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ISSUED SBXZ-WSBSL^^ l. m. grists sons, publishers. { % Jfamilg Beicspaper: ifor the promotion of the fjoliticat, Social, ^gricntfupt and <Eommei;cial interests of the feople. {copV nil established 1855. YORKyiLLE, a C-. FRIDAYT JULY 17, 1908^ . NO. 57. f A TSB J AS1 4! By ETTA J* *f-* 41 *f* % ^ f* *?* *?* *f?! CHAPTER IX. His Failure. On the following day Nigel Hume appeared at the Beacon Stre?t house, full ten minutes in advance of Mis. Ellicott's dinner hour. He meant to be punctual. As the footman opened the drawingroom door a strain of music greeted Hume's ears. Some one was at the piano, singing in a soft, dreamy voice that song of Swinburne's: " 'Is It worth a tear. Is it worth an hour. To think of things that are well outworn ? Of fruitless husk, and fugitive flower, The dream foregone and the deed forborne?" Hume crossed the threshold, and a hush fell. The musician arose from the instrument, and came forward into the light of the mantel candelabra. It was a girl in a dinner dress of some rich shimmering fabric. In her corsage was pinned a spray of tuberoses. The whiteness of her skin made her look like something cut from Parian. She gilded toward the intruder? fixed upon him two wide brown eyes. "I am Nigel Hume," he said; "I dare say my aunt Is expecting me." "And I am Edith Fassel," replied the vision. "Mrs. Ellicott has had a sudden ill turn, but she will be down directly. Yes, she told me you were to dine here oday." Hume felt a sudden, strange impulse to take to his heels. "Miss Fassel!" It was the bride that Lepel Ellicott had deserted on her marriage night. "I have heard of you!" he stammered, idiotically. "Very likely. And I of you"?with a faint smile. "Mr. Hume, I am glad that Mrs. Elliott has found a nephew. She is old, Infirm and alone. You will comfort her?you will r.econclle her again to life." Brazen enough under all ordinary circumstances, Hume felt himself coloring now, like a schoolboy. "I fear you overrate my powers. Can I comfort her?" "Yes. and in a measure fill her son's place." ohivik his head. "I have small hope of doing that First of all, some evils are too great for consolation; then I am a stranger, the child of a sister with whom she was at variance; I have none of the brilliant gifts of that precious foo"? He pulled himself up suddenly. "I mean." he concluded, with Increasing confusion, yet looking her squarely in the face. "Lepel Ellicott must have been a queer sort." "Did you know your cousin?" asked Miss Fassel, dryly. "Not at all. But that fact gives me no particular regret. I pitied him till this moment. Now I see that he was an unheard-of Idiot, who deserved all"? Luckily the door opened before he could finish the sentence, and Mrs. Ellicott entered. She greeted her nephew cordially. "I have had a slight Indisposition," she said. "These attacks?with a sad smile?"warn me to set my affairs in order. Ah!" she flashed a quick glance from Hume to Miss Fessel, "you two need no introduction. That Is well. I want you to be friends." They went out to dinner. Hume did not shine at the meal. He was silent and shy. Though he was careful to keep his eyes from Miss Fassel, not a movement of that young person escaped him. He marked her slow, lingering smile, the graceful turn of her head, the beauty of her dazzling, ringless hands; and the scent of the tuberoses which she wore in her bosom remained in his nostrils long after he left the house. "Report has exaggerated her charms," he thought; "she is simply a counterpart of Tennyson's Maud: " 'Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null.' " She seemed quite at home in that desolate house?quite at her ease, also. And it was plain that Mrs. Ellicott adored her. Coffee was served in old Dresden cups; and as Hume was about to make his adieux, his aunt drew him into her library, and opened a check book. "I hear that you live in obscure lodgings, and in a very humble manner," she said; "I wish to change all that." He drew back, reddening to his tenpies. "Pardon me?I cannot take your money. I live quite as well as the majority of my fellow students. My wants are but few, and Ipartan simplicity"?with an uneasy laugh?"is good for a man." t She looked at him steadfastly. "You are too proud to accept help from me," she said; "you prefer to remain independent?" "That is it!" he answered; and she closed the check book, and permitted him to depart without further words. After that, he was summoned often to the Beacon Street house?to stately dinners, to cheerful five-o'clock teas, to * * * ^f ho delightful luncnes. oam m. .w., butler, to Susan Taylor: "My stomach rebels agin that young man as slashes up cold corpses: he comes 'ere much too often: I 'ave no liking for your Mr. "Ume." "He Isn't my Mr. Hume." sniffed Susan; "I want no part in him. Indeed, I couldn't bring myself to look with favor on the Angel Gabriel himself, if I saw that he was trying to slip into poor Mr. Lepel's place." Mrs. Elllcott did not again offer her nephew money, nor seek to impose any obligation upon him. Hume met Miss Fassel constantly at the Ellicott house. Plainly, the events of the previous year had in nowise disturbed that young person's affectionate relations with Mrs. Elllcott. She bore herself like a daughter toward the childless woman. "Lepel's death has blotted out all his transgressions." Hume secretly concluded. "Womanlike, she finds it easy to forgive the man she loved, and to I* 4* *?* 4* 4* 4* ~k ^ y> ^ ^ ^ t W. PIERCE. J f* 'f3 *& *$= *f* ^ *$* ?f? *f? *$? be kind to the old mother for his sake." Sometimes he found her presiding at the tea equipage in the Ellicott drawing-room. Sometimes, in gray twl ngnis, wnen me t-asi wmu n? uiumu6 sharp as a knife from the harbor, she sat under rose-colored lights, and played nocturnes or soft sonatas with the skill of one who had learned her art from famous masters. She had very little to say at any time to the shabby medical student, and Hume dd not wonder at that. How could she tolerate him at all? How could she bear to enter the Ellicott house, or even hear the name spoken? Sometimes he saw her on the crowded streets, riding in a victoria with green liveries; and one day a certain Jack Harold, his friend and fellow student, said to him: "In Heaven's name, Hume, why do you always change countenance at sight of that particular carriage? I chased it two whole blocks one morning, Just to discover what it held that upset you so." "I hope your laudable curiosity was rewarded." "Well, I saw two women inside the vehiolp?nnp voune. one old?and some fluffy lapdogs. All belonged, without doubt, to the four hundred. The younger female was a genuine Boston exotic, white as snow, cold as Arctic ice?looked as though s' e could discuss bacilli, Browning o'' beans with a room full of savants," Hume frowned. "What nonsense' you talk. Jack! That is the girl whom Lepel Ellicott deserted on her marriage night. The i-lpht of her throws me into a cold sweat. I long to hide in dens and caves?to fly " 'Anywhere, anywhere, out of the world!' . She Is a sort of relic of Lepel; and I, figuratively speaking, am attempting to put on Lepel's shoes. Perhaps these facts account for the peculiar sensations which I experience in her presence. At any rate, I would rather face' a loaded cannon than Miss Fassel." Harold, a small, fair young man in spectacles, looked hard at his friend. "By Jove!" he said, and drew a low whistle. Spring came. The lively crocus peeped from the brown moid under the plate-glass windows of the Ellicott house. The huge vines, curling about the little iron balconies of the mansion, put forth countless leaves. Across the mall the grass was like emerald velvet, and the old. historic trees spread full, umbrageous branches to the June sky. On? nftprnonn Hume started out for a solitary walk in the suburbs. Incessant study and meagre fare were telling on the young fellow's strength. He looked haggard and careworn. Jack Harold, who was Just recovering from a sharp attack of typhoid, had gone away to recuperate In some remote Maine fishing town. In the absence of his friend. Hume tramped off alone, weary in body and somewhat dull in spirit. He was a good pedestrian, and the aftemoon was his own. The broad avenue along which he plodded was smooth as a floor, dappled with soft shadows, and bordered on either side with superb villas and gardens. A cool, sweet wind, full of reviving power. blew from him the sickening scents of the hospital. His thoughts were occupied with a terrible surgical operation which he had witnessed that day. "It was superbly done," he muttered half aloud. "Old Bellamy surpassed himself"?referring to an autocrat surgeon, of whom the students stood in wholesome awe. "Pity that Harold should have missed the sight! I must write to him about it." In sudden remembrance, he clapped a hand to his breast pocket, and drew forth a letter received several hours before, but quite forgotten in the important event of the day. It was Harold's latest effort, and ran as follows: "Already I have gained amazingly in flesh and strength, my dear Hume. Old Bellamy knew what he was about when he advised me to try the air of Cape Desolation. The finny tribe disport in all the neighboring waters, and birds abound on the rocks. I remember that you have no tendre for the sex; but I will mention that the cape girl is renowned for her good looks. I have established a close friendship with a certain old fisherman named Hillyer, who owns a jigger, and lives at a secluded cove, called after his own family. He is the uncle of two blazing beauties, both still in their teens. I give yov ,ny word, that pair of young creatures would create a sensation in any Boston drawing room. The elder, known as the sailor girl, because of some wonderful exploits of ners on blue water, is a Juno, with velvet-black eyes and a profile cut like an old cameo. The other? But I forbear! That way lies madness? diablerie. One must neither think nor talk about the other. "Come down here for a week or two, J ~ ~ ,1 Uao thn rwilk-?? ,?f Ill) Ut'ai nuillC, dliu lira I uir maai, the surf, and the scream of sea fowl on ('ape Desolation. My landlady, worthy soul, bakes toothsome cuddies, and airs her sheets with religious care. Of course, you will say no, and plead the old excuse?an empty purse?your usual inability to raise the wind. But consider; you are fagged out?done up. You have studied harder than any of us?burned the midnight oil with what I may call ghastly freedom. A few days' rest will put you on your legs again. Ask the rich aunt for a check, pawn your watch, turn footpad?do anything, lawful or otherwise, but come before my own leave of absence dwindles to a close. "By the way. Hume, I have stumbled upon a case here?a curious and terrible case?which at first sight aroused my professional interests to the utmost: but I can make nothing f>f it. You see, the grand eyes of Juno?I mean Miss Hillyer?muddle my head so hopelessly when I go to the cove, i that all my wits seem Hying Into space. , When she looks at me I do not know whether 1 am medical student or a clam digger. Bring your cool brain ' and keen eye to the cape, and you will , find occupation for both." Hume had paused in the friendly shade of some wayside trees to read > the letter. His back was to a stately garden wall, overtopped by English hawthorn. He leaned meditatively against the gray stone, smiling at his own thoughts. "Poor old Jack!?rescued from typhoid, he must tumble into love! Who shall say that the last state of tire man is not worse than the first? Cape Desolation?a sailor girl?a terrible case? pooh! What a medley! Of course, I cannot go." He put the letter back in his pocket. As he did so a thud of approaching hoofs saluted his ears. Miss Fassel, mounted upon a superb bay horse, appeared in a bend of the road. She wore an English habit of darkblue cloth, a small, round hat of the same color, and silver-gray gauntlets. olon^ar flcrnro strwwt Ollt in bold I1CI OlVIIUVt iigu* w - relief against the green trees and high stone wall which framed her on either side. She drew rein at sight of Hume. "I fear you are lost," she said smiling. "No," he answered; "only seeking fresh fields and pastures new." "You may not know it," she said; "but you have stopped directly at my own gate. Yes, this is Windmere," as he started up from the wall, coloring hotly, "my birthplace. Ah, how awkward !" The exclamation was called forth by a coil of loosened hair which fell sundenly on her shoulders from under her hat brim. Like a huge twist of bronze silk shot through with yellow gleams, it swept down to her saddle. "I have been riding far and fast," she said, "and the wind is high. Unfortunately, I lost sight of my groom some time ago. and have no idea where he now Is. May I ask you to hold my whip and gloves, Mr. Hume?" He took the whip and gTay gauntlets, and with a dexterous turn of her white wrist she gathered up her escaped tresses, and pinned them quickly In place. Hume gave one look at the supple curves of her figure?at the highbred face so cool and unembarrassed; then his eyes sought the distant landscape, and he did not even glance toward her again till she reached for her gauntlets. "Now that you find yourself at my very door, Mr. Hume," she said, sweetly. "I beg you will not refuse to take a cup of tea with Aunt Latimer. She is at home, and will be glad to welcome you." A sudden dazzling smile, such as she had never bestowed on him before, accompanied the words. Go with her? He could not help himself! Like a man in a dream, he walked by the side of the bay horse, through the stone gates, and up the long driveway to Wind mere. At the door she sprang from the saddle, hardly touching the hand which Hume held out to her, and went away to doff her habit. Aunt Latimer arose from a seat on the piazza, and came forward to greet her visitor. "So glad to see you, Mr. Hume." And she drew him hospitably to a seat amid the ferns. "Positively, Edith every day grows more and more like an English woman. She finds her chief amusement in her horses and dogs. I dare say that poor groom is lost again ?he always is when he tries to follow tier." Hume glanced around. The piazza was a bower of tropical plants, set in huge Moorish jars. Magnificent roses, varying in hue from fairest white to darkest crimson, Haunted on tne posts and the balustrade. Two or three collie dogs lay stretched along the floor. Through long windows, opening this way and that, glimpses of luxurious interiors were revealed?a mahogany room, with walls of soft willow green and draperies of salmon-tinted brocade?a salon with ivory-enameled furniture. and walls paneled in blue and gold. The peacocks were spreading gorgeous plumes on the terrace, and all the air was heavy with the perfume of the roses. "Let us have tea on the piazza, Aunt Latimer," said Miss Fassel, appearing suddenly in a glass door behind Hume's chair. Her riding habit had been exchanged - - * * ? ' * * ? - T4? 1 I for a dress or aun-Qiue iaiue. iw iuu falling oversleeves were tucked up to show close mediaeval undersleeves, stiff with gold embroidery. A high collar and pointed girdle of the same rich stuff gave a fetching air to the costume. A golden dagger was thrust through the bronze colls of her hair. A servant brought out the tea service, and laid it on a round table in the midst of the tropical plants. The rattling of the Sevres cups and the old Dutch-galliot spoons made a cheerful sound in that bower of bloom. Miss Fassel poured tea for her guest, and Aunt Latimer helped him to delicious little cakes and a dish of crimson strawberries. And Hume? All in a moment he became aware that he was poor, unknown and halting in speech?that his clothes were shabby, ill-fitting, and permeated with lingering odors of anaesthetics?that he was the last person on earth who should be sitting there with that ravishing patrician girl?Lepel Ellicott's forsaken love! "It is good to be once more at Windmere In dear, beautiful June," Aunt I<atimer was saying, with her kindly old face turned upon Hume. "You see, last year, at this time, Edith and I were abroad. 1 am a miserable traveler, and the dear child insisted upon going everywhere and seeing everything. You can't imagine, Mr. Hume, the fearful muddle of dingy om pictures and dusty cathedrals and dirty beggars that confuse my poor memory when I try to recall our eighteen months of travel." "I fear it was a little tiresome to you, dear Aunt Latimer," said Miss Fassel, with the sugar tongs lifted above a massive silver bowl, ornamented with the head of winged Mercury. "You do not flourish on foreign soil. Yet, you had some happy days, did you not?" "Yes, yes?certainly. As soon as I saw that new scenes and new experiences were working wonders for you, dear. I was quite resigned to everything." "I mean." said Miss Fassel, calmly, "that you remember with pleasure such things as the almond flowers in our Roman garden; the Gateau St. Honore, and other fascinating sweets, which we found in the shops near the Tuileries; the Venice moonlight, the palms and aloes, the marvelous atmosphere?yes, and the donkey boys of Cairo; you f know you quite loved those donkey r boys, Aunt Latimer," with a merry lit- f tie laugh. t The elder woman regarded her niece s with fond, indulgent eyes. "The very nicest thing I remember." 1 she said, cheerfully, "happened one I night when we went to see the pyramids and the Sphinx by moonlight h There was a bridge?Kasr-el-Nll It was s called?and an avenue of acacias, p which some khedive planted for the Empress Eugenie; and the Nile was as li white as silver, and the vast sands and y the Arab mud huts under the date I palms were all very picturesque. A s tall Bedouin, in a curious white gar- a ment, wanted to run up and down the t pyramid for our amusement or instruc- 1 tion, I forget which, and he demanded ten piastres for his trouble. In search- li ing your purse, you discovered Lepel d Ellicott's engagement ring. You threw it into the Nile?a very wise act, too, s and one that surely broke some evil s spell. Old Father Nile seemed to cast v a benign influence upon you at once, tl for after that night I never saw you out of spirits again." g The blank silence which followed this reminiscence recalled poor Aunt Latimer to her senses. "Oh, dear!" !i she stammered, "the person who talks too much is always sure to say something wrong. Pray, pardon me, Edith, ti and give Mr. Hume another cup of tea a ?I am sure he likes It strong and hot." 1; Had his life been the forfeit, Hume p could not have refrained from one swift It glance at Edith Fassel. Her face was calm and unmoved. She replenished *Ua An/?n?o Yirl + Vl ft dtno/lv Vl Q Tl H And r< lilt' ictttuj^n "iui a otvuu; % ? ! ?? then began to feed the collie dogs with the last of the cakes. a The repast under the roses ended?It 9 was time to say good-by. v Aunt Latimer gave Hume a friendly hand at parting, and begged him to come again. Miss Fassel repeated the h invitation, but without warmth. He cast one last look at her, as she stood b leaning against the rose-wreathed n balustrade, her dull-blue gown and 9 golden girdle shining in the sunset light; then, feeling as though the gate of an enchanted land had closed upon 91 him, he strode off down the driveway, and took the road back to town. For a week after he kept closely to his studies, and forgot to visit the Bea- 9( con Street house. At the end of that 9 time a note from Mrs. Elllcott stiffly ? reminded him of his neglect. 81 "I wish to see you Immediately," she w wrote, "on business of Importance. I " shall leave the city shortly for my t< Newport villa, and there are matters tl which I must arrange with you before d my departure." Hume read these words, and felt, d somehow, that a crisis was at hand. <* He made haste to meet It. ^ In the dusk of the summer twiligrht h he?for the last time?entered the E11I- o cott drawing room. It was empty, but a murmur of voices behind the portiere which separated that apartment from b the library told him that his aunt wa9 * not far away. Presently she pushed d back the curtain and limped In, looking more feeble than ever. tl "I have not seen you for a week," V she began, with some asperity. S] He hastened to push her favorite chair into place. "I could not help it," he answered, mendaciously. "I am not a brilliant tl fellow, you know?I make my way only a by hard and diligent study." "Sit down beside me. I have call- h ed you tonight for a special reason, c It is time for us to understand each h other." "Quite true," he answered, quietly. It "My mind is made up, Nigel. You a shall be my heir, on one condition." S "Name it." s "I have chosen a wife for you. Marry n her, and I will ask nothing more." tl For a moment he seemed too as- 1 tounded to reply. Then a curious n smile curved his well-cut lips. n "My dear aunt, you snatch away my h breath. A wife? You are very good a ?too good, for, pardon me, I have no n desire for such a possession." "I ask you to marry?no, I command P it!" she cried, pounding the floor with s her gold-headed stick. "Don't advance o objections?I know what I am talking " about." "Then you have the advantage of b me," he answered. S She laid one hand impressively on his w arm. ti "Let me explain. You are already aware that your cousin Lepel, at the b time of his death, was betrothed to the fi richest single woman in the country?" "Yes." s "When Edith Fassel lay in her cradle w I was planning to marry her to my N son. I loved the girl?have always loved her as a daughter. I need not speak of Lepel's madness?it is a mys- ti tery which has never been solved, and never will be, perhaps. I will simply h say that I want you to marry Miss Fas- 1< sel, and atone, so far as you can, for Lepel's conduct. You are his succes- e sor in this house. Take his bride, as t! well as his inheritance?become at once a suitor for Edith Fassel's hand; pur- n sue her till she is won, and every dollai that I possess shall be yours. The u Ellicott fortune, united with Miss Fas- v sel's, will make you enormously rich." He sat as though turning to stone, r Darkness was fast gathering in the o room. On the mantel a timepiece of a tortoiseshell and brass ticked with loud insistence. "Why do you look at me like that?" cried Mrs. Eiiicott. sharply. "Speak!? r say something, and at once!" f "My dear aunt, did it ever occur to t you that Miss Fassel may have had r quite enough of the Eiiicott family and b all its connections?" said Hume, in a n iqeer, suppressed voice. "It would be singular if, after her experience with a Lepel, she could consent to receive " matrimonial overtures from another of I his race." "She is a woman," answered Mrs. Eiiicott, "and therefore can be won. Her fine nature harbors resentment against no one. With your own eyes you have seen how she cheers and comforts me. As for Lepel, she forgave him long ago?who can cherish ill feeling toward the dead? His terrible fate has wiped out his errors. Nigel Hume, you have lived long enough to know that the man who woes with sufficient ardor can win any woman whose heart is unoccupied." "Doubtless Miss Fassel's dead lover still occupies her heart." "The dead are harmless rivals. You c are evading me. Speak, I tell you?ev- * erything depends on your answer!" * "And yet"?with accession of wrath I -"you refuse to approach Miss Fassel f n the character of a lover?" ."I refuse!" "She does not suit your fastidious aste?"?mockingly. "You, the son of penniless country surgeon, deliberateit slight a belle and an heiress, whose lace is at the very top of the social tdder." He made no answer. "In short, you will not attempt to edeem Lepel's honor?" "It cannot be done," he replied, with j bitterness born of the tumult which be had aroused within him. "No man rho respects himself would undertake he task!" In a towering passion she rose from er chair. /'Ingrate! Say it again, that I may e certain my ears have not deceived |e; you will not try to woo Miss Fas- i el?" "I will not!" "You give up the Ellicott fortune ooner than ask her to marry?" i "Most cheerfully." There was a sudden movement on he other side of the portiere, as though nme Derson had nushed back a chair uddenly. airs. Elllcott started? hanged countenance. The sound eemed to remind her of something rhlch, In the excitement of the molent, she had forgotten. She limped 3 the curtain, dashed it back, and on lie other side of that abominable < rapery Hume saw?would he ever for- i et the sight??Edith Fassel, In street ress, standing with one gloved hand 1 n the chair from which she had just 1 Isen, and the other pressed against er heart. She had heard every word f tne conversation In the adjoining | 3on.. "Edith! Edith!" cried Mrs. Elllcott, l a frightened voice, "I quite forgot nat you were waiting here?I did, Ineed!" It was useless for Hume to call upon , He earth to open and swallow him. without a word?for he was past peaking?he seized his hat and rushd from the house. , Mrs. Elllcott limped up to the motor less figure, and threw her arms round it. "How could you?" said Edith Fassel, , i a low, broken voice. "Oh, Mrs. Elliott, how could you?after all that I ave endured In the past?" ( "Edith, you break my heart! Ye3, | wm ft foolish scheme?an outrage? n insult?I acknowledge It now. Forlve me. I found It Impossible to reIgn you wholly, and since you could ever be my daughter, by this way I tiought to keep you always near me. 'ou know how Lepel's falsity wrung ] i.v heart. I dreamed that Hume?but o, I will not offend your ears with is name. He is weighed in the balnce and found wanting. From this loment I wash my hands of him!" Miss Fassel struggled hard for comosure. Perhaps the compassion which he felt for Lepel Elllcott's mother vercame her natural Indignation and 'ounded pride. "Oh, Edith, cannot you pardon the lunder of a heartbroken old woman?" roaned Mrs. Elllcott. "Yours Is a .'onderfully sweet and generous naure." The tears shone In Miss Fassel's rown eyes. She leaned and kissed her riend. "Promise never to speak of this hour o long as we both shall live, and I .'ill pardon you with my whole heart, Irs. Elllcott." "I promise, dearest child." Ten minutes later Miss Fassel had iken her departure from the house. Mrs. Elllcott, left alone in the drawig room, rang the bell for Susan Tayir. "I must see my lawyer, nar. oiepnns, immediately, Susan," she said, as hat scraggy female appeared In haste. "It Is long past office hours?send a lessenger at once to his house." "Lord above! ma'am, I hope no new npleasantness has happened to you!" entured Susan, in sudden fright. "Many things have happened, Susan," eplied her mistress, "bitf the principal ne is this?the Ellicott fortune is gain without an heir!' To be Continued. Rri* Van Winkle.?Rip Van Winkle , etumed from his long sleep looking resh as a daisy, and made his way to he village shop, not only because he , leeded a hair-cut and shave, but also iecause he wished to catch up on the iews. "Let's see," said he to the barber, fter he was safely tucked in the chair, I've been asleep twenty years, navm i "Yep." replied the tonsoriallst. "Have 1 missed much?" "Nope, we bin standln' pat." "Has congress done anything yet?" "Not a thing." ( "Jerome done anything?" , "Nope." "Piatt resigned?" "Nope." "Panama canal built?" "Nope." "Bryan been elected?" "Nope." "Carnegie poor?" "Nope." "Well, say," said Rip, rising up in the hair, "never mind shaving the other ide of my face. I'm going back to leep again."?Success. jj He grrew a shade paler. "I decline to consider your proposal or an instant, by dear aunt! You nust be mad to choose me, of all men, or Miss Passel's next suitor. I swear < you, I have not the effrontery for uch a role." Then, waxing vehement, I would rather be shot than attempt t! You will have to excuse me?as leaven hears me, you will!" For months she had been cherishing ier plan In secret. His prompt oppoitlon filled her with rage and disap>ointment. "This Is the first command I ever lid upon you," she said, bitterly, "and ou Immediately refuse to obey me! lltherto, Miss Fassel has been conIdered by the world at large a rara vis?a wonderful creature. What good hlng do you find lacking In her? ropth ??beauty"? -Stop, I beg you! God knows she icks nothing. You purposely mlsun erstand me." "When you first entered this house," he cried, raising her voice to a shrill ticcato, "I was careful to ask If you fere heart-whole. You assured me bat you were." tf'I spoke the truth!" he answered, foomlly. iUiscrUantous Beading. cr THREE TIMES FOR PRESIDENT. th st tci Career of Mr. Bryan as the Idol of His ^ Party. fo Twelve years ago William J. Bryan was nominated for the presidency of A the United States at Chicago for the at first time. Mr. Bryan was renominated in 1900 without a dissenting vote, rc But the convention did not acknowl- ec edge his dictatorship, repudiated his sr candidacy for vice president and came ea near rejecting his demand that the cl free silver coinage declaration of 189C IS should be reaffirmed. In 1904 Judge m Parker was nominated without dlffl- d( culty, but a vigorous opposition devel- ,hf oped within the convention, and, winnlng a victory in the resolutions com- d? mittee, forced him to write his gold m standard telegram and thus created dissensions which helped to aggravate di his defeat. It was in the 1904 conven- a! tion that Mr. Bryan made a most vlg- 19 orous campaign In the committee on P? resolutions, the session of that body t'1 lasting for seventeen hours. For the m third time Mr. Bryan has become the candidate of his party. Three times se was Henry Clay, an unsuccessful candidate for president. Three times ,a Andrew Jackson was a candidate for th president and twice he was elected. In 1824 the election went Into the ila- a* tlonal house of representatives, and T1 John Qulncy Adams, chosen. Qrover Cleveland's record equaled Jackson's. James G. Blaine was an aspirant for w Ri the nomination for president at the tv hands of the Republicans three times, but landed the prize only once. Wil- w 11am J. Bryan was born in March, M 1860, at a time when thi country was deep In trouble, so that he has been the party nominee three times before he has reached his fiftieth year. His career has been varied. His aptitude for politics was early marked, and his absolute control of a great national , |y party like the Democratic has stamp- J ed him among men as an adept In his line. A remarkable feature of the w' nomination of Mr. Bryan Is that the former big leaders of the party were ar absent from the convention and he ran the machine himself, took the e' nomination tendered him and dictated Its policies. *r Oratory Helped Him to Fame. Mr. Bryan Is of Virginia stock. His jy father was Silas L. Bryan, who was T1 born in Culpepper county. Va., at the foot of the Blue Ridge, and lived there 'a until 18 years old, when he moved to e* Illinois, where he eventually became enough of a politician to be elected tft a state senator. Mr. Bryan graduated from the Illinois college in 1881, and later entered the office of Lvman fo Turnbull, who later became United states senator, and was one of the most remarkable men of his day. The er Influence of Turnbull upon the young ^ law student had much to do with n? formlne his mind and his future ca- ln reer. He settled at Jacksonville, 111., Vl and within a year married Miss Mary E. Eaird, the only daughter of a merchant In the neighboring town of Perry. Eryan was now 24 years of age. He had a wife,, was a fluent talker. ,n had very little law practice, but plenty ra of pluck and hope. He visited Lincoln. ev N'eb., ln 1887, upon Invitation of a col- ca lege chum, Adolphus Talbot. He soon was of opinion that the country of the ^ Platte offered better opportunities than Illinois and he moved to Lincoln. ar His law practice was not worth much more than 51.500 per year, and there or did not seem to be much chance of Its 'e lno??ooaln(y Pnf a cfrnlfp r\f fnrtlinp " """"v . came. Mr. Bryan was elected a dele- or gate to the Democratic state conven- m tlon at Omaha. During a lull In the proceedings he was Invited to make a few remarks. That was the turning to point in the life history of the young man. His remarks attracted attention: next they thrilled his hearers, and th finally he captured the convention. The u next day he found himself Instead of a cr struggling lawyer one of the foremost 8U figures in state politics. His theme ?c was reform of the tariff and anti-dls- w crimination by the railroads. The farmers were deep into those subjects. 'n Bryan was overwhelmed with invltatlons to make addresses, and his fame spread. Soon he was known as "The Boy Orator of the Platte." H Gets Into Congress. In 1889 he declined the nomination for lieutenant governor, but a year later he accepted the nomination to p, congress from his district. The dis' ? 11.. O r\nn D^nkllnon ' ' inui W?UI IIUIUUIII)' t),UUU XVC}/UL/I1V,UII, but the Republicans of the state had & r for some time been affected with pro- ? to hibition ideas imported from Iowa, and had committed themselves to an amendment to the state constitution , prohibiting: the liquor traffic, as It was prohibited in Iowa. Bryan won by ar 6,713 and was re-elected two years later by 140 majority. He was given a UI place on the ways and means commitQ> tee and became a lieutenant to William L. Wilson on his great tariff light. Becomes Free Silver Champion. During his second term in congress, Mr. Bryan became the open champion hl of free coinage of silver, and was made te the chief lieu-tenant of Bland. He was continued on the ways and means com- Rr mittee and was the first, it is said, to UI suggest the income tax clause in the Wilson tariff bill. At the end of his or second term. Mr. Bryan undertook the Pi editing of the Omaha World-Herald as be a free silver organ, hoping to win elec- su tlon as United States senator. But fii the enemy contracted for two columns of space on the editorial page of Mr. Ic; Bryan's paper, and used It so effectual- wl ly that Bryan went to court to annul nl the contract. But he failed In that and ca In his hopes of becoming a senator. th His first nomination 12 years ago ba was won by his remarkable speech on ar free silver. He had prepared this ed speech carefully, but not with the idea |0 of being nominated for president. It ta is said that the nomination was an afterthought. Mr. Bryan has always had vt, a large percentage of Populism in his m composition, and his views have been ge startling to the east. He early advo- m rated control of railroad rates, and fr nearly all the "isms" that have ap- W( pea red in the country. fr A F'olitical Backset. fn His second defeat in 1900 was dls- j? appointing, hut he was not dismayed. i<| In 1906 he made a tour of the world |s] and was received by crowned heads, a bi mark of esteem and honor seldom ac- m corded to a private citizen. Upon his CJ) return he made a speech advocating (p government ownership of railroads and P* ansportatlon companies. This projced a discordant note In the Demo atic party, and Mr. Bryan soon saw lat he had struck the wrong key. He ?on dropped the subject and returned those before the public at this tltne. Is 'ideas are expressed in the platrm. Mr. Bryan Is q remarkable talker, recent visitor to his home tells this >out him: "The Democratic chieftain estimates lughly that each year he has deliverI 250 speeches, traveled 25,000 miles, ?oken on an average half an hour ich time. The figures show that, inuding his trip around the world in :96. Mr. Bryan has traveled 300,000 lies since his first defeat for presi?nt, has addressed 3,000,000 people, is spoken 3,000 times and has talked 500 hours, or a little more than 62 iys, which is two full calendar onths." One year Mr. Bryan spoke a hun ed times on the Chautauqua circuit one, and often in the campaign in >00, when anti-imperialism was the iramount issue, he talked thirty-flve mes a day. In 1904 the speeches he ade for Judge Parker greatly exceedI those the candidate made for hlm lf. Mr. Bryan, in addition to being a wyer, is the editor and proprietor of ie Commoner, a weekly newspaper of eat circulation. He lives on a farm )out four miles from Lincoln, Neb. he farm is a model in its way and one the show places of the district. The members of his family are his ife, a young daughter, Grace Balrd ryan, attending school in Virginia; 'illiam Jennings Bryan, Jr., a son, ho attends a military college, and rs. Ruth Bryan Leavitt, a married lughter. iOLDIERS' UNEXPECTED ALLY. ow a Mohammedan Holy Man Came o the Rescue of a British Regiment. Sir D. C. Drury-Lowe, who recentdied, a veteran of Crimea, the Muny, the Zulu and Egyptian wars, aa one of the leaders of the forced arch to Cairo, which made Its way r sixty-five miles across the desert id consummated the victory of Tel-Keblr. A curious Incident Is told this campaign. The story lllusates the absolute and superstitious votlon of the Arabs to their rellon. Arabl Pasha had concentrated s forces near the English camp, le British soldiers were a queer oking set In their rough, loose, Jacks, dusty and muddy, their growing lards, their dirty belts and helmets, it the strictest discipline was malnIned. The men were steady, cheer1. patient to endure the scanty od, filthy water and the heat and ist. A canal ran close to their line of itrenchments, from which they got elr water. Arabl dammed this call and cut a deep drain by which he tended to let out the water Into the illey and so make it impossible for ie British to get their supply. A few days before the final battle ie British engineers were astonlshI to find the water In the canal rlsg. The tendency before had been a pld decrease from consumption and aporation. As every one knew the inal was dammed, they supposed e only solution of the mystery was U ~ VtU A A II n A tti uic i imiiK wi uir imu iinru e canal above the level of the dam id that the water was pouring over The Increase was availed of at ice: the lock was opened and the vel of the water raised. The true solution of this Increase water never entered the European Ind. Later it was discovered. Arahl asha had cut the dan. A dervish, or >ly man, much venerated, had come the camp. He had heard of the lildlng of the dam and pronounced contrary to the faith. He declared at although the British soldiers ere infidel dogs they were still God's eatures and should not be made to iffer and that the divine blessing >uld be expected only if the water ere set free. Arabl was a devout Moslem, and he stantly complied with the dervish's >cislon.?Youth's Companion. NEGROS BANDIT LEADER. it Trick to Secure the Allegiance of the Superstitious Islanders. A war of extermination against the indits in the island of Xegros, in the hilippines, with the killing of seval hundred natives, is the prediction the Rev. Harry Maxfleld, mlsaion y of the Tabernacle Baptist church this island, who is now at home on f it rl mi ch "The bandits of the island gave the laniards trouble for eight years, id it was only a year ago that our oops wiped out the leader and broke j the band," said the Rev. Mr. Max>ld. "The leader of the band was an : driver named Dlonlci, who was op essed by the Spaniards in 1890 and ;d to the hills, where he quickly ithered a band around him. The ind he later increased to several indrcd men. In 1900 he could musr 2.000 men. "He found that it was difficult to ?vern such a large band of wild and lruly spirits and so he manufacturI a scheme of worship. He dressed le of his lieutenants in a black suit, it a mosquito net over him, and tween the mosquito net and the it placed thousands of huge flrees. "Then he manufactured a mechanal device to slide up and down, by hich' this man slid down during the ght. making It appear as though he me from the heavens and as ough he were clothed in fire. The mdlts thought he was the Lord, id when he spoke every one grovell1 on the ground. The manufactured rd then appointed Daniel his mounin pope and called him Papa Ysio. "After that the bandits, who were ry superstitious, obeyed every comand. Every time they began to for>t their obedience Yncenlos, the anufaetured god. would appear and ighten them again. Finally they ere stirred up to such a fanatical enzy that they would do anything r the pope. In a battle with Spanh troops in 1896, 200 soldiers were lied. When the Americans took the lands Papa Ysio was at his height, it the troops drove him into the ountains. Later the troops were relied from the islands and the na,*e scouts left in charge."?Seattle jst-Intelligencer. THE ATLANTIC CABLE. The Various Attempts to Lay it That Failed. The 17th of next August Is the fiftieth anniversary of the sending of the first cable message across the Atlantic. The message was of ninety words, from Queen Victoria to President Buchanan. It took sixty-seven minutes to transmit. It was the first tangible proof that one of the greatest attempts of man in the field of science had succeeded. When a little company of men, under the leadership of Cyrus W. Field, began to organize for the purpose of bringing the Old World and the New within speaking distance of each other by means of a protected thread of wire across the Atlantic they were hooted at as madmen. Capitalists who invested their money in the scheme were thought by their friends to have become beroft of reason. Few imagined the feat possible. By formal agreement, on Sept. 29, 1856, the Atlantic Telegraph company was organized. Its object was "to lay, or cause to be laid, a submarine cable ' across the Atlantic." Among those prominent in the forming of the company were Peter Cooper, Chandler White, Moses Taylor, Marshall O. Roberts and Cyrus W. Field. The first step in the programme was to be the laying of a cable across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, from Cape Ray Cove to Cape North. The first trial was disastrous, because of a furious storm, but in the following year the cable was successfully laid. Newfoundland was to be the western terminus. Assistance was obtained from the United States, Newfoundland and English governments. The .United States frigate Niagara, which was detailed to assist in submerging the cable, went to England, April 24, 1857. The coiling of a cable in Liverpool occupied three weeks. A strand of seven copper wires, composing the conductor, occupied the centre. There was a gutta percha Insulation, a covering of specially prepared hemp, and then the outer covering of iron wire, for protecting the cable. , Five large cones were arranged In the hold of the Niagara, round which the cable was colled. The length carried made a total of 1,204 miles. The remainder was carried by the English ship Agamemnon. 1,700 nautical miles being required between the termini at Newfoundland and Ireland. Qno/tlollir --j " ? ^|/vv.uiij vuiiou uviru aiiu <JUlllpiicuiru apparatus was designed for paying out and, If need be, winding In the cable. Nature seemed to favor the project for extending along the bed of the ocean, exactly between the two points to be connected, Is a great plateau, like an Immense prairie, stretching over an extent of 1,400 miles from east to west, with an average depth of about two miles. As It approaches the Newfoundland coast it Is entirely free from the effects of Icebergs which ground on shallow bottoms. In every other part the Atlantic is characterized by abrupt declivities and mountain heights. Another advantage was found In the deposit of infusoria, covering the bottom In abundance. The material showed a tendency to unite with the Iron wire protecting the cable, thus forming a concrete mass, making In effect a bed of down for the cable to rest upon. The landing of the cable In Dolus bay was successfully accomplished on the 6th of August, 1857. Never before had such a mass of people assembled on the shores of that bay. They came from miles around?from their huts on the steep hillsides and the mountain passes, from the storied scenes of Klllarney In the interior and the bleak coast in the south. It was a great day for all. Five days the Niagara sailed, overcoming great difficulties in the laying of the cable; then, on the sixth day, when the Niagara had left the shore 300 miles behind, a mistaken order to put on brakes resulted In a strain which broke the cable. There was nothing to do but return to England. The Niagara sailed for New York the following November. Of course, a great cry was raised that the scheme had been fairly tried once and failed, and that any further attempt to achieve this Impossibility was madness and a criminal waste of the stockholders' money. But In the face of all this opposition,- the little band of resolute men, led still by the indomitable Cyrus W. Field, determined to make another attempt. They had learned by their experience many valuable lessons. One was that it would be better for the two vessels carrying the cable to meet in midocean, make a splice and then sail in opposite directions. Other lessons related to Improvements in the paying-out machinery?it was found impossible to wind in the cable after It was once out, as the very ^weight of the line was sufficient to break It. The telegraph squadron arrived at Plymouth, England, June 3, and after an experimental trip of three days. having received a fresh supply of coal, started for midocean on the 10th, the point of rendezvous having been decided. . When the splice was finished connecting the cable of the Niagara with that of the Agamemnon, the two vessels parted, A terrible storm cams up soon afterward, and after 142 miles and 280 fathoms of cable had been paid out the line broke. It was only by good fortune that the vessels returned to land In safety. While the squadron was lying In the harbor of Queenstown, meetings were held by the board of directors In London. It was proposed to abandon the enterprise and sell the cable. When the news of this reached Mr. Field he started In great haste for London. He remonstrated with the despondent, upheld the wavering and finally, by his will and courage, obtained consent to make another attempt. The vessels accordingly, met again at the rendezvous on July 28, and after making the splice with some ceremony, separated. Anxiety was keen, as a kink in the cable or a hole running through the gutta percha through which not even a hair could be forced would render all the work unavailing. On Aug. 5. 1858, the eastern end of I the cable was landed in Trinity bay, Newfoundland, and the press of the country sounded loud praises in honor of the triumph. On Aug. 17 the famous messages were sent and received by cable between Queen Victoria and President Buchanan. Concerning the message, one of the electricians on board the Niagara Is reported to have made the statement that it was "cooked up" for commercial purposes, his ground being that the cable had ceased to test long brt"o-o reaching Newfoundland, and tht.i on several occasions in paying It out ac. had occurred that had destroyed ine insulation of the cable. ?Boston Herald.