for a moment, " explained the lady. In sullen silencethey waited. 

"Going to buy him up to secrecy, " derided the Captain, "but I guesswe'll work it out of him when he comes back. We've got him, sure, andcan afford to wait. "

But Charlie did not come back. Thrusting a bill into his hand hismistress said: "Fly for your life, to Columbus and tell Col. Scale thatwe must have protection. There is no train. Take the old country roadand lose no time!"

Nor did the terrified boy let the grass grow under his steps. Ere thenext sun rose he was in Columbus, footsore, but safe. 

Again baffled, the desperadoes took horse, and held a consultation. 

"If I thought they knew, " muttered the Captain, "by ---- they would bemade to tell. There's no other way--we must search that d---- thicket. You know what Jem heard at the window the other night. "

With this they galloped down the road, taking a more circuitous route toDry Thicket than the little path hidden from view behind Lee Villa. Inan agony of foreboding Netta exclaimed: "Oh, mother, we must save them. Let's get ready and go at once. I know every part of Dry Thicket!"

Hurriedly donning the homespun dresses, the mother and daughtersset out, leaving a maid in the house, and the old cabin "Granny"still smoking serenely over her knitting. They were soon on the spotwhere the jewels had been buried. The shock of the moment may bebetter conceived than described, when they saw an open pit, a pileof freshly-turned earth, and no trace of their carefully-concealedtreasures! The blood receded from every face. Gone--all gone! Theexquisite bridal presents--the diamonds from her betrothed, the ancientpearls, Aunt Winifred's family jewels, the heirlooms of plate--allvanished as utterly as if they had never been. 

In sheer feebleness the stunned party sank down upon the prostrate log. They now observed the charred remains of a camp fire, and shreds of greyblanket adhering to the tenacious Tie-Vine. 

"What _shall_ we do?" broke from Netta in despair. The loss of hersuperb ornaments for the time took the place of every other sentiment. Even the safety of her loved ones was forgotten. 

"Well, " said Mary, recovering herself, "it is no use grieving. We hadbetter be looking for Lawrence and Richard. You know those villainshung Colonel Harris by the neck till he was nearly dead, because hewould not tell where his money was. "

"Hush, Mary, " said her mother, "don't suggest such horrible things. "

But their search was unavailing. That night was one of agonizingsuspense. Next day the noon train brought Charlie with a note fromColonel Scale, saying that Lawrence would return home as soon as orderscould reach him. 

The story of the missing jewels was freely discussed, and friends camein numbers to condole with the bride-elect, and rehearse similardepredations that had come to their ears. 

At last flashed the news that the State Militia had surrounded thedaring invaders, by a well-executed maneuver, and had disarmed them. Theleader fought desperately and was mortally wounded. The prisoners wereforced to reveal the place where their ill-gotten gains were stored, andthe owners were publicly summoned to identify their property. But theLee jewels were not found, and the gang obstinately disclaimed allknowledge of them. 

Suspense in regard to them was, however, soon to be relieved. Two moredays of waiting, and the close of a lovely afternoon was made memorableby the return of the wanderers to Lee Villa. A torrent of questions andincidents so assailed them that they could not intelligibly answer theone, or comment on the other. 

"And, oh! Richard, " faltered Netta, "they have stolen our box--all mybeautiful presents!"

"And the spoons, " chimed in Mary, loyal to the family heirlooms. 

"You'd better say the money, " said Bertha with conviction. "I wouldrather have lost anything else than all that gold and silver. "

"Only give us a chance, " said her brother appealingly, "and we willrelieve your anxiety on this point. "

"You have it! You have it!" cried the girls excitedly crowding upon him. 

"No, " said Richard laughing heartily, while the brother endeavored toextricate himself. "He hasn't it but if I can have a hearing I will tellyou of its fate. We hoped you would not miss it. Nor would you, " headded, looking archly at Netta, "if you had obeyed my injunction not totry to find us. "

All anxiety, his auditors were profoundly attentive while Richardnarrated the adventures that had befallen them in the thicket. They werehotly pursued and closely surrounded several times, so determined werethe raiders upon capturing the horses, but friendly arbors screened themfrom view, and the sagacious animals were as quiet as their preservers. On the night of their arrival at the thicket with the horses, Richardsuggested that it might be wise to remove the box, since in case theladies were surprised they might be forced to disclose the secret. Accordingly he and his companion dismounted, secured the horses, andpenetrated on foot to the place. What was their amazement to see thesmouldering light of a fire and a man stretched upon the ground in adeep sleep. A grey blanket served him for a pillow. Ere they could reachhim he stirred uneasily, started up, seized his blanket, and sprang awayamong the trees. But they were too quick for him, especially as theclinging vine impeded his progress. They captured him, and he confessedthat he was one of Baywater's scouts, and that he had spent two daysin the thicket searching for the box of jewels he had seen through thewindow of the villa. 

The young men secured their prisoner, whom one guarded at the pistol'spoint, while the other pushed on, buried the box in another place, andthen they conveyed the ruffian to Columbus. 

"Three nights ago, " concluded Richard, "we were so closely cornered thatthere was no help but in flight. We rode continuously till our horseswere safe on the Lester plantation, but my Bonnie Bess is done for, Ifear, " and he glanced compassionately at the reeking animal, his ownespecial property. 

Poor Bess! Ere another twenty-four hours had gone by, her sorrowfulmaster was called away from the villa to see her die of lockjaw. He hadridden her to her death in the performance of his duty. 

After his interesting recital the ladies refused to wait till morningto regain the buried treasures. They would go at once, and a numberof friends who had gathered to welcome the returned wanderers, andcongratulate their prowess, volunteered to accompany the party. So theystarted, quite a procession, relying upon the lately frequented path tosave their garments from rents. 

The new spot chosen for the little pit was only a few yards from theoriginal place, and seemed sunken for several feet in all directions--asignificant fact as it proved. 

This time Charlie wielded the pick, and with such exaggerated force thatthe earth was loosened for quite a space around the box. Some excitementattended the rescue of the precious casket from fancied peril, and thedense bower resounded with an animated discussion of late events. 

Warned by the lengthening shadows they turned to depart when a bystandersuddenly peering forward, said: "Look there, Lee. What is that? There, close to the tree. Temple, do you see?"

"The root of a tree, I think, " replied Lawrence, stooping down toexamine a dark object that jutted out of the newly opened pit. 

Clearing the earth away with his hands he discovered, not a root, butwhat seemed to be the corner of an iron box. Richard, who was besidehim, fell to work, and a further exploration revealed a band of somemetal, probably brass. Intense curiosity now prevailed. 

"Charlie, go to the house and bring some torches, " said his master. Thento Richard: "We must get at the bottom of this. The ladies had bettergo--it is nearly night. "

But the ladies would do nothing of the kind. Here was something thatpromised to be a mystery indeed. They remained till an iron, brass-boundbox, not large but heavy, had been disinterred and with difficultylifted to the surface. With still more difficulty it was conveyed to thevilla, where the expectant group waited for a smith to come and open it. 

When the rusty lock was made to unclasp, the top was raised, and there, in numerous rouleaux, was gold coin to the amount of thousands ofdollars. Excitement was now but a faint term for the sensation. 

The young men were congratulated upon their find till their hands weresore from pressure, and the ladies were embraced in proportion byenthusiastic friends. 

How came it there? Who had buried it and when? There was a legend inthose parts that four wealthy Spaniards had been pursued and butcheredby the Indians in the early days, and that they had, while fleeing away, buried the gold in an Alabama wild. Another tradition was, that duringthe siege of New Orleans, some French settlers had run the blockade andpenetrated far into the country with vast wealth that was never tracedafterwards. Some of the older citizens had also heard of a miserlyancestor of the Lawrences (Mrs. Lee had been a Lawrence) who liveda hermit life in the villa when it was only a log cabin; who deniedhimself the simplest comforts, and who died in want; but he had beenseen by the curious counting his gold at night. 

Whatever the mystery it was never solved. The facts as known were widelypublished, but no rival claimant ever appeared. 

The wedding was a brilliant social affair. The Lee family wererecognized leaders, and their ancestral home was noted for its elegantappointments and generous hospitality. 

"And where will you and Dick live, Netta?" asked a Columbus belle. 

"We think of building in the thicket. "

"What! Bury yourself in Dry Thicket? That horrible place?"

"Soyez tranquille, ma chere, " playfully answered the young bride. "DryThicket has proved too great a blessing to us to be dreaded. However, come and see us one day and judge for yourself. "

And when, as the "one days" had lengthened into many, enticed by therumors she heard, the girl, now a married woman, did go, she found amagnificent residence, with lovely terraced lawns, shell-road drives, and luxuries unknown in city homes. All on the site of the despised DryThicket. White cottages dotted the landscape, and there was no traceof the gloomy thicket save one natural bower overhung with trees andinterlaced by vines. Within its cool recesses was a rustic chair, andsheltered by a miniature Gothic temple, stood the brightly-burnishediron box which chance had made the foundation of so much happinessand prosperity. 

The Girl Farmers

A PRACTICAL STORY

"I see no way out of this, girls, but for you to go to work and supportyourselves with your accomplishments. At least I suppose you've gotsome. Your schooling cost a fortune, and maybe it was well enough, fornow there's a chance for you to make it count. "

And thus delivering himself, gruff Uncle Abner took a fresh chew oftobacco, and let his eyes wander aimlessly among those dead-and-gonerelatives hanging on the walls. Anywhere indeed but at the two rosy, eager faces before him; for the sisters, Margaret and Elizabeth, satwatching and listening to this, the first hint of difficulty in theeasy-going of their pampered lives. 

Margaret spoke. "What is the amount of the mortgage, Uncle?"

"Tut, tut, " he grunted, with a show of impatience, "you can'tunderstand; girls aint expected to know about business; they h'aint anyheads for it. You'd better just shut up the place and come over to myhouse till you can look around you a bit. "

"You are very kind, uncle, but we will consider that after you haveanswered my question, " continued Margaret with quiet insistence. "Howare we to understand unless we are told? And why keep us in ignorance?We have a right to know just how our father's affairs were left, and I, for my part, _intend_ to know;--" and the earnest young voicestopped short of the sob that caught and held it quivering. 

There was silence while the tall clock ticked a few moments away. Thelarge grey eyes had no release in their steady depths. Thus driven UncleAbner proceeded to explain that it was when their brother James got intothat trouble over his wife's property. Their father had been obliged toborrow, and he (Uncle Abner), accommodated him, taking as security amortage on the farm. 

"It was for five thousand dollars, " he concluded, "and of course if hehad lived--, " he paused, and walking to the window, his hands plungeddeep into his homespun pockets, gazed uncomfortably upon the broadstretch of field and pasture so dear to the orphan nieces he wasunwittingly torturing. 

The Milfords were a proud race. Proud in the sturdy yeoman spirit ofhonest independence. Margaret was not long in making up her mind. 

"You are right, uncle, " she said with marked deliberation. "Libbieand I have indeed had every advantage that the best schools afford. We ought to go to work and we will. But--" and her wistful gaze swepttheir beloved possessions indoor and out--"it shall be here; notanywhere else. "

"What upon earth are you driving at?" spluttered Uncle Abner, whileElizabeth smiled acquiescence in the decision of the beloved oldersister whose word had been law since their pinafore days. Whatever theoutlook she would stand by her. "I'd like to know what you can do here!"went on their sage adviser, muttering audibly something about the"infernal nonsense of women folks. "

"I mean it, uncle. I never was further from talking nonsense. We willwork here, on the old farm, and save our home from strangers, if youwill only be patient and give us time. I can take charge of the handsand the crops. Elizabeth will manage the house and garden. In factI find myself longing every minute to begin. It will be something tooccupy us and divert us from gloomy thoughts;" and she glanced at thesomber garments that told of recent bereavement. 

"But you can't stay here without a protector, " objected her uncle, getting downright wrathful as he felt inwardly conscious that he wouldbe obliged to yield. He had seen his niece Margaret have her own waymore than once. Still he must fight for it. 

"You just take my advice and do what I said at first. Let somebody takethe place and work off the debt--in a way, you understand. You can lookabout for a music class, and Lizzie here can get a position in thepublic schools. Of course you know you are welcome at my house as longas you need--"

"Now, listen, uncle, do, " broke in Margaret, catching his arm withclasped hands, as a persuasive cadence crept into her resolute tones. "Iknow I can learn to do what other women are doing all over the land. Notso many Southern women, I grant you; we are a spoiled lot as ever lived, and are foolishly ashamed to work. But we are no better than our sistersof the north and west, and I, for one, do not care a whit what peoplemay think about it. As to being afraid to stay here, that would besilly. Why, I am not so very many years from thirty and Elizabeth isevery bit of twenty-three. Quite old maids, you see;--bachelor maids, ifyou please. The neighborhood is thickly settled; Rock and Don are thebest watch dogs ever seen, and the men in the cabins with their familiesare faithful, you know. The village is in sight, and the big farm bellcan be heard a mile away. Nobody will molest us. I assure you we shallnot be afraid; and last of all, I can handle a pistol as well as a man, if need be; and Libby is a terror with a hat pin! Now do be good and letus try it. "

The brave girl had her way, no matter if Davis did want to add the fourhundred acres of the Milford farm to his own fine estate. 

The first year was not a bed of roses for the inexperienced youngfarmers, but they were not daunted. A music class and a dozen pupils inbelles-lettres helped out the income, and there was no inconsiderablerevenue from the sale of milk, butter, eggs, fruit and vegetables. 

They had "the orchard, the meadow, and deep-tangled wildwood, " full ofsacred memories. They fairly gloried in their dairy, the poultry yard, and garden. They were up at daylight, and with the help of a small boyfrom the cabins, gathered the marketing which Margaret, in her highcart, took to the hotels at the thriving village of the railroadjunction. 

Richard Davis undertook the live-stock raising for the sisters onthe shares. This was a great help, though Uncle Abner, who had beenbulldozed into complacency, he said, hinted on occasions that the "youngfellow would be sharing himself with one of 'em before long. " However, the energetic maidens gave no heed, save to the grand purpose of theirlives. 

They learned to "gar old clo'es amaist as weel as new. " Carpets weredarned and scoured and turned; the time-honored furniture was patchedand polished; and their fair hands did not shrink from putting on afresh coat of paint, or paper, now and then. Under severe pressure oftemptation they parted with several pieces of old mahogany during thecraze for antiques, at prices almost fabulous. This they invested insome shares of bank stock. 

The second year's profits footed up enough to make a payment to UncleAbner, and then their joy knew no bounds. In vain their anxious friendsurged them to sell out and live in a small cottage. Their sympathy wasthrown away. 

"Every blade of grass is dear to me, " persisted Margaret. "Perhaps Ihave more sentiment than sense, but this should be my life work. Andwhen free from debt, think how easy to see the end of every year fromthe beginning. Meanwhile everything is getting more simple for us. Atfirst, we had to be content with just the old rut, for we knew nothingelse. Now we study the best methods. We take a farmer's journal, whichhas proved a noble education. The continual improvements in machineryand necessary implements are of inestimable value. The best costs alittle more at first, but in the end it pays. "

"I always detested farming, " exclaimed an old schoolmate who had marrieda rich banker. 

"Come and see us, " said Margaret, with her hopeful smile. "Let us showyou our work. "

She came, partly from curiosity, and together the friends went overthe premises. First, the kitchen garden where grew in hills or rowsvegetables after the most approved latter-day culture; next, the glowinggarden of flowers whose gorgeous bloom found ready sale; then thepoultry yard, pig-sties, bee-hives and stables, Margaret all the whilediscoursing upon remedies for this or that drawback, and how to managethe diverse brands and breeds, till her dainty friend held up her handsin honest wonder. 

"How on earth and where did you learn all this?" she found voice to ask. 

"From the journals, I read about farming and gardening, abouthousekeeping, and raising all those barn-yard creatures. We are thinkingof adding a small family of canaries to our stock; they are much soughtafter and readily sell. Oh, I could not get on at all without my papers. They are everything to me. Why, just listen to what I know about corn, "she went on, with a proud light in her handsome eyes. "Kentucky wasonce a leading state in raising corn, and she will be again, " and herefollowed facts and statistics singularly incongruous from rosy lips tothe listening ears of the city girl. "There is nothing, Amelia, thatpays like doing a thing well. For instance, our own Kentucky is notfamous for well-kept farms, but I could not afford to have my fencesdown, my fields choked with weeds, and my stock depredating elsewhere. "

"But how do you manage your servants? They are the great bugbearnowadays. "

"By making them respect me and by paying good wages. They should notbe expected to give their time and strength at starvation prices. I do have trouble sometimes. In fact I think, first and last, I havedone everything but plow. But in the main I get along. The farm isprospering, and a few years hence I mean to have it called a model, not a mortgaged farm. "

"It is all right, of course, my dear, if you like it, " said her cityfriend, with somewhat unwilling admiration, "but I should think youwould get dreadfully tanned and coarse. "

"Do I look so?" asked the country girl, with a happy little challenginglaugh. "I was certainly never in better health. "

And the visitor had to admit that there was no lack of womanly beautyin the rich coloring of the young farmer's rounded cheeks, albeit a fewtiny freckles bridged the straight nose. 

"But think how utterly you are lost to society! What a sacrifice for aMilford!" lamented the rich man's wife, to whom life's hard lessons hadnot come. "I can never forget the gorgeous entertainment at this oldhouse when we were first home from school. Such flowers! Such music!Such a supper! And, oh, the lovely gowns! I declare, Maggie, you were abeauty that night, and Libbie never looked prettier. It seems a cryingshame!"

"Not converted yet?" playfully asked the other, though the quick tearssprang to her eyes at the sudden stab of memory. 

"Remember, dear, " she added gently, "we could not have gone out evenif we had not decided to give up all idle pleasures. But we are nothermits, I assure you. Our old friends are most kind. Perhaps one daywe may live again those happy times. "

"But surely you will marry. A girl like you could never be an old maid. "

At which sally Margaret laughed outright, adding gaily that there wouldbe time enough and to spare for matrimony. 

"I am too busy now to even think of it. By and by I shall have thefinest of bees and fancy poultry. Already my grape arbor is thriving. I sell quantities of fruit and berries. But my stronghold is farmliterature; I devour it at night, while Libbie reads society bits in thevillage weekly, or cons the city daily. Poor Lib! It goes right hardwith her to draggle her skirts in the dewy strawberry beds; but shefeels consoled when I fetch up the till! What misers we be, hoarding ourstrong box!"

So these heroic girls are going on, the respected of all observers. Their example has encouraged others to throw off the shackles of"Southern caste" and be independent of unwilling relatives more favoredby fortune. The mortgage is not yet entirely lifted, but it will be. Thebluegrass pastures of the fine old estate have been given over to thegrazing of blooded horses and cattle, at so much per head, therebycounting in a greatly increased revenue. 

Margaret's latest venture is a fine young thoroughbred, which theknowing ones predict will prove a gold mine. So mote it be. 

Uncle Abner is patient and helpful. He has long ago felt like hiding"his diminished head, " and is proud of his young nieces. They have savedthe old homestead where three generations of the family were born. Alonethey have struggled, protected by the God of the orphan, whose glorioussunshine and rain so abundantly bless their labors!

Proving a Heart

A LOVE STORY

"Hold fast! don't be frightened! I can save you if you will only bestrong!" were the exclamations that burst hurriedly from young Dr. Gardner's lips as, with horror-struck face he sprang from hiswindow-seat and bounded downstairs. 

And well might he hasten, for she who awaited his succor, hungperilously between heaven and earth, expecting every moment to be dashedto the ground. 

For some minutes previous to his excited words, Weldon Gardner's gazehad been riveted in awful fascination upon an immense balloon that wasfast descending toward the high roofs that clustered on all sides abouthis comfortable rooms on ---- St. , New York. 

Something was wrong. He could readily detect this in the unsteadywavering of the gaily-striped air-ship. And so, too, thought the crowdthat he now saw had gathered in the street below. 

Evidently the aeronaut had lost control of his craft. Lower still ittottered, and now were visible several arms outstretched in the vainappeal for aid. 

Not a sound escaped the spell-bound multitude in the streets, for in amoment more the fate of the doomed adventurers must be decided. Suddenlytwo human forms dropped from the loosened basket and struck with afearful thud against the elevated railway, then rebounded to the streetbelow a mass of mangled flesh. Death was instantaneous. With one impulsethe throng surged about the bodies; but Dr. Gardner's eyes were stillfixed upon the balloon, for as if relieved by the rapid lightening ofits burden it gave a spirited sweep upward, then passed over his ownroof. 

Hastening to his back windows, which overlooked a paved court, he threwhimself into a chair, and strained his gaze in search of the wreckedpleasure-craft, to which one other figure clung with the might ofdesperation. 

One large tree, spared by the pruning axe of the city architect, shadedthe court; and into the wide-spreading boughs of this tree, did thepowerless balloon now descend, its ropes becoming hopelessly entangled. Clinging fast to whatever offered support, a young girl with dark, terror-stricken eyes, met his look of horror, as with the reassuringwords already quoted, Weldon Gardner rushed down to the rescue. 

Even as he gained the spot, shouting to the men in service to bring aladder, a number of persons had penetrated to the court, and were nowcollected around the tree, uttering excited comments upon the disaster. 

With all possible speed the young physician reached the sufferer, butunconsciousness had already closed her eyes to all danger. Bearing thelight form from the entangling meshes, the doctor ascended to hisconsulting-room, and deposited his burden upon a couch. Summoning hishousekeeper, he dismissed the gaping followers, and proceeded to examinethe death-like form he had preserved from mutilation. 

The patient seemed to be about eighteen years old, and bore unmistakableevidences of the lady in her attire. 

Mercifully forebearing to restore her senses till after his skillfullexamination, the doctor could discover no broken limbs, and nothing nowremained but to enable her to speak for herself as to her condition. After a persistent use of restoratives, the anxious attendants wererewarded by seeing the color flutter back into the pallid cheeks, andthe long eyelashes quiver with returning life. 

Her first words were: "Lucien! Maggie! we are lost!" Then a strongshudder convulsed her slight frame, and with a startled cry sheattempted to spring up. 

"Be careful, " gently remonstrated the doctor, laying a detaining handupon her. "Tell me--are you hurt anywhere?"

"I don't know--I think not--oh! who are you? Where am I? Where are theothers? Were they killed? Oh! it was too horrible!" and the agitatedspeaker burst into a passion of tears so violent as to alarm herwatchers. 

Leaving her to the housekeeper, Dr. Gardner quickly prepared andadministered a soothing potion. Then, enjoining absolute quiet, hedrew the blinds, and proceeded downstairs to learn of the ill-fatedcompanions of his patient. The crowd still lingered about the spot, although the bodies had been removed to await a claimant. Nothing wasknown except that the balloon had ascended that morning from one of thecity squares, and that, as frequently happened, a party of young peoplehad gone up to get a bird's eye view of the metropolis. Who they weredid not yet appear. 

Several hours passed, and still the rescued girl slept the dreamlesssleep induced by the nervous shock and the narcotic draught of thedoctor. Patiently the housekeeper sat and watched. 

As twilight fell, she gave a sigh and opened her large eyes in surpriseupon the strange face beside her. Taking advantage of the opportunemoment, Mrs. Buford removed the pongee walking suit from the drowsygirl, and then gently enfolding her in a soft white wrapper, the kindmatron assisted her to the bed which had been prepared, the girlsubmitting with a bewildered look of questioning wonder, and finallysinking back gratefully into slumber. 

And here Weldon Gardner came before retiring for the night. 

Softly touching the delicate wrist in its dainty frill, he noted thesomewhat fitful pulsations of the disturbed life-centers. Bending abovethe tell-tale heart-beats, his practiced ear assured him that ere longthe deep repose of his charge would effectually restore her to health. 

How like chiseled marble she looked, lying there in her absolutehelplessness beneath his stranger gaze! How pure the white brow, withits clustering rings of glossy hair! How exquisitely fine the white handto which the dimples of babyhood yet clung! How classic the contour ofher face, into which already the warm hue of health was creeping! Aheavy sigh escaped him as he noted each perfection of outline. Who wasthis lovely stranger? And what could she be to him?

"Why was I ever such a dupe?" he said in his heart. "Fettered--fetteredfor life!"

But suddenly realizing that except in his professional capacity he hadno right thus to intrude upon her slumbers, the young physician turnedfrom the enchanting picture. 

"How is she now, sir?" respectfully inquired the housekeeper. 

"Fairly well, " he replied cheerfully; "I do not think she is hurt, except a few bruises, which we must look after. She was thrown prettyhard against that tree. To-morrow she will be able to give an account ofherself. We can do nothing toward finding her friends before that time. Call, if she should become restless, " and the young man retired to hisown apartment, there to ponder deeply, as he had never before ponderedin his life. 

Some days later the following letter was posted by Weldon Gardner:

 NEW YORK, September 20, 1879. 

 "My Dear Aunt:--

 "Your kind letter reminds me that never, in all these years of boyhood grown ripe, has duty come to me in as repulsive a form as now, I tell you, shocked as you may feel when you read the words, that I would rather put a bullet through my head than meet Evelyn Howard at this time! Why couldn't she stay in England? And what cursed folly induced my parents to thus bind me for life to one I had never seen? True, I submitted. But you know with what an appeal my dying mother besought my compliance, and what could I do? I cared for no one else. How was I to foresee that the tie would ever be so intensely galling?

 "I know all that you would say about honor, manhood, and all the category of virtues. I know them all. Nor am I willing to act the scoundrel just yet. But I must have time; I can _not_ marry that girl now. Nor will I consent to meet her yet. Let her think I am out of town, sick, busy, _dead_; anything, till I can screw my courage to the sticking point. 

 "About the balloon tragedy--yes, you heard correctly of my figuring in the matter. The girl is Miss Lina Dent, of Brooklyn, and I am happy to report that she is entirely recovered, though deeply afflicted at the fearful death of her friends. It seems that they had, in a spirit of fun, gone up in the balloon, feeling confident that their adventure was, to say the least, of somewhat doubtful propriety. They did not think of danger. The cowardly desertion of the æronaut, as soon as he could leap to a roof in safety, precipitated their fall. 

 "The young victims, Lucien and Maggie Taylor, were too much frightened to hold to their frail support. Their tragic fate has plunged an excellent household into mourning. Bitterly my new acquaintance lamented her folly in consenting to the excursion; but how can a man in his senses add to her condemnation when she looks through such eyes, and speaks with such lips? Not I, I assure you. 

 "Miss Dent is visiting a relative in Brooklyn, and in my character of physician, I have been kindly received. The strangest part of it all is the odd way that girl looked at me when she knew enough to look rationally at anybody; and her obstinate persistence in leaving my house before she was fit to go. And it was all I could do to induce her to see me again. But her cousin was quite cordial, and now I may claim to have established an easy footing at the house. But about Evelyn Howard--don't, my dear aunt, if you have a spark of mercy, require me to see her now. "

 * * * * *

A month passed by, and October, in glorious tints of autumnal beauty, shed its light over the city. In a handsome drawing-room on BrooklynHeights sat Weldon Gardner and Lina Dent. The young girl wore a softwhite dress, and her figure was replete with roseate health and beauty. 

The young physician was pleading strongly and earnestly, gazing into theeloquent eyes before him as if his very life hung upon their favor. 

"But I know so little of you, Dr. Gardner, " was her remonstrance inanswer to his ardent suit, "true you have earned my life-longgratitude--"

"Don't mention that, if you have any regard for me, " he interrupted, ina sort of disdain. 

"Yes, " she urged, "I must mention it. To you I owe my life, and perhaps, my reason. Of course I know you in all points of family, position, andprofessional success; but your own true self--how can I know that youwill secure my happiness? Is there nothing you can tell me of yourselfwhich will reassure me?"

And the bright, honest look of her eyes robbed her plain words allpossible sting. 

"First, tell me that you love me, " he argued, "let me know that it wouldbe sweet to you to place your happiness in my keeping. At least you cando this. You know if you love me. "

She listened with averted look. 

"And if I confess that I love you, " she said at length, in a low voice;"if I do this, would it not be mockery to learn, when too late, that Ihad made a mistake?"

"But, in heaven's name, Lina, what can you mean? Why do you doubt me?What is there to tell? I could have no secrets--"

Then there rushed to his memory with a force that sent the blood to hisbrow and almost took his breath, the conviction that he _had_ asecret from her--that he _was_ deceiving her--that it was unmanlyto seek her love with a lie on his lips. For a brief season hisengagement had been forgotten, or ignored. He had hugged to his breastwith unreasoning apathy the theory that the present was enough toconsider--that the future must care for itself--that once his promisedwife, Lina Dent should be his if all the world conspired against it. Butnow came the hated thought that Evelyn Howard stood between him and theprecious one who had been his day-star since the night when he hadnursed her back to life. 

Starting up, he strode back and forth, not noting the pale cheeks andstartled eyes of the girl who watched him in ill-repressed anxiety. 

At length, sitting down beside her, he seized her soft fingers with agrasp of which he was hardly aware. Then instantly relaxing the rigorof his clasp, he pleaded:

"Let me hold this pure little hand while I confess to you, my only love, that your clear eyes have read my soul--that I have deceived you--thatI love you beyond all else this world contains; but that the most cruelfate man ever before suffered, keeps me from you, unless, indeed, yourlove will help me to remove the barrier. "

And while the young girl listened, with drooping head, he told her ofhis hated engagement--of the painful circumstances that had betrayed himinto compliance. 

"But I never dreamed of this sort of Nemesis! I could not have been inmy senses to thus barter my freedom forever. "

Slowly withdrawing her hand, the girl said, still in the same low tones:

"And you do not love your betrothed?"

"Love her?" he echoed. "I tell you, Lina, I have never even seen her. Her people have been abroad for an age. She was in New York a few weeksago and, I understand, took offense at my continued absence from herside, and went back to England. This is what she left for me;" andplunging his hand into his breast pocket he selected from his note-casea fragrant little billet-doux, formally desiring Dr. Gardner to explainhis strange conduct at his leisure--that the next opportunity grantedhim of seeing Evelyn Howard must be of his own seeking. 

There was a pause after the reading of this aggrieved, dignified littlemessage. 

"And can you, as a gentleman of honor, reconcile your neglect of thewriter?" asked Lina Dent, in a voice in which a cadence of scorninvoluntarily sounded. 

"Honor! Can't you see that honor was what kept me from her? Such honoras a man feels when he knows that he is poised between a Scylla and aCharybdis of desperate fatality?"

"There can be but one answer to all this, Dr. Gardner, " the girl repliedwith proud dignity. "It would ill become me to sit in judgment on youafter what I have received at your hands; but you will acknowledge thatit was cruelly inconsiderate to seek my love while a barrier such asthis existed. How do I know that you will not love your betrothed afteryou have seen her?"

"Love her--love any other than you, my beautiful, peerless one? Do nottorture me with such a supposition. I care nothing for Evelyn Howard;I do not know her; I do not care to know her; nor is she in the leastdependent upon me for happiness. She has vast wealth, and can commandwhatever fate she chooses. "

"But wealth cannot buy happiness, " she sadly replied, "and our courseis clear. I can see you no more till you have met your betrothed andreceived your dismissal--or, "--and her clear cheek paled again--"made upyour mind to fulfill your promise to her. Farewell! I thank you for yourunwise devotion to me, but I can see you no more. "

"Oh, Lina, do not doom me to this total separation. Why it seems aneternity. Where and when can I see you again? Why didn't I go to thatgirl when she was here? Fool, coward that I was! And now I cannot leaveNew York. Grant me some respite, my love--I cannot live without you!"

But much as she sympathized with him she was firm; and when WeldonGardner left the house, with despair tugging at his heart, the only rayof sunshine that pierced the gloom was the conviction that she did lovehim--that should anything occur to separate them forever, her heartwould plead strongly for him, and her love would strive with his toovercome the barrier. 

 * * * * *

Months went by, and still Evelyn Howard eluded Weldon Gardner's pursuit. Bitterly was he punished for his culpable neglect of her. In vain hewrote letters urging her to come to New York. She was traveling withfriends and declined to change her course. He followed her to London, to Paris. In vain! She was ever just before him on his journey: alwaysmissing, never meeting him. Then he wrote to Lina Dent, beseeching herto relent, since he had done all in his power to carry out her wishes. She did not reply. Then in sullen despair he gave up the pursuit. Hecarefully avoided going out except to see patients, declined allinvitations, and took solitary refuge in the stern exactions of duty. 

As the year drew to a close he noticed in the list of arrivals fromEurope, Miss Evelyn Howard and her party; and among the personals he sawthat the beautiful Miss Howard would appear at Governor B's reception onthe next evening. He had received cards to this party, and now, with thefierce desire to end his torture reawakened, he prepared to accept theinvitation. As he entered the brilliant rooms his eye fell upon the formand face of Lina Dent, attired in an exquisite costume, and looking farmore radiant than in his wildest dreams he had ever pictured her. 

Feasting upon her loveliness, with eyes hungry in their wistfulness, hewas about to approach her when she suddenly looked toward him and theireyes met. He caught the quick flash of feeling; he knew that he wasstill beloved! But even as he drank in the delicious confirmation of hishopes, she passed him without recognition, and he knew that she wouldnot break her vow--that she would not meet him till he had fulfilled herconditions. Too miserable to seek Miss Howard in the throng, the youngphysician pleaded an urgent call to a patient, and left his host almostbefore he had fairly entered upon the festivities. 

One evening, soon after the last fearful disappointment, Dr. Gardnerreceived a note asking him to come to a certain number on Fifth Avenue, and there he should meet Evelyn Howard. She inferred that he had hadample time to learn if he really desired to form her acquaintance, andshe was ready now to see him. 

Tearing the paper to atoms in sudden irritation and setting his teeth, the young physician was soon at the appointed place, an elegantbrown-stone mansion, quite familiar to his eyes in his drives aboutthe city. 

He was not left long in suspense. There was a sound of rapid stepsdescending the stairs, with a frou-frou of silken skirts, and in amoment Lina Dent stood before him, her face aglow with a proud lighthe had never seen there, and her hands extended in glad welcome. 

"You, Lina! You here? You have relented? This is too much happiness!"

Catching both soft white hands in his, he bent his lips to them, full ofthe rapture he could not speak. He forgot to wonder why she was there. He forgot everything but the love in her eyes and the joyous ring of hervoice. 

Ere they could be seated the door again opened and admitted an elderlylady, who approached smiling. 

"My dear aunt!" exclaimed the young lover. "You, too? This _is_ asurprise! What does it all mean? How did you get here, and when?"

The ladies stood smiling at each other and gazing upon him with asignificance that indeed clamored for explanation. 

"Weldon, is it possible you do not guess?" asked his aunt. 

"What? Why, what do you mean? I am all bewildered!" he exclaimed, looking from one to the other till a faint glimmer of the truth beganto appear through the mists. 

"Stupid boy!" again emphasized the lady, "whom did you come here tosee?"

Quickly glancing at the beautiful, radiant, still-smiling face of theyoung girl, and then at the impressive features of the elder lady, Weldon Gardner, with bated breath and a dazed expression in his startledeyes, exclaimed:

"You--are--Evelyn Howard--you?"

"Exactly so. Doctor Gardner--Evelina Dent Howard--at your service!"

As she spoke, she placed her hand in his, and asked, in the liquid toneswhose cadences he so well remembered, "Have you been punished enough foryour unknightly scorn of the girl you condemned without trial?"

"Oh, forgive!" he pleaded, drawing her to a seat beside him. "I see itall now. What a dolt you must have thought me! How could you ever havetolerated me?"

"There is the conspirator, " archly said Evelyn, pointing to Mrs. Duke. "She it was who enabled me to deceive you. I wrote to her immediatelyupon leaving your house for my cousin's, in Brooklyn, and she at oncedevised the scheme that I have found so hard to carry out. Meanwhile, she never lost sight of you. "

It was long before the necessary explanations were exhausted, and whenthe new day dawned no happier man proudly entered upon his duties thandid Weldon Gardner. 

 * * * * *

It is upon a soft September afternoon that we last see Dr. Gardner andhis lovely wife. Within a snug little arbor beside the lake in CentralPark the two sit side by side, watching the idly-floating pleasurecrafts, and noting the lazy ripples of the green wavelets. Their heartsgrow tender with a mighty love that finds no language in which to clotheitself. 

Every blessing of life is theirs; every cadence that affection knowsmakes harmony in their words. Gayly-dressed children pass by, some withtoy balloons, bounding into air. Evelyn shuddered at even this tinyreminder of her reckless adventure, and clinging to her husband's arm, blesses him and the day that confided her to his keeping. Accident hadtested his noble nature as the ordinary course of events never couldhave done; and now was fulfilled the last wish of his parents, that inEvelyn Howard should Weldon Gardner find the glory of heaven's last, best gift to man. 

Hezekiah's Wooing

A FIRESIDE SKETCH

"Walk right in, Mr. Lightus, do, " said the cheery voice of the WidowPartridge, as the portly figure of Mr. Hezekiah Lighthouse appeared inher hospitable doorway. 

"Thankee, thankee, I don't care if I do, Mis' Patridge, " responded thevisitor, heavily bringing himself within the family circle. 

"How's all?" he asked, comfortably establishing himself in thearm-chair. 

"Middlin', thankee, " said the widow. "I've been enjoyin' very poorhealth till lately. Now I seem to be pickin' up a little, " as brushingthe seat of a rocker with her gingham apron, she sat down at theopposite end of the hearth. 

"An' Cicely Ann--how's she?"

"Oh, she--why she's allers the picture o' health. Here she comes now. "

As she spoke, a fair, rosy-cheeked girl entered the cheerful room, withher arms full of painting materials. These she deposited upon the table, then dutifully greeted the visitor. 

"An' how do you like them new fol-de-rols, Cicely Ann?" inquiredHezekiah, eyeing askance the collection. 

The fol-de-rols consisted of some wooden plaques of different sizes, which the new art craze had brought to the widow's cottage. 

"She's gettin' along right nice, I think, " replied the widow, lookingproudly at her one chick. "You see, she's a lot o' darnin' an' one thinganother to do, but she finds time for her landskips and things. "

"Well, mebbe so, " assented Hezekiah grudgingly. "For my part there'snothing set's a gal off like spinnin' an' weavin', an' it puts moremoney in her pocket, besides. "

"La, Mr. Lightus, " said the widow deprecatingly, "spinnin' an' weavin'sgone out o' fashion. Gals will be gals, and they mostly go in forfashion, you know. "

Cicely's red lip curled in scorn as she applied herself vigorouslyto her plaque, where the inevitable girl with muff and umbrella wasstumbling into a snowdrift. 

Hezekiah picked up the widow's daily paper which, by the way, he largelydepended on for the news. Silence reigned for a while, save for therustle of the sheet. The click-clack of the widow's knitting needles, and the rapid plying of Cicely's brush, were varied at last by the girlsurreptitiously pulling a note out of her jaunty apron pocket. 

As she read it a smile broke over the dimpled features, and in a momentmore she pushed the table from her and left the room. Swiftly she spedto the big apple tree where her trystings were held with Rufus, herplaymate and lover. 

Hezekiah slowly raised his head, and laying down the paper, saidthoughtfully: "'Pears like the gal gits skittisher every day. Do youreckon she'll ever come to like me?"

"Why, I dunno why she wouldn't, " ventured the widow with an encouragingsmirk. 

"Well, she don't seem to, no way. " Then looking suspiciously through thewindow. "Where's she gone to?"

"Oh, nowheres I reckon, " said the mother soothingly, "nowheres inpartic'ler. She's allers around. "

Another silence, during which the visitor carefully noted the land, stock and crop items in the paper, then took his leave. But not till hehad cast a lingering look behind and said: "This is about thecomfortablest place a feller could drop into, in my opinion. "

It was some minutes after when the truant Cicely re-entered the littlekeeping-room, her cheeks and eyes bright with happiness. 

"Oh, mother, wish me joy! Rufus has asked me to be his wife. "

"Mercy on us, Cicely!" exclaimed the widow in a sort of terror, "and youwant to marry him?"

"Of course I do, " proudly said the girl; "and I mean to marry him. "

"Oh, Cicely, my child! and what will Mr. Lightus do--him that's beencomin' here so patient, off an' on?"

"Mr. Lighthouse!" disdainfully echoed the girl. "Do you suppose I wouldhave that old goose--old enough to be my grandfather!"

"Old goose! Fie, Cicely, to talk so disrespectful of your pa's bestfriend. He's well-to-do an' has got the finest place in the county. Think how nice we'd be fixed, child. We'd never have to work no more, "and the widow sighed as the girl looked into her face for thecongratulations she expected in vain. 

"Well, mother, I can't help it. I am willing to work and so is Rufus. Heis as industrious and steady as the day is long. I shouldn't mind havingMr. Lighthouse for an uncle, but husband--pshaw!" and the prettyfeatures screwed themselves into a comical grimace. 

"Child, child, I'm disappointed and no mistake. Here's that man's beena comin' here all these weeks, an' while he ain't asked for you, it'sclear he wants you. An' now I've got to tell him you won't have him. There's that moggidge on the house, too. But that's allers theway--troubles don't never come single, " and the sigh became a whimper. 

"Now, don't you worry, mother, " said Cicely, clasping her arms about thestill fair neck, "don't worry; we will come out all right, mortgage andall. "

Taking fresh courage, the widow again pressed the claims of the portlywooer, but what chance had she against the combined powers of young loveand the daughter's stronger nature. 

Time passed. Almost every evening found Hezekiah at the cottage, butthough persistent, things did not apparently make much progress. At lastthe stiffness of the customary interviews seemed to break. 

"Mis' Patridge, " he said, getting very red in the face and awkward as tohands and feet, "Cicely Ann gits worse every day. Ain't there no chanceof her puttin' up with me at all?"

"Why, yes, I reckon so, " bashfully said the widow. "She's young andfoolish, you know. You can't expect gals to be sensible and sober downlike they will when they get holt of some wise person tha'll train 'em. "

"Well, " sighed the wooer, "I guess I might as well stop comin'. 'Taintno use to be forever worritin' after anything. I did think, howsomever, it 'ud be sorter nice to have us four live together. Young folks makes ahouse kinder lively. But I don't git on, somehow; so I guess I might aswell hang up my fiddle an' quit. " And the ancient wooer slowly rose tohis full height. 

"Us four!" repeated the petrified widow, mouth and eyes open to theirwidest extent. 

"Yes--us four, " continued Hezekiah. "I was thinkin', you know, thatbein' as this young feller Rufus what's-his-name 'peared to be sweet onthe gal, mebbe you'd take to me an' we'd all git spliced together. Butshe don't like me and wouldn't treat me right. I couldn't stand fussesan' the like. "

"La, Mr. Lightus, how you do astonish me, " faintly ejaculated theflushed widow, her comely face crimson to the roots of her soft brownhair. 

"You don't say!" exclaimed the rapidly enlightened Hezekiah, rousingto something like animation. "Did you think--didn't you know--well, I declare, I don't actually believe you did. Now ain't it a puzzle, begad!"

While he jerked out his amazed sentences, his companion, fairly overcomewith the revelation that dawned upon her for the first time, buried herface in her hands. 

"Mis' Patridge, " timidly said the agitated wooer, approaching nearer, "you don't say--that is, do you mean to say that if Cicely Ann couldlike me well enough to not be sassy around the house, an' keepin' youoncomfortable about it, you an' me could hitch on an' be pardners? Youdon't mean it now, do you?"

"Mean it!" murmured the widow, her fair cheeks aglow withsuddenly-stirred enthusiasm. "I'm only too happy, Mr. Lightus, I neverthought--"

But at this juncture the rejuvenated wooer ventured to clasp his roughbut honest arms about the blushing prize he had won. 

At this juncture, also, Cicely and Rufus happened in, but beat a hastyand giggling retreat, as they rapidly took in the situation. 

All's well that ends well. Hezekiah Lighthouse married the WidowPartridge, and set young Rufus up in business. As a father the spiritedCicely yielded him the respect and affection he deserved. 

She made but one stipulation. On the marriage morn she whispered theearnest entreaty: "Mother, _don't_ let him call me Cicely _Ann_!"

A Summer Daisy

A PASTORAL

"Heighho!" yawned Carroll Hamilton, picking up his long legs from thegrass, "this is not making hay while the sun shines, " and he proceededleisurely to place a camp stool in position, erect an easel, and spreadout sketching materials. 

A few bold, rapid strokes transferred a pretty bit of rural landscape tothe canvas, and this much gained, the amateur artist lit a fine Havanaand lazily drifted off again into reverie. His thoughts were not ofa pleasant nature. Why couldn't a man do as he liked in this world?Here the particular man in his mind--to-wit his own agreeable self, had devoted his twenty-four years to acquiring sundry dazzlingaccomplishments, zonly to have his interest in life dampened by amatrimonial scheme, hatched long ago in the fertile brains of his ownparents and the parents of his prospective dulcinea in conspiracy. 

Yes, a regular wet blanket had awaited his return from Italia's classicshores. What an insufferable bore to be pledged, promised, all but tiedto an unknown female whose only merit, he wilfully wagered, lay in herinvincible ground rents. 

"Why, my son, " his doting mother said, "think of it--two hundred thousanddollars in her own right, and all yours for the asking. "

He did think of it; and he vowed in his own mind to dosomething--anything; run away, commit suicide, before he would joinhimself for life to any girl he had never seen, especially oldThornton's daughter, who seemed so willing to jump at him. Not he. Invain they urged him to cultivate the fair damsel. Not till he had bracedhis nerves with country air, he said. This tonic secured, he graciouslyconsented to be introduced, but would reserve the ratification of thewedding treaty till later. 

What's the use in having fathers and mothers, anyhow? They only plaguethe life out of one. They don't ever think of letting a fellow aloneonce in a while. They--

What other heinousness they would be guilty of would never be shapedinto thought, for at this moment down came a dainty little slipper, witha dainty little rosette, from the tree above, plump on to his sketch, and a violent start and a glance upward revealed a bewildering littlepink-stockinged foot, which was the daintiest of all. 

The abrupt spring to his feet brought down the camp stool, cigar, easeland all, but not the foot, for the rest of the apparition was caught andhidden by the clustering young shoots of the apple tree. 

A whistle--quite involuntary, if not polite--was shaping itself a briefdistance below his staring eyes, when, recovering himself and tiptoeingto his full height, he peered into the branches and said, a littleirrelevantly:

"I beg pardon!"

Two milk-white hands parted the leaves, and a flushed pink-and-whiteface appeared at the opening. 

"It's only me, " cooed a musical voice, and as if the sound had unlockedthe pent-up silence, two rows of pearls shone between two red lips, twolarge blue eyes twinkled with fun, and as charming a peal of laughter aswas ever vouchsafed to mortal ears rippled merrily on the air. 

"And who is me, may I ask?" rather saucily asked the routed artist. 

"Why, Daisy--Daisy Merrifield; don't you know?"

"Why, no, I don't know; that is, I didn't know, but of course I knownow; and I'm delighted to know. "

At all these "knows", the maiden laughed her merry laugh again. 

"May I ask what you are doing up there?"

"Doing nothing--just what you are doing down here. "

"Ah, but I was doing something very nice down here, only you have nearlyspoiled it, " and with mock regret the young man picked up the slipperand comically surveyed its Cinderella proportions. 

"So I did, " was the regretful reply, "you see it was awfully poky, having to sit so still. I must have grown desperate at last and kickedit off--I am sorry. "

"Well, I am not one bit sorry, " he said. "I'll do another picture, andnext time I'll sketch the tree, " he added, his brown eyes twinkling withamusement. 

"But how did you get up there, and how will you get down?" were his nextqueries, putting the little slipper into the pocket of his jacket. 

"Well, I climbed up, " she admitted. "I suppose I'll have to jump down. Reach out your hands, " she cried, and a sudden rustle showed she waspreparing to spring. "Good gracious me!" was her next exclamation, asthe willing hands were extended, "my hair is all caught. "

"Hold perfectly still till I get up there, " he said with concern, andreplacing the stool, he was soon on a level with the fair prisoner. 

Patiently he disentangled the long golden locks from the infringingboughs, and gathering them all in her little hands, she gave them avigorous twist forward over her face out of further mischief. 

"Now, my slipper, please, " as the young fellow retreated. Obedientlyrestoring the truant article, she deftly adjusted it, and cried, "All ready!"

It is hardly to be wondered at that her descent was arrested, and herrounded form tenderly lowered to terra firma. 

"I like this out here, don't you?" was her next remark, shaking out herfairy muslin skirts and placidly surveying the scene. "I've been outevery day these--let me see--yes, three days. Aunt Hepsy says I'll gettanned, but I don't mind. You know Aunt Hepsy, don't you? Everybodydoes. "

"No, but I'd like to, " he said, and he meant it. 

"She lives at the farm-house yonder--she and Uncle Reuben. They are thebest old souls! So this is what you were doing, " she abruptly added, picking up the sketch. "You wouldn't think I could draw, but I can, "with a proud little toss of the hair. 

"I would think you could do anything, " he gallantly replied. 

But she was intent upon the picture, with its bold, true outlines. 

"This isn't bad, " was her sage critcism. 

"Didn't you wear a hat, or something?" he asked, looking around and upinto the tree. 

"No--yes--I wore this, " and pulling from her pocket a large blue squareof cotton, she tied it under her chin with the utmost naivete. 

"It's Aunt Hepsy's, " she explained. "There, do you hear that bell?That's for dinner, " and taking a tiny watch from an elf-like pocket, sheadded, "Only half-past eleven. But, to be sure, we ate breakfast withthe chickens. It's horrible. "

"Don't you live here?"

"Live here?" she echoed. "No, I'm only visiting. Good-bye, I must go. Iam much obliged, though, " and as if the recollection were overpowering, she again burst out into her ringing laugh. 

"It was too funny you didn't see me; and I so scared I was afraid tobreathe. Good-bye, I hope you will have a good time with your picture. "

"But you are not going to dismiss me, are you? Mayn't I take you home?"

"Yes, if you like; only you musn't stay long. I've got to do Rollin andPlutarch while I'm out here, and can't be bothered. "

With difficulty repressing an explosion, the young man walked besidethe woodland sprite, with his goods and chattels thrown across hisshoulders, and found himself falling--yes, tumbling--headlong in love. Such an airy, fairy, exquisite piece of humanity it had never been hisfortune to behold. 

"You are too young to worry your brain with dry old fossils like Rollinand Plutarch, " he said, with what gravity he could. 

"I am a person of twenty, " she affirmed with demure satisfaction, as shetripped along in a manner quite enchanting. 

At the door of the farm-house a fair, motherly face smiled a welcomefrom the border of a spotless cap, then sobered a little at the sightof a stranger. 

"This is Aunt Hepsy, " simply said Daisy, "and you are--?" hesitating. 

A flush not born of the sunshine mounted to his brow as with swiftthought he saw the shoals ahead, and did not dare reveal his identity. 

"John Smith, " he said, with his natural ease. 

"Oh!" half exclaimed Daisy, upon hearing such a very common name fromsuch very uncommon lips; but checking it, and softly humming a tune, sheretired to an inner room to prepare for dinner. 

This episode was the beginning of elysium for John Smith. Every day sawhim at the farm-house. Every day revealed some new charm in the Daisyhe had found. She was as industrious and sensible as she was petite andpretty. Rollin and Plutarch were discarded for modern authors, or forsimple chit-chat about mamma, papa, and little ones at home. 

But when the day came for John Smith to tell his love, he met with ashock that quite paralyzed his senses. 

Looking up with her big blue eyes, she said:

"You mustn't talk like that; I'm engaged. "

"Engaged?" he stammered, "engaged?"

"Yes, I'm engaged. "

"And to whom? May I ask?"

"Oh, I can't tell you his name; it's a secret yet. He is a person Inever saw. "

"Sheer madness!" was his horrified ejaculation. "Never saw him, andgoing to marry him?"

"I promised, you know; I must, if he wants me, " she said in herunconcerned way. 

"But don't you love _me_, Daisy?"

"Yes, I suppose I do, but that can't be helped; a promise is a promise. "

"Who is to prevent it?" he exclaimed impatiently. "I say it shall behelped. "

There was not time for further rhapsodies. Aunt Hepsy appeared with atelegram, calling Daisy home; and home she went next day, leaving Mr. John Smith in despair. In vain he laid siege to Aunt Hepzibah andUncle Reuben; they could not help him. 

Then, in a mighty wrath, he too went home, and desperately resolved tohave it out with the Thornton girl, one way or the other; but not "theother" if Daisy could be brought to terms. 

It was easy travelling where the way was all prepared. So a lovelymoonlight evening found him in Squire Thornton's parlor. In a fewmoments there floated down to him from the invisible upper regions acloud of blue muslin, and the laughing face of Daisy Merrifield wasbefore him. 

"Oh, Daisy, what a surprise! and how sweet you are!" as impulsively hestrained her to his heart. "What joy to find you here!"

"Don't crush my dress, " she said, righting up the ruffles; "it's new. Yes, I am here. Didn't you come to see me?"

"No--that is--I came to see Miss Thornton, " and his face fell. 

"There is no Miss Thornton, " she said, her dimples playingmischievously. "It is only _I_--_now_ don't you know?"

"But how is it? I was told--I understood--"

"Pshaw! you stupid!" she said, with a bewitching pout, "if you had beena little more civil, you would have known that I am Mrs. Thornton'sdaughter--not Mr. Thornton's; that mamma is mamma, but papa isn't papa, and--"

But in an ecstacy of surprise and joy the rest of her sentence wasentirely smothered. 

"And you knew from the first?" he asked, reproachfully. 

"Not from the first, but almost. They were all in the plot. I meant tosnub you outright, only--well, somehow you didn't look as horrid as youreally were! The 'John Smith' was almost too much for me, but I stoodit. Then when the letter came--it was well for you I had seen you underthe tree. So you wouldn't marry the heiress, " she said, archly. "I didmy very best to teach you a lesson, young man. Have you learned it?"

The answer was fervently though silently given the merry, rosy, smilinglips. 

Treesa

A CHARACTER SKETCH

They called her Treesa. She was not young. That she had ever been washard to realize. Whatever her childhood, and however the years hadbrought her up to woman's estate, there was no footprint upon the wornface of the gladsome time we call youth. No light in the eye of otherand happier days. No echo in the quiet heart, of bounding pulses, orever a sweet enthusiasm. The treadmill of duty in life's most trivialtask, enthralled her every faculty. Her daily round was in a largehotel--an arena of toil circumscribed by four brick walls. Her domainwas the parlor floor; that sacred area of rosy vistas and costly suites, where she was as proud to tread as a king in his royal glory. Wherebeauty and fashion made for her a panorama of short glimpses amid pausesof broom and duster. 

The maids on the other floors might earn the wage just as honorably;Treesa permitted no trespass upon her exalted territory. The bridalchambers, the private sitting rooms, the luxurious sleepingapartments--these were her pride and her joy. The Excelsior had areputation, national and international. Princes and potentates hadslumbered in Treesa's chambers. The "nobility and the gentry" had beenfeted there. Year after year her pale eyes had watched over the welfareof distinguished visitors, American and foreign. They had seen the helpcome and go; she was still the "girl of the parlor floor. " Discreet, silent, honest, they might well allow her a share of caprice. "Cranky"they called her, yet no one found fault. She neglected no duty. The ladymanager of the interior was not always the same. She changed from timeto time; Treesa was always the same, and always there. At length therecame a dainty little woman, full of native pluck, who was born to rule, and rule she did, to the limit of her jurisdiction. Though so far apart, a kindred chord was struck between mistress and maid. The high spiritthat smouldered in these two never crossed; but with the smallesttangible demonstration they were fast friends. The girl's horizon nowbordered a triune interest;--the church, the mistress, and the parlorfloor. Gaunt and spare, she trod her beat. Shy of manner, with eyeslooking nowhere, she seemed a human machine of the broom. A womanwithout kith or kin, without a history, and apparently without a memory. Never sick, never absent, never a letter from friends, never a visitaway. The old habitues of the house liked her. She gave no sign of favoror disfavor, till at last it was their way to respect her and leave heralone. But whenever a mission of trust was needed Treesa was the onecalled upon. 

But as the calmest stream is ruffled at some time on its course, sothere comes to every human life a shock that upturns hidden forces. Andthis came to Treesa. It was when she was one day summoned to the privateoffice downstairs: that dread tribunal for the wrongdoers of the largehousehold--a locality as little heeded by the girl as any other foreignplace, albeit there had been new and strange proprietors as the yearswent by. Without so much as a ripple of excitement upon her homelyfeatures, she came down and stood within the door, respectfully awaitingorders. The two arbiters of her destiny were in close conference uponways and means. Expense must be cut down. There must be a weeding out. Raising his head and looking in some curiosity at the queer apparition, the new partner said: "Are you Teresa O'Toole?"

"Me name is that same, sir, " she said, meeting the eyes. "An' what thin, sir?" she added, as for a moment he was silent. 

"Yes--ah--" he went on, this time not exactly confronting the expectantface--"We've been thinking, Teresa--we were just saying--that you aregetting along in years now, and--ah--the fact is, we think you ought tohave a rest. Some one younger, and stronger, ought to relieve you, andgive you a chance to pick up. You are a good girl, " with encouragingjustice, "a very good girl, and have been faithful and honest. But we--"he hesitated, as Treesa's lean face suddenly darkened with an unwontedflush. Then she broke out:

"An' is it me dischairge ye'd be afther givin' me, sir?"

"Well, yes, about that, it amounts to that, I suppose, " admitted thegreat man. "You see, my good woman, " he ventured softly, noting thebreakers ahead, "the fact is--"

"Well, thin, " she burst forth in righteous wrath, placing her hard, redarms akimbo, and struggling to loose her tongue, "I'll be afther tellin'yees, I'll not take a dischairge from yees, sir! It's here I've beenthis fifty year, an' more. I was the first gurll in the house, for sureI come before the likes of yees was born an' before yees iver darkenedthe doors. It's no fault can be found with me. I'll stay right here!"and turning, she went out. 

There was silence in the office. Then the senior partner, his eyetwinkling, spoke:

"What are we going to do about it?"

"Why, nothing", drily said the other, "nothing, I suppose; you heardwhat she said, I presume she will stay on. "

And stay on she did, her one dominant idea as fixed as the polar star. As the years rolled by she might have rested from her labors, but forthis sense of devotion to duty. Even a monthly pittance will countthrough the ages; so Treesa's savings came at last to foot up into thethousands. Not even good Father Clement could have told the amount, orwhere she kept it. Like herself, it was a mystery. She continued tohoard and to hide, with no misgiving of loss by thief, or by accident;with no forewarning of danger. Yet dire calamity was impending. 

It was past midnight when the veteran chambermaid was awakened by thesound of crackling wood and the smell of stifling smoke. To spring outof bed was the work of a moment, the aged limbs obedient to her call;then all her faculties alert, she thrust her hand into a hidden recessof the mattress, and clutching a bulky package from its depths, made herway out into the corridor, where the smoke was still thicker, on downthe stairs from the servants' dormitory to the floor below. Staggeringto the manager's door she pounded with all her strength till thosewithin were aroused; and dizzy from fright and half-suffocation, sheran to the fire alarm, banging the gong till doors flew open right andleft, and the halls were alive with people. The cry of "Fire!" on allsides now added to the din. More alarms were turned in till ample helpwas at hand. While the hotel manager's orders were being obeyed, and theguests were deserting their rooms for greater safety in the lobby below, Treesa was struggling to get back to the servant's floor, whence nowissued screams of terror, as, for the first time, the flames were seencreeping in close proximity to the maid's quarters. In vain the firemen, who were now cutting holes in the floor to insert the hose, tried tointercept her. Bent upon serving her fellow-servants, she disappearedthrough the blinding smoke Crawling flat upon her face up the stairsto avoid the onset of the fumes, the girl reached the glass door thatimprisoned the terrified creatures, burst it through with one powerfulblow, and forced them out upon the fire escape, where now, too, thefiremen's ladders were seen manned by the helmeted brigade. All bruisedand bleeding from the splintered glass, and still clutching fast therescued package, Treesa turned to retrace her steps, her only thoughtnow being to save the parlor floor and its treasures. Again she eludedthose who would have guarded her from danger, and made a hurried dashfor the stairway, when a sudden rush of flame, now fanned by the air, blinded her, and she fell to the landing, dropping the bulk of herholdings, where the fire greedily licked it to destruction. 

Tender hands lifted her and conveyed her, crushed and unconscious, toa temporary couch, where it was found, when the surgeon came, that herhip was dislocated. To the mistress alone would she unloose what herbleeding hand still held, as she whispered, "Put it away, safe--Massesfor me soul--Father Clement. "

But Treesa did not die. The morning papers rang with her heroism, butnone then knew that she had lost the hoarded earnings of a life-time;that the one package saved represented but a small proportion of hertreasure. She was taken to a hospital, and, fortunately for her peaceof mind, the house was closed for repairs. During the weeks of building, the old bones were mending. The sufferer counted the days with jealouswatching. When an agony of fear seized upon her lest she might never goback, only the mistress or the kindly priest had power to quiet her, Shewas promised over and over again that she should not be supplanted. 

When the hotel opened anew, the daily press blazoned to the world thefact, giving a personal paragraph to the officials, and including alist of well-known names, among them the humble one of Teresa O'Toole, who had been a chambermaid there during sixty years. This scrap of paperwas held fast in the horny fingers, and seemed to the fevered senses tokeep alive the link between her and the only home she knew. 

Hither she was borne at last to a small room that was to be herportion and her pension forevermore. Her old quarters, austere and cleanand bare, had been effaced by the carpenter's hammer, and this cornerretreat had been partitioned from a domestic recess in the rear. Butit was on the parlor floor, that fetich of a devoted life. Crippledand useless, Treesa was an object of unobtrusive care. She kept hershrunken savings about her person, more unwilling than ever to trustthe unexplored fields of finance. She grew querulous. She must begetting to her work again. Would the mistress be after letting her earnsomething--on the parlor floor, she tremulously added. Smiling sadly, permission was granted. Fondly the old creature took up her broom andduster--bought anew for her--and limped painfully toward the belovedrooms--the bridal chambers--the choicest suites where beauty and fashioncame. What a journey now! The grand parlors and long corridors wereinterminable vistas of elegance and luxury. And--ah! what was thatclinging to the velvet carpet pile? A bit of paper carelessly let fall?And--yes, was there dust on the polished marble of yon table? Alas! thather dim eyes should live to behold the desecration. What shiftlesswretch was doing the parlor floor, and she a useless block in her room!

The shock told. She staggered to a gorgeous sofa near the offending bitof rubbish, and sunk down in the act of reaching for it. This was thebeginning of the end. Lying on her bed sleep deserted the fading eyes. An attendant was provided, who grew accustomed to mutterings she couldnot understand. She ceased to listen. In pity the mistress came oftenand sat beside the couch. She listened and understood. She gathered thelast wishes of the dying, and received as a sacred charge all that thesufferer had to leave. Still the angel of death tarried, until sweetpeace shed a radiance over the departing soul, whose faith was steadfastto church and heaven. 

At the first faint ray of dawn the mistress arose and went to her. Thebed was empty, the nurse asleep. Following the instinct of the moment, the lady hastened along the quiet corridors to where the night tapershowed the still form of the devoted veteran stretched out on the thick, soft carpet, her cold fingers clasping the new broom and duster. 

My First Jury Case

THE DOG WITNESS

The court-house was crowded to its utmost capacity. Women as well as menwere there to hear the arguments in the case of the Commonwealth againstWilliam Grant for the alleged murder of John Belt. 

Grant was a young man of handsome exterior and pleasing manners. He satin the prisoner's box, and near him, closely veiled, was his beautifulgirlish wife, with her arm around a fine, manly boy, and her head bowedupon his sunny curls. 

Near the group were the surviving relatives of the dead man, consistingof the wife, mother and daughter. Their faces were heavy and stolid, andtheir whole appearance indicated not only the lower walks of life, butthe existence of evil passions and aggressive natures. 

Belt had owned a small grocery some fifteen miles from town, in a wildglen at the mouth of a shallow stream that flowed into the Kentuckyriver. The region was for a long time sparsely settled; but theestablishing of a government distillery and a railroad station had ledto an increase of population, so that young Grant was induced to locatethere and open a shop for provisions and other supplies, that line ofbusiness having been the one chosen from his boyhood. 

From the first Belt, who was one of the few German settlers in that partof the country, resented what he was pleased to call an encroachmentupon his trade, and lost no opportunity of showing his ill-feeling. Hewas a heavy-set, sullen man of about forty-five years of age, and showeda dogged spirit even to his customers. In vain Grant strove, first topay no attention to his enmity, and afterward to conciliate him. Hecontinued obstinate, and his family were not behind him in givinginsults and slights. 

Time passed, and Grant prospered. He was obliging and agreeable, andpeople naturally patronized his store, which he rendered as attractiveas his means and good taste would allow. His wife, too, charmed thecommunity by her simple, sweet ways; and motherly old ladies tookspecial interest in her and her babe. 

Grant built a neat cottage, and this gave fresh offense. At last Belt, who was a drinking man as well as surly, swore that he would takeGrant's life if the latter persisted in remaining there. His trade wasfalling off, and Grant was the cause. Matters reached a climax then, and Grant armed himself in case of a surprise. 

One morning Belt was missing, and his family raised a hue and cry thatspeedily brought a crowd about the house, just as Grant approached andmade the startling announcement that he had shot at a man the nightbefore, and was ready for such investigation as would be proper underthe circumstances. He stated that he had been aroused by a filing, grating sound at his bedroom window, which was on the ground floor, andthat he sprang from his bed, threw open the front door, and fired upona figure that retreated rapidly and was soon lost in the darkness. 

Upon this Grant was held in custody, while a party of men went in searchof Belt. Hours were spent in vain, when it was suggested that Belt'sdog, a vicious mongrel-cur, should be put upon the trail. Accordinglythe dog, which was usually seen at Belt's heels, was given the scent ofhis master's coat, and started rapidly down the road, his nose to theground. The testimony as elicited at the trial showed that the brute hadbounded along to the Grant cottage, leaped upon the window sill, sniffedeagerly about the spot, then ran down the path to a clump of bushes onthe river cliff. Here the creature stopped and set up a piteous howl. The pursuing party hastened to the spot, and there lay the body of Belt, who had fallen and died, as the autopsy revealed, of internal hemorrhageproduced by a pistol shot. As if to corroborate Grant's statement, achisel and a pistol were found in the grass under the window of hisbedroom. 

Such was the history of the case. The absence of any testimony in behalfof the prisoner beyond his own assertion, was painfully evident. Hiswife supported him in the facts, but the law did not permit a wife totestify in the husband's case, so this evidence was unavailable. 

The natural sympathy which death awakens in the human breast, especially a tragic one, had done its work even in the case of sounpopular a man as Belt, and already he was considered a martyr. The desperate lamentations and impoverished condition of his familyasserted their claims, and the time of trial found public opiniongreatly divided. The spark of envy in every community which had laindormant as long as the Grants were novelties, sprung into life at theirunwonted prosperity, and the gaily painted store and fanciful cottagebecame eyesores to more than one. Various rumors, like uncanny spiritsof air, floated about till the prisoner felt himself sinking into anabyss. Once down, there seemed no power ready to lift him up. 

He employed several distinguished attorneys as counsel, and I, astruggling young lawyer, whose ambition was to be worthy the mantle ofan illustrious father, was also retained. There was something about thecase that inspired me to the utmost of which I was capable. There was nocircumstantial evidence against the prisoner. He had frankly owned toshooting the man. The issue rested upon his motive for the deed. Whatwas the provocation? True, Belt may have threatened his life; but Beltwas a drunkard, and who attached any importance to his words?

The prosecution endeavored to show that Grant, wearied with the enmityof Belt, and wishing to be rid of him, had enticed him away on the nightof the killing, and shot him in cold blood. True, a chisel and pistolhad been found, but how easy for the prisoner to have placed themthere to carry out his plans! The dead man was proved to be a harmlesscharacter, though of intemperate habits and rough ways. His antipathy toGrant was only natural, since the latter had, by ingratiating manners, flashy advertising dodges, and a few modern tricks of trade, ruined thebusiness of the old-fashioned, plain-sailing German. 

In the hands of such skillful manipulators the case grew blacker andblacker, and the face of my client reflected the anguish he saw hiswife enduring, and he powerless to comfort. He saw his beautiful, idolized boy the son of a convict, and all that had made life worth theliving shattered to the dust. Closer and closer the meshes were weavingabout him. The jurors sat with fixed gaze as one by one the speecheswere ended. At length the honorable counsel for the prosecutionconcluded a powerful argument, and I saw in the faces of the twelvemen that it had told. 

There was but one point left for me to make, and I wondered that mydistinguished brethren had passed it by. They had dwelt upon the youthand good standing of the prisoner, and the uncalled-for persecution hehad suffered. They pictured in graphic words the midnight attempt uponhis life at his own house. A man's house is his castle, and he has thesupreme right to defend both it and himself. They appealed to thesympathies of the jurors in behalf of the young, helpless wife andinnocent child. Still there was wanting the one link in the chain ofpositive evidence. Sympathy was well enough. The twelve sworn menrequired proof. How was it to be shown them?

I was young, and I felt all the nervousness attendant upon a maideneffort, but my heart was in the work and I launched forth. Nature hadgiven me a good voice, and I felt a certain power as I spoke. ButI had not the egotism to suppose that I could compete with the learnedgentlemen who had preceded me unless I could make a decided hit insumming up the testimony. This I did. When I came to the hithertounnoticed dog, I dwelt there with a tenacity that was determined toconvince. I portrayed the well-known fidelity of the dog. No matter whatthe master, whether fortune's pampered darling, or a beastly denizen ofthe gutter, his dog was always his friend. Be he kind and gentle, orcruel and pitiless, still his dog crouches in loving submission. And theanimal, whether a high-bred, glossy-coated favorite, with golden collarand silken leash, for whom hundreds had been paid, or an ill-favored, ungainly brute picked up from nowhere and as thankful for a kick as fora crust, was loyal with a fidelity that puts to shame man's boastedfriendship. 

This man's dog had loved him. Drunk or sober, kind or cruel, his dog wasnot content out of his presence. Why was he not with the man on thisfatal night? Because Belt had chained him in order to follow out hisvengeance untraced. The master knew the sagacity of his dog. He wantedno companion on his midnight stroll. And when, restless and uneasy, thedog was let loose and shown the garment of his master, what did he do?He dashed away, nose to earth, in eager, loving pursuit, along theroad to Grant's cottage. There he sniffs the ground, where undoubtedlythe familiar scent lay, jumps upon the window-ledge with his fore paws, whimpers, starts away, and follows the trail down the path to thebeloved body now cold in death. 

What proof more convincing than that Belt had been there? How improbablethe trumped-up story that Grant could decoy from his home his bitterestenemy, especially at the midnight hour! A loaded pistol and a chiselwere found under the window. It had been alleged that Grant placed themthere for his own base purposes. But admitting that man could deceive, the dog would not. Canine instinct could not lie. Every man who knew thenature of the animal must feel convinced that Belt's dog would neverhave gone to that window except in honest pursuit of his master. 

I felt that my speech had told, and as I sat down there was a stir inthe vast crowd. My client's face was flushed, and the wife's somber veilwas thrown back, revealing her large eyes lustrous with hope. 

The Commonwealth's attorney occupied the floor for an hour, during whichhe ridiculed what he termed the schoolboy tales from his youthfulopponent. But when the jury retired I felt that my influence was stilluppermost. The suspense was trying, but it did not last long. Theyreported in a very short time, and the verdict, announced in a clearringing voice, was "Not guilty!"

Grant sprang forward as his friends pressed near and seized my hand ina vise-like grip. Loud cheers rent the air, for again the fickle publichad veered around, the crowd surged to and fro, women wept, and thefervent "Thank God!" that broke from the pallid lips of the young wiferang in my ears for many a day. 

The foreman of the jury, a plain, intelligent farmer, drew me aside andsaid, "That dog done the business! There was no gittin' around that!I've got a dog myself. "

Grant was forced to begin life anew, for his counsels' fees aboutconsumed his little savings, but he remained at his post honest andindustrious, and is one of the leading men in the now populous section. 

Three Visits

A ROMANTIC SKETCH

The day was warm and sunny. A few industrious and enterprising pioneerswere seated on a log near the Wallace Cross Roads, in what is nowGarrard county, Ky. They were enjoying their noonday luncheon anddiscussing the object of their woodland caucus. Suddenly the sound of anadvancing horse arrested their attention. Pausing and looking toward aprimitive opening in the deep-tangled wildwood, they soon saw both horseand rider approaching, the latter looking about him as if a stranger tothe country. He was among them in another moment, receiving their roughbut hearty greetings, and manifesting genuine pleasure in his frank, youthful countenance. Though not yet attained to full manhood, thetraveller's figure was tall and graceful, and his face, by no meanshandsome, wore a genial glow that intensified the wonderful magnetismof his manner. 

"You seem to be a stranger in these parts, " said one of the men, moppinghis forehead with his red bandana. 

"Yes, " answered the traveller. "I am a few days out from home across themountains yonder. Can you direct me to Lexington?"

"Easy, easy, sir, " said the other, "It's a good spell from this, butthere's a pretty fair road after you get out of these thickets. Sitdown, sir; sit down and have a snack with us. You must be hungry, andyou won't find a tavern soon. "

Nothing loth, the young stranger addressed himself to the cold cornbread and bacon with a will, while the talk veered around to thebusiness of the day. 

"You, see, sir, we are about to build a courthouse hereabouts, and haveour lawing to ourselves, " said the first speaker. "We've about decidedto plant the corner stone at the Cross Roads a little way from this. "

"It's a first rate location, " said another. "There's good water allaround and plenty of trees for lumber. "

"Nothing like making the right start, " added a third voice. 

They continued to discuss plans for their future township, the strangerentering with courteous interest into all their projects. 

"I have often tried, " said he, "to look into the future of this grandsection of country. To the day when the spirit of internal improvementshall have levelled the roads and converted the hidden wealth of thesoil into a glorious medium of happiness and prosperity. Then the mentalstores of our hardy settlers will rapidly develop, and civilization willprune down the rugged points of character, as the implements of thehusbandman break up the clods. "

Rapt visions illumined the young speaker's features with a glow ofnational pride, and he saw not the looks of intelligent curiosity thatpassed among his companions. 

Then starting up, he said, "I must really be going. I have a long ride, and the day is waning. I thank you heartily for your hospitality. I assure you it is as refreshing as it was unexpected. "

They shook hands, and the stranger mounted his horse which was quietlygrazing near by. Catching up the bridle, he said: "One of these days Ihope to visit your section again, and see the great results of which youare now making the small beginning. Farewell. "

"One moment, " said the man who had first greeted him; "might I ask yourname, if it's not going too far?"

"Not at all, sir, not at all. My name is Henry Clay. "

For a few minutes after the departure of the young stranger, the smallknot of pioneers commented with admiring wonder upon his singularlyfascinating address, and saying, "That man will make his mark in theworld, " they proceeded to refresh themselves at a cool spring, and thenprepared to finish the survey. 

 * * * * *

Years after, the little town of Lancaster, which had grown from thehumble courthouse of the Cross Roads, was in a state of excitement suchas only villages are liable to experience. It was the occasion of aschool examination, and the citizens were all more or less interested. At the appointed hour the house was full, and the classes weremarshalled in due order to the front. Four o'clock struck, and theprogramme was drawing to a close, when one of the dignitaries of thetown entered the hall, accompanied by a tall, distinguished-lookingstranger, whose presence inspired the children with a certain sense ofawe. It was at once whispered about that the great statesman, HenryClay, was among them. Upon presenting him to the teacher, the schoolrose, and chairs being provided, the exercises went on. When the timecame for making recitations, the young people exhibited marked signsof embarrassment; but one by one they acquitted themselves creditably. At length a little blue-eyed, sunny-haired child ascended the platformand recited "The Old Oaken Bucket, " with wonderful pathos, so accuratewas her enunciation, so impressive the varying cadences of her sweetvoice. 

"Who is she?" I inquired the great man when the storm of applause hadsomewhat subsided. 

"We call her 'Daisy of the Glen, '" was the reply. "She is a prodigy forher age. Her history is a little singular. She was found not far fromhere in a wild glen, or ravine, when about three years old, and hasnever been able to tell who or where her parents are. But I will relatethe circumstances to you at another time. At present the trustees arepressing in their invitation to you to say something to the children. "

Whereupon the grandest orator of his day arose and addressed a fewremarks in simple language to his youthful audience. He told them of theday, when on the highway from Virginia into the Blue Grass region, herode into their woodland council on the rugged spot where their prettylittle village now stood. And as their forefathers had cultivated thethen dense wilderness, so he admonished them to study and improve theirminds in school. Great men and noted women had already sprung into famefrom their young city, and many a glorious achievement of word, of pen, and of sword, had given renown to the place whose birth he hadincidentally witnessed in the long ago. 

When he ceased speaking he had implanted the germ of honest ambition inthe hearts of many of the little men and women whose future influencewas to wield power for good or ill. That night, seated among friendsin the best room the little tavern afforded, Henry Clay learned furtherparticulars concerning wee, winsome Daisy of the Glen, whose appearanceand address had so charmed his fancy. She was evidently a stolen child. Her dress, when she was discovered by a hunter, was fine, and her wholeappearance indicative of an easy sphere of life. It was supposed that aband of gypsies had decoyed her away while carelessly straying too farfrom her home, but nothing definite was known. Mrs. Templeton, a kind, motherly woman, without children, had cheerfully given the littlestranger shelter, and had in time grown so fond of her that she couldnot bear the thought of parting. Hence, after the first unsuccessfuleffort, no further attempt had been made to discover the parentage ofthe little waif. She called herself Daisy, in her lisping fashion, andher lovely disposition had won for her the poetical title of "Daisy ofthe Glen. "

Mr. Clay listened earnestly, and when about to leave, he depositeda sum of money for the benefit of the little girl's education. 

 * * * * *

Ten years after, two figures sat in earnest conversation on the verdantcliff of a romantic ravine leading from the banks of Dix river. The one, a young girl of remarkably fair exterior, turned in an animated mannerto impress some assertion upon her companion. The other, a youth soexceedingly handsome in face and figure, so lithe of person and eloquentof speech, that no girl of eighteen could long resist his attractions. 

"Indeed, Roye, I knew it must be he and no other. He made an impressionupon my memory when a little child of eight years, that can never beeffaced. Who else would be so likely to interest himself in my fate?"

"Indeed, Daisy, " he echoed, "who is disposed to doubt the truth of yoursurmises? You are probably correct, yet on the other hand, what proofhave you that Mr. Clay is your unknown benefactor?"

"None at all except the fact that he honored me so far on that memorablevisit to the school, as to inquire all about me. More than that he cameto the house and asked me a number of questions about my infancy. Without his help I could never have gone away to complete my educationor possessed any accomplishments. Poor mamma always thought the moneycame from him, and almost her last injunction to me, was to hold him inprofound veneration as long as I live. "

"And it was here they found my little wanderer, " fondly exclaimed RoyeHoward. "I should never, probably, have known true happiness but for thevagabond who stole my Daisy!"

The girl's face clouded for a moment. 

"Are you willing, Roye, to take me with this mystery hanging over me? Ifthere is nothing hid that shall not be revealed, how do we know at whatmoment some revelation may come upon us that will dash our hopes to theearth?"

"Never, never!" impetuously replied the youth. "Nature cannot so belieherself as to make a blot or stain possible to her fairest creation. "

Blushing beneath his admiring gaze, and thrilling with pleasure at hiswords, Daisy proceeded to repeat all that she had ever remembered of herhome and parents. A large house, a doll as big as herself, and a tenderface bending above her, comprised her store of reminiscences. Since thedeath of her foster mother she had remained with friends, and was soonto be united in marriage to Roye Howard, a rising young lawyer, rearedin Lexington, and established at Lancaster only a few months. 

Talking confidingly of their promised happiness, the pair lingered amongthe sylvan shades of the romantic spot till the waning sunlight benttheir steps homeward. 

Next day was the regular County Court day in the village. The publicsquare was crowded with vehicles, live stock, and countrymen whose chiefpleasure was to mix in motley crowds, and to whose fancy an uproar ofsome kind was ever welcome. On such occasions, in the somewhat laxadministering of justice of those early times, the killing of a fellowcreature seemed indeed a trifle light as air. 

At a conspicuous corner of Danville street stood the house whereDaisy Templeton had found a temporary home. A number of ladies, wivesof the Judge and various lawyers, had assembled here to dine, a customprevalent upon public occasions. The group were deeply engrossed inneedle-work and cheerful conversation, when suddenly the crowds on thesquare began surging and clamoring as though the turbulence of an angrysea had been turned loose upon a peaceful plain, Shouts rose higher andhigher, till at last a pistol shot resounded, and the ladies that hadcrowded to the front windows plainly distinguished the cry, "The Judgeis killed! Jim Burns has shot Judge Pierce!" and the mob rushed towardthe mouth of Danville street in pursuit of the desperado, a notedcharacter of the county. 

Quickly passing out the back door of the parlor and closing it behindher, Daisy reached the side door, opening on Danville street and heavilyshaded with trees, and flung the door to just as a man, pale andterrified, darted in, almost throwing her to the floor. 

"Save me!" was all he had breath to ejaculate. 

"Up there!" she hurriedly exclaimed, pointing up the stairway toward theattic; then slamming the door against the mob who were pressing upon thesteps, she turned the key in the lock and stood, awaiting she knew notwhat. All this was the work of a moment, while the ladies in the parlorwere too intent upon watching the square for a glimpse of the Judge toknow that so important a scene was being enacted just behind them. Mrs. Pierce had run down the front steps inquiring of every one if the reportwas true. 

Meanwhile, as Daisy stood silent and alone in the little passage, herheart throbbing fast, the crowd outside beat upon the door and clamoredfor Jim Burns. At this moment Stanley Livingstone, the young man ofthe house, appeared from a bed-room in the rear where he had beenadministering a dose of sleep to a severe headache, and asked with moreemphasis than grace. 

"What the devil's broke loose?"

She dared not tell him the truth. 

"Oh, Stanley, " exclaimed she, much relieved, "they are after Jim Burns. They think he is here and are determined to force their way in. They sayhe has killed Judge Pierce!"

"Let me settle them, " said Stanley, and throwing wide the door, heassured them that Burns was not there--that he would certainly have seenthe man if he had entered the house. 

Incredulous, but irresistibly impressed by his earnest words, theyretired to the opposite side of the street to watch for their prey, who, they convinced themselves, had darted through the house and concealedhimself about the premises too quickly to be detected by the inmates. That the fugitive had disappeared at that side door, some of them knewbeyond question. 

As Stanley stepped out to learn exactly what the excitement meant, Daisyagain turned the key, and observing a stain of blood on her white dress, she dared not re-enter the parlor with the tell-tale sign. 

Hurrying up the stairs, she filled a basin with water, and with a rollof linen, proceeded quickly to the attic, where the man stood, leaningagainst a packing-box, tightly clasping his hand. 

"You are wounded somewhere?" she asked. 

"Yes, in the hand, " he faintly answered. "He shot me. "

"Who?" asked the girl. 

"The Judge, " sullenly said Burns. 

"Then you didn't kill him?"

"Kill him! I wish I had!"

Going to a back window, Daisy signed to a servant to come up, but whenthere, the frightened creature refused to touch the bloody hand. SoDaisy proceeded to bathe and dress the lacerated flesh, all the whiletalking kindly and warningly to the man, who stared at the lovely visionwith something like shame in his face. 

As she started to leave him, a stone sped its way swiftly through thewindow and fell at her feet. 

"You see, " said she, "your life is not safe a moment where you are. They believe that you are here. Some one saw you enter the door. Remain perfectly quiet till nightfall and then go home a wiser anda better man. "

"God bless you, miss!" said the man brokenly. "I have been very wickedall my life. I have wronged many, and you more than all; but if my lifeis spared, I'll make some things right. "

Wondering at his words, Daisy left him and rejoined her friends, afterthe brief absence which was destined to bear rich fruits to her orphanedheart. 

That night, under cover of the darkness, the man went away. But at teno'clock, in defiance of prudence, he came back, knocked boldly, andasked to see Miss Templeton--he had a package for her. She came, andplacing something in her hand, abruptly left, mounted his horse, androde away in a fierce gallop, ere she could speak, and again Daisyclosed the door upon this thread of her romantic destiny. 

On opening the package she found a coral necklace and armlets, withclasps engraved, and a soiled, miserably-scrawled letter. The initialson the jewels were R. M. The letter told her that he, the desperate andoutlawed writer, had been leagued with a band of reckless men some yearsago, and had stolen her away from her beautiful home in Louisville, thinking to obtain a heavy ransom. While passing through Garrard county, he, the man to whose care the gang had confided her, because he wassort o' womanish, they said, had lagged behind intent upon a bottle ofwhisky, and when he recovered his senses, the child was gone. Fearingthat she had met her death, and knowing nothing then of the picnic partythat had rescued her, he fled the country for some years, and after hisreturn he had never had courage to confess his crime. Her parents werewealthy, and their name was Mentelle. He could tell her nothing of theirpresent whereabouts. 

 * * * * *

New Year's Eve comes in cold, and a deep snow envelops the earth. A wedding party at the corner house on Danville street is the eventof the evening. Roye Howard and Daisy Mentelle have just taken theirmarriage vows, and the house is crowded with guests. Just before suppera new arrival startles and astonishes the brilliant company. Henry Clay, grown grey with years and honors, is among them, never having lost sightof his protege. After congratulating the pair and kissing the bride, he bade her come with him to another apartment; and when she hadwonderingly obeyed, he proudly presented to her a handsome lady richlydressed in mourning. 

"This, my dear, is your mother. I have not rested till I found her. "

"It is she--it is she, indeed, " exclaimed the noble-looking woman--"myown little Ray--my Daisy!" and the mother clasped her newfound darlingto her breast in a passion of thankfulness and joy. 

"This is my bridal present, my dear, " said the statesman, after much hadbeen told, and Roye admitted to the circle. 

"Since your letter of inquiry to me, my search has been constant. Yourfather is no more, but this boon is the greatest of all. Receive herwith my blessing. Three times have I passed through your town. Alwayshas it held a warm place in my heart. May every succeeding twelve monthsbring to you as happy a New Year!"

An Easter Dawn

"AND THERE WAS LIGHT"

"Are you inflexible, Doris? Can nothing alter your decision?"

"Spare us both further pain, Warner. I cannot leave my blind mother. Itis useless to ask it. "

"And do I ask it? You can still care for your mother. I do not ask youto leave her. "

The girl shook her head sadly. 

"As a wife I must go with my husband. In the conflict of duties themother must yield. No, no, it would be cruel. "

"Even admitting this, is there not a way out of it? Will she not try tohave her sight restored? Once relieved she might depend upon others, andbe content without you. Then you could come to me. "

"I dare not urge this. Think what she endured before--the operation, themismanagement, the suffering, and the final loss of the eye itself. Oh, Warner, the recollection of that terrible time makes me shudder. I praythat she may forget it. I dare not urge another trial. Spare me that. "

There was silence in the room, broken only by the ticking of the littlemantle clock, till in a low suppressed voice she continued:

"And you know the awful blow that came so soon after, that has brokenher down. She clings to me in so many ways. No, Warner, she might yieldto my persuasions, but I should never forgive myself if things wentwrong. "

"Wrong?" echoed the man, bitter pain tugging at his heart. "How muchmore wrong could things go? But it is nothing to you that my life ismade desolate, that loving you through all its best years I must quietlygive you up, and that, too, when I am in condition to take care of you. Have I shown no consideration by waiting? Have I ever pressed my claimtill I knew I could make you comfortable and happy? But why do I cringeand beg like this?" he added, setting his teeth hard with the pain ofdisappointment. "If you really loved me you could not quibble about thething you call duty. " And he strode back and forth, refusing to take inthe situation. 

Then the girl's forced composure gave way. This was not her first tiltwith the man she loved, but he had never been so hard, so desperate, sounjust. Heroically she had tried to do her duty. Ignominously she nowfelt herself faltering in the way. 

He could not bear her tears. The sight of her grief drove him fromhimself. Pausing before her, he said:

"Doris, I yield. Let it be as you say. "

And he lifted her hand to his lips in adieu; though in his powerfullyimposed self-restraint he could not be all tenderness. His tones weregentle, and in the look he cast upon her bowed figure there was noreproach. 

He was gone; and Doris went back to the mother who was unconscious thatshe was wrecking the happiness of this devoted child; the only one leftto her. One by one they had married and gone, and now in her darkenedworld she was enduring a more fearful weight of woe than blindness. Ralph, her youngest, and her darling, the Benjamin of her old age, hadfled the country under the awful ban of murder. His employer, a hardman, had been found dead in his private office from a blow on the backof the head. Suspicion pointed to Ralph, who, poor, hot-headed fellow, had been heard to vow vengeance against the dead man for his harshness. A fellow clerk warned him in time to flee from the officers of the law. He could not go without seeing his mother. In the silence of the nighthe had clasped her trembling form in his stalwart young arms, and inbroken, quivering tones, bade her trust in his innocence. "Mother, believe me, only believe me; I did not do it, " and sped on in thedarkness, an exile. She did believe in him. She would almost as soonhave doubted her Savior's love. But her stern, unbending pride of racewas wounded. Her loving heart was pierced in its tenderest spot, and ina few short weeks she was a fretful, peevish invalid, making wholesalebut unconscious draughts upon her noble daughter's patience. 

Five years had gone by since these household fetters had been forged forDoris. Young and lovely, she adorned every circle. Offers of marriagewere unheeded, and her heart was untouched till Warner Douglas, theyoung physician, came. They had met when she was a school girl and hea student in the same town; and now it was revealed to her why he hadchosen her place of residence as the starting point in his career. Sothey had loved and hoped on only to be crushed at last. 

The day after her final rejection of his suit, the post brought a notethat ran thus:

 "Doris, good-bye; not for a day, or a week, but as long as may require to perfect my plans. I have spent a sleepless night, and this is my conclusion. There is one way out of this. Maddening as is your decision, I am forced to yield. But I shall not give you up without a struggle. I have determined to study the human eye as a specialty. The savings I had meant to devote to our united lives shall go to this end. If I do not write often and in lover-like fashion, it will be because I must be firm in my undertaking. When I have mastered the science, I hope to come back to you with healing in my hand for the mother for whose infirmities you sacrifice me. Do not think me bitter; I am trying to be kind. In any case, be my probation long or short, I shall be

 "Ever yours, "WARNER DOUGLAS. "

Long Doris wept heart-breaking tears over this letter. Had she decidedaright? She mused far into the night, and at last her tired spirit foundcomfort in the hope that her lover might one day unlock the prison doorsof both her mother and herself. Next day and for many days she wentabout her duties mechanically, but her blind mother missed nothing, knewnothing. Wearisome vigils were those! Not for a moment could she trusther charge alone. With the perverseness of age she would try to gropeher way about, and more than once had she wandered into danger. Besidesthis active, bodily vigilance, there were papers and books to read toher, and the post-office was fairly haunted by fruitless messages fortidings of the wandering boy. "How long, O Lord, how long?" was theburden of the mother's heart, and upon Doris fell the hopeless taskof comforting. 

Two years dragged their slow lengths. Time and sorrow made little changein Doris Hadyn. The fair, round cheeks had lost none of their bloom, forduty well performed brings its own reward. She was the moving spirit inall good works, and several of her young friends had gradually come toshare her time in amusing and interesting her invalid mother. 

Her lover's departure, leaving his patients to a brother physician, hadbeen a nine-days' wonder, but now all were rejoicing in his success atthe city hospitals. Several wonderful operations had made a great noise, and he awoke one morning to find himself famous. No more anxious carefor the savings he had intended for himself and his bride. They werereturning upon him tenfold. At last he wrote to Doris:

 "Are you waiting for me? I am coming, not for an hour, or for a day, but to cast my lot once more near you. But first I shall come as the physician, since till that mission is ended, I am forbidden to come as a lover. 

 "WARNER. "

Not even the reproach in this laconic letter could tinge her joy. Hewas coming; that was uppermost. He came, and Doris met him as she hadparted--loving and faithful; so proud of him, too, but unalterable inher duty as before. She found his whole nature widened and broadened, just as in appearance he was more manly. He was then a cleverpractitioner: he was now the renowned oculist. From the first day hisoffice swarmed with patients. Old, chronic cases seemed to spring upeverywhere, and he found himself in a fair way of being taxed beyondthe limit. 

Gently he began his ministrations to the mother of his beloved. When hehad won her confidence, he felt that the battle was half fought. Shesoon expressed a willingness to submit to anything, to undergo any pain, if only her sight might be restored. This he could not promise, but hisexperienced eye could detect nothing worse than a cataract obstructingthe vision, and he convinced her that it was worth the trial. 

One mild winter day she was taken to his office now fitted up withall the belongings of his service. With bated breath he adjusted hisinstrument. Heavy portieres shut out the daylight. Steadily the electricray was thrown into the darkened eye. Shrinking with a thousand fears, and tortured with suspense, Doris sank upon a sofa. In silence heapplied his tests. She could hear the beatings of her heart. Softly hequestioned his patient, who hung upon his words for her life sentence. 

At last, lying a hand almost caressingly upon each shoulder, he said:

"My dear Mrs. Hadyn, I think I can give you sight. "

An involuntary cry broke from her lips, and Doris burst into convulsivetears. Then relaxing the tension of these many weary years, the bearerof good tidings folded his arms about the slight form for a moment ashe led her to her mother. Not yet, even, would he give full rein tohis hopes. He might fail. There was inflammation lurking behind theeye-ball, caused by contagion from its fellow, which, when carelesslybandaged too closely, had burst from its socket, irretrievably lost. He could but try; and now his humanity as well as his love nerved himto the task. 

A preliminary course of treatment was ordered, and the Lenten season wasnearly over when the eye was declared ready for the knife. The day wasappointed, and the patient's own room was selected as the place. Thenight before, the doctor came in all worn and tired out from a hurriedcall to a neighboring city hospital. Doris knew his step and met him atthe door. 

"Come with me, Doris, into the library, " he said. 

Nervous with undefined apprehension, she followed him. 

"Can you bear good news?" he asked, bending upon her eyes which held forher the light of loving sympathy. "Will you be as brave as you have beenall these years? I was called away yesterday----"

"Ralph!" she gasped, catching his arm in the excitement of hope. 

"Yes--Ralph, " he said, placing his arm about her; "he is cleared atlast. The man I was called to see was James Green, Ralph's fellow-clerk. He was run down by a heavy furniture van and badly crushed. I could notsave him, but he knew me, and gave me this paper, which is a confessionof his guilt. It completely exonerates your brother. "

"Thank God!" she fervently exclaimed, clasping the paper to her heart. 

"Shall we tell Mrs. Haydn?" he asked, still gravely supporting her. 

"By all means, " was her happy answer through shining tears; "now--thismoment, " leading him away. "Joy does not kill. "

It did not kill; it only braced the grateful sufferer for the ordeal setfor the next day. 

"Find my boy as soon as you can and bring him to me, " was her prayer;and with a sense of comfort long a stranger, the mother slept peacefullyon this, her last night perhaps, of blindness. 

The next day she was made ready for her couch, where she was to lie inperfect quiet after the operation. At two o'clock, Dr. Douglas, with twoyoung assistants, entered easily and cheerfully upon his task. 

"Are you strong enough to witness it?" he asked in alow voice, as Doristook her stand. 

She bowed her head, and the work began. It was neither long nordifficult. A little cocaine in the eye, a quick, perpendicular incision, the deft scooping from the orifice of a hard, pearly ball like an opalsetting, a cleansing of film by one skillful sweep, and all was over. 

"Close the eye for a moment, " was his order, as incomplete silence thetrio hung upon the result. 

"Now open it and look. "

As the lids parted, he held his hand before them, moving his fingers inquick succession. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Well, " he spoke playfully, as to a child; "what is it? I want you totell me. Do you see anything?"

"Yes, I see--a hand, but--it looks blue. "

At this the surgeon clasped his hands in thanksgiving, and exclaimed:"Victory! If you did not see the blue coloring at first, madam, I shouldbe in despair. "

Yes, victory was his, for his skill and for his love. He continued histests, first by resting the eye, then by bringing objects within therange of vision. At last he gently led Doris in full view. 

"It is Doris, my faithful, patient child, whose dear face I have notseen for so long, " she said with emotion that threatened tears, butthis the doctor forbade, and proceeded at once to carefully seal thepatient's eyelids. 

"Keep the room light, and watch her day and night. She must not touchthe eye even in sleep, " was his parting injunction. 

"But, doctor, don't you bandage the eye? And my room was kept dark afterthe other operation was performed. "

"No, madam, the room must be light, and I do not bandage the eye. "

The days went by, each new one revealing some half-forgotten pictureto the patient. She already loved Dr. Douglas as a son, and her bodilyinfirmities, real or fancied, were fast vanishing away. Ralph had beenfound, and a telegram said he was coming. Easter eve was here, and asthe doctor took leave his grateful patient bade him good-night withunusual feeling, "Through you, " she said, "I am made to realize the precious promise, 'Atevening time it shall be light. ' Think what this anniversary must be tome! The morning will celebrate the resurrection of Him who was the Lightof the world. Light, light, everywhere! How can I be thankful enough!"

"To-morrow I will set you free, my dear madam, and if you feel that Ihave done you a service, perhaps I may show you how to repay me. " Andwith a warm pressure of her hand, and an unspoken good-night to Doris, he went away. 

At the dawn of the morning Doris stood beside her mother when she awoke, and said lightly: "Whom do you want to see besides your grumpy oldDoris, this bright morning?"

"Is he here? Ralph--my boy--has he come?" And his fond arms enwrappedher in joy too deep for words. She could not look at him enough--herbronzed and bearded baby boy. 

Later on the doctor called, but he did not at once interrupt the motherand son. When at last he walked into the cheerful family room it waswith Doris by his side. 

"My dear Mrs. Hadyn, " he began, "do you want to make me as grateful asyou say you are? If so, only look!"

With the uncertain timidity she had not yet learned to overcome, shedirected her once sightless eyes toward him. He stood with Doris claspedin his arms. The mother had not heeded his words of the previousevening, for they bore no hidden meaning to her. A light now broke overher features, while Ralph smilingly watched her. 

"Doris, my child, how long have you loved this man?" were the only wordsshe found to say. 

"So long, mother, that I shall not try to remember. "

In the Mammoth Cave

WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY

NOTE--This story is built upon a legend of Mammoth Cave. 

The open mouth of Kentucky's far-famed cavern yawned huge and black. Onthe brow of the hill, ready to descend the winding rock stairway, stooda group of young people picturesquely attired in the bloomer costume ofcave-explorers. They were disputing as to whether to take the long orshort route first, unmindful of the guide, who ventured to hint thattime was slipping away. 

"If we take the long route first we will be too tired for the shortone, " said one. 

"Oh, that will never do!" exclaimed another, "I must see the Chapel andthe Star Chamber. That is about all I came for. "

Apart from the wranglers a pair stood in earnest conversation, hardly inkeeping with the frivolity of the hour. 

She was small, lovely, and winning in gypsy dress of red and black, relieved here and there with soft white ruffles. Upon her golden curlsrested a dainty little padded cap, and strong boots protected the tenderfeet. From her gloved fingers swung a torch not yet lighted. 

The youth beside her showed his hardy pioneer lineage in a well-knitframe and a countenance full of chivalry, and at present glowing witheloquent love for his fair companion. 

Neither of the absorbed pair noticed the angry light in the cruel eyesof a man standing near the guide. He was fully thirty-five years of age, quite tall, and as a merry girl expressed it, brigandish-looking. Butfor the restless passions that marred his bearded face he might havebeen called handsome. He glared at Minnie Dare as a tiger might watchhis prey, for she was indeed the destined prey of this fierce-lookingman. 

By what mysterious power Jason Hammond had won the gentle girl from herdevoted father no one knew, but with haggard face and heart-wrung pain, Colonel Dare had bidden his one ewe lamb prepare for the sacrifice. 

This long-planned excursion was to be the last of freedom for MinnieDare. 

Striding up to the unconscious lovers, the man said rudely, --

"Miss Dare, do you mean to hang about here all day? They are waitingfor you. "

"I presume, sir, Miss Dare has the right to stay where she pleases, "retorted Eldon Brand, a quick, angry flash leaping to his eyes. 

"Hardly, " returned the other superciliously, "at all events she knowsbetter, whatever your view of the matter. "

With a look of appeal from her blue eyes that arrested the sharprejoinder from the lips of the man she loved, the girl turned away, her face suddenly paling from fear. 

"Here comes the pirate chief with his captive, " exclaimed a laughinggirl. 

"Hush, Cornelia; he may hear you--horrid man! He wouldn't be here if hewasn't so rich. "

"Why, where is Eldon Brand?" said another. 

"Over there, cutting a staff from the cane-brake, " replied the firstspeaker. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " here interposed the guide, striking a stageattitude, "if you want my services you must come right along. It isalready too late for the long route; you will have to take the shortone. "

"All right, " agreed the party, rallying their forces, "we'll take theshort one, then. Forward, march!"

Down, down they went in pairs along the circuitous stairway to theentrance, where the thick darkness might be felt. With lighted torchesthey turned from the sunshine and entered upon the pioneer wagon tracksimbedded in the soil for two miles. Hither the early settlers were wontto convey their salt barrels and other stores for safe keeping from thenatives. 

Laughing, talking, jesting, the merry party went in. 

"Jerusalem! What's that?" ejaculated a young fellow, with more vigorthan polish, as he fought right and left an unknown foe. 

"That? Oh, that's only bats flying around. They don't stay in muchfurther. They'll hit you in the face if you don't look out, " explainedthe guide. 

"Yes, I think they will, " said the victim, still spluttering andflourishing his handkerchief. "A little more of that sort of thing andI'll turn back now. "

They soon reached the avenue that leads to the Side Saddle, where morethan one merry lass took a seat for effect. They heard how an explorernamed Goren had once stood idly talking and pecking against the wallwith a sharp stone when, lo! it broke through. He continued to widenthe opening till, upon throwing down a blue light, there stood revealeda perfect dome, exquisitely filagreed. It has been known ever since asGoren's Dome, and a good-sized window, jagging the wall, admits one ortwo lookers at a time. On their knees they crawled through the Valley ofHumility, and out into almost endless space, so varied are the landmarksof this underground miracle. Here is a chamber too vast to be lightedby the torches; there, a defile so narrow as to be passed only in singlefile. Now they traverse a level valley to emerge at the foot of amountainous region that must be attacked with alpenstocks and helpinghands. 

"Oh, look at that awfully dark place! It might be Pluto's hallway, " saida girl. 

"Don't go that way, " called the guide; "you must just follow me. Thereis where that stranger strayed off and was never heard of again. He wasin bad health and came in here to breathe the pure air for a few hours. He never came out. "

"Goodness!" thundered a dozen voices; "let's move on before his ghostappears. I hear the rattle of dry bones now. "

"The Star Chamber!" shouted the guide, who, being in front, had oftenmuch ado to send his voice to the rear of the party. "Ladies andgentlemen, walk in, take your seats, and let me have your torches. "

He was obeyed with much fluttering and chattering. He extinguished allthe lights but his own, and disappeared behind a ledge of shelving rock. They were in total darkness. Gradually a ray of blue, then of red, thenof white light, flashed upon the vast concave roof, showing myriads ofstar-like points resembling the Milky Way, a crescent moon, and finallya comet appearing in full sail. The effect was magical. 

"It is usual to have a song here, if you would like it, " suggested theguide. 

"By all means, " was the universal response. "A chorus! a chorus!"

Then the voices swelled upon the air in a thousand reverberating echoes. At the close the guide reappeared and lit the torches. Once more theysallied forth. 

"Where is Minnie Dare?" suddenly asked a tall girl, whose tongue was toovoluble for the guide's equanimity. 

"Here!" sounded the stentorian voice of Jason Hammond. 

Upon turning back, however, he found not Minnie, but another smallmaiden near him. He darted again into the Star Chamber just as the fleetsteps of Minnie Dare ran toward him. Not, however, in time to preventhis discerning among the shadows Eldon Brand hurrying to her side. 

Catching the girl's tender arm in a vise-like grip, the man hissed inher ear, --

"By Heaven, my girl, if you don't stop philandering in the dark withthat young scoundrel, I'll pitch him into the first pit I see! Youbelong to me, and I'll kill you before another shall have you!"

With a cry of mingled pain and terror the girl broke from him. EldonBrand, who had seen the gesture without hearing the words, sprung withuplifted arm toward the man. Ere he could strike he was seized frombehind by strong arms, and a voice urged, --

"Don't, Brand! For Heaven's sake, let that ruffian alone till we get outof this. You will frighten the ladies, get yourself into the newspapers, and play the deuce generally. Come on--they are calling in front. "

Hammond had seen this little by-play, and would not soon forget it; butat present he strode on after the girl. 

"Why don't you fellows keep up?" grumbled a voice as the delinquentsentered the Chapel. 

"Did anybody fall? I thought I heard a cry back there, " said the tallyoung lady peering suspiciously into the group; but all seemed serenein the fitful torchlight. 

In the Chapel huge stalactites and stalagmites meet each other to formarm-chairs, thrones, alcoves, pulpits, and a double niche conspicuousamong its surroundings. Standing within this niche a restless pairexclaimed:

"What a capital place to be married! Who will pronounce the ceremony?"

"Bless you, my children!" invoked a sober-looking fellow, extendinghis arms in mock solemnity. 

An earnest, significant look flashed from Eldon Brand's eyes into thestill blanched face of Minnie Dare. As they met the glance it bore butone meaning to her, and the rosy color again mantled her cheek. 

"Time's up, " said the guide; "come along. "

It was late ere the party completed the tour of the Short Route wonders, and there was barely time to dress for the ball-room at Cave Hotel, adance being an attractive interlude between journeyings. 

Indoor etiquette forbade the hateful espionage to which Hammond hadsubjected the girl he claimed as his own during the informal jaunt ofthe day. So at ten o'clock, despite the scowl on his dark face, shestood up in the dance with Eldon Brand. 

Perhaps her persecutor might have attuned his wooing to something lessferocious, but soft words having proved futile, he sought to frightenher into compliance. Love's dallying might come later on. He deemed hisprize secure. She could not escape him. He held her father's honor--aye, his very life--in his relentless grasp; for Colonel Dare was not a manwho could survive disgrace. Let her rebel, and the world should hearan ugly story of rash speculation, involving a ward's trust money; offinancial ruin and despair. Oh, yes--she was his, fast and sure. 

It required all her persuasive power to withhold her lover from apersonal attack upon her betrothed husband. 

"It can do no good, Eldon, " she urged; "my father has promised my handto this man. He is somehow in his power. There seems no escape. Oh, thatI might die and be free! It is like a horrible nightmare. "

Then his words came in passionate pleading. Eloquently the tones fellupon her ears. At length the hopeless apathy in her eyes gave placeto interest, then animation, and finally to a degree of agitation butill-concealed from the suspicious watcher. They were standing on a lowbalcony just outside the ballroom. 

"Will you, dearest? Will you be brave for my sake--for our sakes?" wereEldon's parting words. 

"I will try, " she murmured softly, as with a fond pressure of the handhe resigned her to a new partner. 

Early next morning Eldon Brand might have been seen returning froma little wayside shop with a bundle, whose contents--a ball of heavytwine, a can of oil, and a box of matches--would have surprised hisfellow tourists. He conversed earnestly for some minutes with Stephen, the favorite guide of Mammoth Cave, to whom he also conveyed somebank notes; and at eight o'clock he joined the party en route for thenine-mile tramp into the cave. For two miles the way was the same asthat of the short route, bats and all. Then came the immense hall whererude plank seats still attest the worship of pioneer settlers in theland of Indians and wild beasts. Here they sat and sang hymns, whilecountless echoes repeated the sounds. 

They paused in the Ball Room; squeezed through Fat Man's Misery, thatzig-zag passage so narrow and winding that the one behind cannot seehis neighbor a yard ahead; and then out into the ample comfort of GreatRelief. Merrily they filled the little boats and sailed down Echo River, where abound the eyeless fish; crossed Lake Lethe, where all care issaid to be left behind; passed the huge Granite Coffin; stood wonderingbefore the Great Eastern; shuddered beside the Dead Sea and theBottomless Pit; climbed Martha's Vineyard, where huge bunches of grapesin stone looked as natural as life; took lunch in Washington Hall;revelled in the snow-white crystals of Siliman's Avenue; crossed theRocky Mountains to Traveller's Rest, and there wrote their names uponthe extreme wall, that perpetual register of hundreds of sightseers. 

Here some moments were given to recapitulating the marvels of the longroute; the rivers, lakes, hills, ravines and valleys; and above all, another black, yawning chasm similar to that which had startled them onthe short route. 

"Stephen, where does that lead?" was the query. 

"That leads into the one we saw yesterday. We call this end Beersheba, and the other Dan, because it is so much nearer the mouth of the cave. I have explored the whole passage, but it has nothing worth showingvisitors. But I have no doubt there's miles that nobody has ever beenover. It's a big place, I tell you. "

"Didn't you find the dead stranger?" asked the tall girl, who always hadsomething to say. 

"Can't say as I looked for him, miss. "

In high spirits the party retraced their steps as far as the BottomlessPit on the right, and the black chasm Beersheba, on the left, a distanceof about five miles from the entrance to the cave. 

"Take care!" warned the guide; "it is wet and slippery here, and thepath is very narrow. "

They were creeping on in single file when Stephen called back, --

"Mr. Hammond, you look pretty strong--would you help steady thisrailing? It seems a little shaky. "

Hammond came on ahead and stood bracing the bridge, which was one of thevery few man-made structures in the cavern, while the other escorts ledthe girls, one at a time, around the abrupt and slippery ledge. Inconsequence of this stringing out of torches, the light was dim alongthe narrow way, so that even these few steps of advance had left theBottomless Pit in darkness. 

Suddenly there was a rapid, rushing sound in the rear; a whirring echo;a suppressed cry, and a heavy splash far below. The ladies screamed, andthe faces of the men grew pallid with horror. 

"My God! What was it? Who was it?" burst from their lips. 

"Don't go back, gentlemen!" shouted the guide. "It's no use! Come onthis side here--I'll go back. First, see who is missing. If anybody isdown there, the Lord have mercy on him, for man can't help him. "

Soon the trembling, awe-struck party were safe on a platform, and thelights were bunched to their full radiance. Some one cried:

"Minnie Dare is not here!" "And, by Jove, Eldon Brand is not here, either!" said the chorus. Then in a low tone, "Could it have beensuicide? How horrible!"

And this thought was the prevailing one, for the trials of the loverswere well known. 

Jason Hammond ran back precipitately with the guide, and in a sort offrenzy peered far into the awful chasm. Words of blasphemy were on hislips as he began to realize to what end his persecution had driven thefair young creature he had sworn to win. As for Brand, he rejoiced inhis fate. Could it have been an accident? He thought not. 

"No use, " repeated the guide, "I can come back here and bring somebodywho will go down on a rope. But I tell you the bottom of that place hasnever been found yet. We let a young fellow down by a rope last summerin a frolic--his name was Mr. Clarence Prentice--and he pretty sooncalled out to haul him up. Learned folks say a river runs down there, and there ain't any bottom at all. Everything gets swept away with thecurrent. I don't know how it is, I am sure, "

Slowly the terror-stricken company wended their way back to earth, thelight of enjoyment driven from their hearts. The girls gave themselvesup to sobs and tears, and all dreaded to convey the tidings to thebereaved families. 

The men went back with ropes and grappling hooks, but nothing came oftheir labors. The bodies of the hapless lovers were not found, and noneknew how they had gone over the treacherous crag into the abyss below. Surmises were rife, but prudence chose the better part of silentsympathy. The newspapers fairly gloated over the tragedy, and summervisitors were divided between curiosity to look upon the spot and fearlest they, too, might miss their footing; hence the profits of CaveHotel were not noticeably on the decrease. 

Colonel Dare refused to be comforted, unless, indeed, he could rejoiceat the escape of the dove from the eagle's clutches. Now that the girlwas lost to him, Hammond was willing to accept terms before declined;and the Dare ancestral home was at once put upon the market for sale. 

Eldon Brand had no near relatives, but there were many to mourn hisuntimely fate. 

 * * * * *

Some hours after the disappearance of the lovers, Stephen, the guide, re-entered the cave with a large bundle in his arms, and accompanied bya single tourist, a sedate man who was a stranger to the region. Theyproceeded along the short route to the chapel. Adjusting the torches, Stephen gave a low whistle, when from behind a mammoth stalagmite cameforth a young man and a fair maiden, who took their stand in the DoubleNiche. 

Eldon Brand had left nothing undone during his hours of preparation; andwhen the man of God stood before the youthful pair, he held in his handsthe properly authenticated document which was to cement the marriagetie in the civil courts. He had never before officiated at so uniquea bridal, and when once more on terra firma proper, he bore the secretaway to his Northern home. 

Days passed and still the tragic fate of the hapless lovers held a placein fireside chats. 

Night had fallen. All was quiet in the sparsely settled neighborhood ofCave Hotel. Stephen, the guide, with basket and torch, swiftly descendedthe winding stairs and entered the grand colonnade, where the batsstill held high carnival. He pushed on, sometimes a little cramped forspace, till he reached the black avenue he had called Dan. Stoopinghe possessed himself of a string that was fastened to a stake in theground, and followed its course through intricate windings till a lightglimmered in the distance. Whistling softly, he advanced more rapidly. A shadow was flung upon the curtains of a doorway, and parting the folds, a figure appeared at the opening. 

"Ah, old fellow, you never forget us, " was the cheery greeting. 

"Not I, " said the man, "I think you will find your list all made outhere, " depositing his basket inside. 

The room was small and irregular in shape, but good taste andmoderate expenditure had converted it into a rustic boudoir of nomean pretensions. Cretonne hangings concealed the rough walls, anda few small pictures served to confine their bright folds to the unevensurface of earth and rock. The earthen floor was covered by a mat. A couch of the light, portable kind was daintily spread. A shelving rock, covered with a mat of Japanese print, held a never-failing lamp, and twocamp-chairs completed the furniture, which had been conveyed into thecave with the utmost care and secrecy. A few books and a number ofpapers lay scattered about. The presiding deity of the fairy bowerlooked a radiant welcome for the trusty ally upon whom they weredependent. 

"You dear old Stephen! Don't you think it is time we ventured out intothe world again?"

"Why, I think this looks like Heaven!" he said, with the freedom of hisoffice, "I don't know what you'd leave it for. "

"Yes, but you know that if it were not for your basket we should beforced to appear. But I am learning to manage the ovens and pans. Seehere, " and opening an inner curtain she revealed an alcove, where a fewprimitive cooking utensils were collected beside a small gasoline stove. 

"I reckon your cooking don't come to much more than warming over my billof fare, " said Stephen, with an involuntary glance at the soft whitehands, and an indulgent smile for the young housekeeper. 

"Oh, but I do cook, really, " she protested. "Eldon, did you ever tastenicer eggs? And the water down there carries off all the shells andscraps. Hear it rush along now!" and busily the stream did run to flowinto Green river, so the knowing ones said. "But, " she added; "if myfather only knew. The moment we hear that that hateful man has goneabroad we will defy all the rest. Do you know, Stephen, " in a lowertone, "we were very near being caught on the hill to-day. I was all bentover as usual in my old woman's dress, and Eldon was limping along onhis crutch stick when--hark! what was that?"

"Did you hear anything?" asked Eldon, coming to her side, "don't befrightened, love. It could not have been any one. You are nervous. "

The young wife's cheek paled a little as she reminded him of a frightfuldream she had before mentioned. 

"Nonsense, dear, we are safe as long as my bank holds out. In a shortwhile we will brave the world and be at least a nine days' wonder. "

Hoping to persuade Minnie Dare to elope with him, after their colloquyon the balcony the night of the ball, and thereby escape her persecutor, the young man had not followed the cave party on the long route withoutfirst amply supplying his purse. Stephen had suggested the strategemthey impulsively employed of temporarily disappearing into the blackcorridor opposite the Bottomless Pit, after throwing a heavy rock downthe abyss to simulate a fall; and Stephen had mapped out for them thewhole situation succeeding the supposed catastrophe. Thus far they hadnot lacked for comforts; and stolen visits in disguise to the upperregions had varied their solitude and given refreshing glimpses ofsunlight. 

"Eldon, I am sure I heard a noise!" again exclaimed the girl, clingingin terror to his arm. 

To appease her, the two men went out and made search. All was asusual--unless, indeed, a shred of cloth adhering to a jagged rock hadnot been there before. Stephen soon after left the pair, unconsciousthat a dark shadow was following him into the upper world, there tovanish among the shadows. 

For there is nothing hidden that shall not be revealed; and thiswell-guarded secret, known to only four persons, was trembling at itsfoundation. For her beloved father's sake the young wife was willing toendure privation; for she reasoned that Hammond would have no motive forvengeance if she were supposed to be lost; that her death would end themysterious power that threatened disgrace to Colonel Dare. Stephen waspaid well to be on guard, and his report that he had more than once seenHammond in the vicinity, made them exercise extreme caution andvigilance in going outside. 

At first the spirit of unrest had drawn the baffled suitor to the scene, where he had driven the unwilling maiden to her death, for he had lovedher as well as a selfish nature can love. Gradually there dawned uponhis mind a suspicion somewhat akin to the truth. Rumors were afloat thatStephen made nightly visits to the cave, not with exploring parties, butalone. A young couple had been seen wandering over the hills in themoonlight. Superstition said it was the ghosts of the ill-fated lovers. But when Jason Hammond heard these things they startled him as if struckwith an electric shock. He did not believe in ghosts. He resolved towatch. He, too, saw the figures at night. He saw them disappear behindthe steep ledge that leads downward into the bowels of the earth. Hedrew his own conclusions. 

If true, what should stay his vengeance against those who had thusduped him? He sought his opportunity, and cautiously followed the guideunto the very portals of the lovers' retreat. He heard the voices heremembered but too well. He knew now where to strike. He knew, too, thatfear of him kept Minnie Dare thus hidden, as in a grave. Aye, she feareddisgrace for her father, and more than all, she feared his vengeanceagainst her husband--for he did not doubt that they were married. Husband? As the word forced itself, the man ground his teeth in baffledrage and hate. He would take care that the dreaded vengeance should beswift and sure. 

The path to the subterranean retreat was perilous to a stranger; buthaving gone once, he was sure he could go again. The way was even nowfamiliar enough as far as the black avenue of Dan. Here the string, placed for the convenience of the lovers, would guide him, and if hisplans should be upset, he could retreat into the other black openingleading to the Bottomless Pit, where he now knew the lost pair hadplunged into Beersheba instead of into the chasm, the two landmarksbeing exactly opposite. He had not forgotten the guide's account ofthese two unexplored regions where there was "nothing of interest toshow tourists. " He began to see through the plot from the hour of theso-called tragedy. How easy, with the artful guide's connivance, to casta stone down the echoing ravine, then conceal themselves in the corridorclose by, extinguish their torches, and await in silence the next comingof their assistant! He himself had been adroitly decoyed out of the wayto steady the railing of the rickety bridge. The abrupt and narrow ledgehad hidden them from view. The escape was easy. All was clear now, andthe life of the man who had cheated him should pay the penalty. Shouldshe continue to refuse his suit, she, too, must die. The should findtheir grave in the spot they loved so well. There would be none to tellthe tale. 

Armed with a revolver, he groped on, using a torch as far as he dared. The absence of crystal formations, so thick and shining elsewhere, leftlarge, roomy passages easy to traverse, though there were frequent turnspuzzling to the uninitiated. As he approached the cosy bower he heard, to his chagrin, the voice of the guide. What should he do? The odds weretoo many for him. Wait till next day when his victims would probably bealone? Risk going in upon them before nightfall? How had Stephen eludedhis vigilance? In this dilemma he crept near enough to get a view of theinterior. The sight of Minnie Brand seated at her husband's knee, hishand caressing her flowing curls, so inflamed his wrath that an oathburst from his lips. The sound penetrated the boudoir. It was this timeunmistakable. Minnie uttered a faint cry. The two men started up, andsnatching a torch, quickly lit it, and dashed out. 

"To the inner chamber, my darling!" Eldon called back, as he threw downthe folds of the portiere and rushed headlong with Stephen. 

They scoured the Short Route avenue to its full length, while Hammond, his soul raging with murderous intent, traversed as rapidly as he dared, the Beersheba avenue toward the Long Route opening. 

"By the eternal! He's gone the other way! But he can't get out! Rightabout!"

Retracing their steps they had to proceed more cautiously, but they sooncaught sight of the figure ahead, now lost, now reappearing. 

"It is that blackhearted villain, who has hounded us!" cried Eldon. "On! on!"

But the guide, true to his calling, shouted:

"Surrender, or you are a dead man! The Bottomless Pit is right aheadof you. "

The fugitive halted a moment, glanced back, then dashed on again indefiance. At a sudden projection he tripped and fell, discharging thepistol into his own body. The sound reverberated in a thousand echoes. The wounded man staggered to his feet, and managed to gain the frailbridge. Here he fell across the railing, swayed there an instant; thenas his pursuers came up with helping hands, he plunged into the abyssbelow. 

 * * * * *

The denizens of Cave City never tire of telling how Eldon Brand andhis wife came back to the world, and how they fared in their romanticretreat. But there was a part of the story as strange as it wastragic. Upon dismantling the boudoir a leathern girdle was found, which contained several hundred dollars in gold, and a letter whichran thus:--

 "I am a dying man. I cannot find my way out. I have not strength to call, I must perish here of disease and want. I will make one more effort, but feel that I shall fail. I have made my peace with God. In leaving this world I leave only one enemy behind. This is Jason Hammond, who has wronged me foully. Living or dead, I shall haunt him. To whomsoever shall give this poor body Christian burial, I bequeath my estate. " (Here followed the location and description of the property). 

 "Signed:

 "DAVID HAMMOND. "

The paper was almost illegible. It had been written in pencil. Anextended search was made and the skeleton of a man was found in one ofthe most inaccessible recesses of the cave's many turnings. Beside thebody lay a torch and an exhausted lunch basket. Eldon Brand had theremains reverently committed to earth. 

The village gossips love to dwell upon the happiness of the brave younglovers, of the restoration of the gray-haired father to his old home inhonor and in plenty, and of the blooming lads and lassies that sprang upas time passed tenderly over the heads of the reunited household. 

A REVERIE

 The twilight falls in gloom; All day the fitful sun and sparkling show'r Have played at hide-and-seek amid the bloom-- The varied tints of Spring's fresh bow'r. Oh, sure each bud and blossom knows the spell Their subtle fragrance weaves about my brow; Oh, sure a mystic tale their echoes tell-- Love's soft, low-whispered vow. 

 The deep'ning sky o'ercast, The shadows slowly length' ning 'neath the trees, The tender leaves, swift in the vernal blast, To catch the music of the breeze; The young lush grass a-peep above the earth, The trailing vines that to the lattice cling, Ah, these to fancies warm and true give birth, And o'er my senses fling. 

 On landscape charms I glance; The city's distant hum is lull'd to rest, Athwart the sunset dark'ning clouds advance. And shut from sight the rosy west; A dreamy orison enshrines my heart. Deep shelter'd in the sacred haunts of home, Where elfin sprites among the eeries dart, Irradiate in the gloam. 

 Shine out, sweet love, unveil Thy ecstasy erst wrought in accents wild; Within my soul there breathes an anguish'd wail, Unsoothed by resignation mild. I would not, if I might, give back the joy That sweeps my pulses with enraptured thrill; In transports pure the moments cannot cloy-- My craving lingers still. 

 Nor time may rend the tie; The fealty that holds the captive will In potent thrall, if sever'd soon, Poor human faith a-blight and chill must die. O birdlings, blossoms, leaflets, flow'rs, Give forth chaste spirits to enchant the air; Let silver'd mem'ries glad the lonely hours, And crown my picture fair. 

 * * * * *

 The night comes on apace; The cricket's chirp, the woodland murmur's swell, Bid nature's changeling melodies efface The glamour of yon phantom spell. The flashing morn adown the glist'ning aisles, A dew-embowered hill and grove and lea, With ruthless light will scatter fairy wiles, Nor leave my love to me. 

--E. D. P. 

THE MISER AND THE ANGEL

 'Twas cold and bleak that winter's night, When hover'd o'er the dying light, The miser hugg'd his shrunken form, And grudged the fire that made him warm. 

 The old worn latch arose and felt, He started up with threat'ning yell-- 'Begone!"--as in the open door A woman stood, faint and foot-sore. 

 "Just this, " she begged, "this rotten board-- 'Twill not be missed from out your hoard. " "Take it and go!" he thundered out-- "Oh, thanks, " she moaned, and turned about. 

 Another shivering night he sat; A lad came in--"Please, Mister, "--"What?" "This piece of rope. " He said not nay, But curs'd him as he went his way. 

 And once again there ventured nigh A child, who fled with frightened cry, As at her head a rusty key-- The gift she craved--he flung with glee. 

 * * * * *

 The sands of life were nearly run; "What good to others have you done?" The angel ask'd. The miser sighed. "Not one kind act, " he sadly cried. 

 "Not one? Did you ne'er give, nor lend Relief to neighbor, suppliant, friend?" The dying eyes were closed--he thought On all the misery he had wrought. 

 A ray of light! "I gave a board. " "'Tis well--'twill span death's river ford. " "A mouldy rope. " "'Twill reach from earth To Heaven. What more of feeble worth?" "A rusty key. " "Unlocks the gate. Is this the sum? No--not too late; The sinner's Friend has room for all, -- The least you do is not too small. "

--E. D. P. 

REST

 For so He giveth His beloved sleep. 

IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER

 A soul is gather'd home; At morn, at eve, on mission kind intent, Her footsteps evermore were wont to roam, Till years their ceaseless labor spent. Each day its olive leaf of grace brought in-- garner'd leaf from charity's broad field; Each day's good deeds redeem'd a life from sin, And gray'd anew her shield. 

 The lowly suppliant bless'd, When to the hovel came her welcome smile; The cold, the hungry, friendless and distress'd, With gen'rous aid she cheer'd the while; And not alone the desolate and poor Sought counsel of her wisdom and her love; The high-born and the cultured cross'd her door To share her treasure-trove. 

 A nature great and high, No puny thought could dwell within her breast; How sad to see her worth untimely die! Yet who may wail the needful rest? Her willing hand, her tireless step, her active brain, Rear'd lofty landmarks on the busy way; The haunts that knew her long'd with yearning vain, The reaper's scythe to stay. 

 The strife at last is o'er; The strife that all great souls must needs endure; And anchor'd fast on Eden's peaceful shore, Her roving bark is strong and sure. The world is full of workers for the right; "They also serve who only stand and wait. " No waiting servant she; with armor bright She pass'd the pearly gate. 

--E. D. P. 

THE CHANGED CROSS

 A little gilt-edge volume, Its covers reddish brown, It glossy leaves one burden bore, Without the cross, no crown. 

 I turned the pages slowly, The fly-leaf wore a name; With eyes suffused in quick response, I noted whence it came. 

 A tender message bade me Take up the lowly cross, For love and mercy's joint decree Apportions every loss. 

 "No cross--no crown"--the mandate, With cruel meaning falls; The heavy-laden soul shrinks back, The lonely way appals. 

 Ah, me! sweet friend, I thank thee; This little ray of light Steals o'er the darken'd firmament, Illuming sorrow's night.