A WOMAN'S
INFLUENCE.
JF. , V |
CHAPTER XXII.
jj" A HASTY WOBD AND ITS FCNISHMEXT.
Dr. Philips, whose recognized partner
Brian became, had known him from the
hour of his birth, and on this accountt
and because, too, of the deep friendship
fm- hie father took more'
ViilUl Mliliiyu * V* 4MU avrrMv*, ? ?
thap u6ual interest in him.
"I want to see in you the worthy sue-)
cessor of my old friend,"he 6aid ond
day. "You can work out an honorably
career, and you 6hould. You owe it
inot only to his memory but aisoto that
dear, sweet wife of yours. Let her be?
? 1t nmmiapri vour father
your lUBpii axivu. f *
when he was dying that I would act the
fart of a friend to her. I don't believe
can do that more effectually than by
helping you."
"The old rflfrain, Doctor. In all that
ie done for me, I see Margaret a6 the
prompting motive. This prevents any
feeling of conceit on my part, and I am
willing that she shall have the welldeserved
credit, but, nevertheless, my
windless sails flap rather dolefully."
^ ..^1- i.
"Dr. Philips says I have a dear, sweet
wife. "What do you think of that, Margaret?"
: "That he is a man given to overpraise,"
replied Margaret, glancing up
from the scarf she was embroidering.
' A mirto mon tVioilt/h " RhA arldfid.
A ? Ci J U1VV UJUM) hMV ? ? ? T
turning to her work once more. "So
good to me and so good to you."
He was standing behind her chair,
and bent hie head to look into her eye6.
Nervous under such close contact she
started up, and made a pretense of arranging
some books upon a small table.
i The sigh with which his eye followed
her awakened in her heart some twings
of remorse for what, she felt obliged to
confess, was an unreasonable betrayal
of ill-huumor.
"Come back to your chair, Margaret.
jYou can be very cruel sometimes.'
| "Have you any right to blame me,
Brian?"
A glance at his face made her regret
this question the second it passed her
lips, but before ehe could recall it tie
had left the room, with the words destined
to echo in her heart through many
long, bitter days.
"No, Margaret. No right at all. I
eee your love is cot for me."
i A few minutes later she heard the
k?oun4 of his horse's hoofs on the drive
outside, it was too late now. She
must wait until his return. Then she
would tell him how sorry ehe was.
She wondered why the moments
dragged so heavily, scarcely an hour
had passed since Brian had left her; it
seemed more like three. The sound of
some disturbance down 6tairs came to
her ears. With a nervous Btart she
listened anxiously. There was no mistaking
the hurried footsteps and subdued
voices. Something unusual had
happened.
With a mind filled with terrible dread,
and a heart beating to almost suffocation,
6he flew down the steps, along the
hall, and into the library, and there
No need to ask the matter now. During I
a second, in which 6he seemed to die a I
hundred deaths, she took in the white
face " and still form upon the sofa, and
then, without even a cry, but with an
expression that fixed itself indelibly
upon the minds of those who saw it,
Bhe knelt beside this remnant of the
life and strength of an hour before, and,
taking the cold hands between her own,
6oothed and pressed them in her effort
to bring back their lost warmth. Poor
hands! a little while ago she had shrunk
from their contact, ana now they were all
powerless, too helpless to respond even
to her touch; yet she would still hold
them, and, perhaps, after a time he might
XeeL She would lay her heart on his,
he would hear its beating and might
understand. Sh-i would
"Margaret."
' She heard her name repeated softly;
ehe felt a gentle touch upon her shoulder,
and a strong hand lifting her from
her crouching position; and she raised
her face, haggard an 1 drawn with suffering,
to meet Dr. Philips' sympathetic
glance.
"Don't give way," he said kindly, seeing
the question in her eyes. "We must
get him to his room, and meanwhile we
may hoDe that things are not so had as
they 6eem."
"Poor child," he murmured after he
had left her; "and poor Briun. I little
thought, when I saw Mm so wen ana i
strong yesterday, that to-day he would
be so near death. A sad ending to his
young career."
While Margaret sat by Brian's bed,
trying in the pain and remorse which
filled her heart to overflowing to make
the most of the few attentions she could
lavish upon him, a thought came to her
like a ray of hope.
"I will ask him to come," she said
under her breath. "I will ask him to
come. Did you call me, Brian?" She
bent over the bed and gazed mutely
npjn the motionless face. No, Brian
liad not called, and with a heartbroken
Bigh she turned away to write the telegram
which was to tell Wilson of
Brian's danger.
j And three hours later Wilson came.
Well might Margaret eav, as her hand
rested in his sympathetic clasp:
"I felt so sure that you would come.
Tour presence gives me strength and
hope. I feel that he will be safe in
jour hands."
~ "As safe as these hands can make
Ifclrn, Mrs. Leigh. Please God, your
confidence will not be misplaced."
| Margaret herself scarcely realized the
iexteni of this confidence until she had
taken Wilson to Brian's room, and
waited with a suspense that amounted
to agony the opinion which she felt
would mean so much.
She watched his face anxiously, but
It revealed little, and only by u subtle
Intuition did she understand ihat he
considered Brian's state most critical.
With the last gb'arn of hope dying
from her heart, she followed him from
the room.
"The truth," sho pleaded, pressing
Iher hand to her ejes. "The whole
i+nith Ah' vnn hesitate. That is more
cruel still. I can bear the truth best."
I "Poor child," he answered. "You must
(not give way to this despair. Yet,
since you ask me io:- the truth, I will
[not deceive you. Brian's condition ia
jmost precarious. The odds are all
lagainst him. He has but one bare
chance."
"He has one chance," she repeated,
snatching at this straw of hope. "Then,
Doctor, we will make the rr.ost of that
ore chance. He cannot fight for himself:
we must fight for him."
"We will tight f<r him," was "Wilson's
reply. "Your courage and bravery must
."Win, and I shall exercise all my skill
Aid-d ! - ^ r;> _
ana an my experience ror Mm. I enall1
wire immediately for a professional j
nurse, and since we are to work together j
I need only remind you of the necessity t
to keep your health and strength." t
"Let me slay with him," she replied, ^
with an effort to compromise, "and I t
promise to be docile in all elsd. Ah, I
see Bertie. He has heard." ,
Yes, Bertie had heard; and Bertie, as ^
asual, could not hide his feelings as he rj
gave Margaret messages of sympathy
from the friends whose hearts were s
oever more tryly hers than in thi6 hour r
of her trouble. 1
CHAPTER XXIII.
the shadow of death.
Two days passed ?^d no change came.
The sun lay worm and bright on the
lawn outside. The birds 6un? their v
same 6weet song. The "breath of flowers ^
perfumed the summer air, and the un- T
equal battle between life and death still ?
went on in the darkened room.
Bertie sometimes sat up to relieve t
Wilson and the nurse, but Margaret p
gave way to none.
"It is only the beginning," she said, 6
in answer to Wilson's expostulations. c
'"Let me stay now. After awhile I wiil T
sleep." And "Wilson, yielding, she ]
spent three nights in a weary vigil, but t
when the fourth came nature would g
stand no more. v
Sho could no longer endure the rav
lngs of a delirium which brought the t
past so sharply and vividly before her. ,?
1!?* 4v.? u
OXIC VJUU1U XiWU Iiowu tv tilC 0IV4UCUU ^
S leadings for love in such weak and ^
roken sentences, nor hear her own re- t
proach, so doubly cruel, repeated by his f
unthinking lips. t
"Oh, for the power to live it over k
again," she cried in the anguish of her
heart. "Oh, for one moment of con- g
eciousness in which he might under- ),
stand." fi
The sleep Induced by bodily weariness u
was deep and long, and it was quite late
the next morning whtn Margaret reach- i)
ed Brian's room. s
"^Jeon met her with an encouraging 6
smile.
"He has been very quiet," he said,
noting the question in her eyes. "I
managed to snatch several hours'
sleep." a:
The hours passed slowly. The silence si
was unbroken except by the humming of ti
the bees outside the window, for even a
Brian's complaiuings were stilled for l'<
the time. Once he murmured Margaret's 1<
name and 6he felt hi6 eyes upon her
face, but there was no intelligence in d
them, only the dullness of delirium. c>
After a little while he began once more d
to give expressions to his fevered fan- Q
cies. *
It was always Margaret and the shad- J1
rttrr Haf-nraim thom ATnrfrarAt. rpnrnn.p.hina **
or repulsing him, or Margaret helpful
and encouraging. E
And Margaret could only sit and
listen; though when his sharp cry rang t'
through the silcnce of the room, "Mar- r;
garet, I can't see you; where are you, j<
Margaret?" she placed her head beside
him, and answered In low, wretched ac- 6
cent9: g
"Here, Brian; close beside you. Can't v
you feel my hands? They are holding' n
yours." i a
Did her voice penetrate that dull n
brain? For one second she thought so.
But no. The heavy eyes turned from ^
her face. t]
"Han-is! Who said hands? Oh, yes; I
remember now. You said it, Margaret.| 0
Don't you know you said it? Your hand; p
would be in mine. Do you?think of?
the night? And I said?ah, I?said? f,
what did I?say?" y
His voice sank away in an unintel- q
iigible muttering. A few seconds of ^
silence and his mind wandered again. a
He was fighting his old battles now,
and calling upon Margaret for sympathy' j,
and help. h
And in an anguish that could find no
other expression, she buried h?r face j
in the pillow bc6ide_him. T
"I can't bear it, I can't bear it!" sr.e j
cried, passionately. ^
"Bear it," repeated the weak voice, j
"Bear it? Ah, no; I can't bear your
contempt. You are?so hard; 60 hard?.
upon me. No right to?reproach you.
No right?at?all." Her head 6ank j.
lower. She could find no answer to
these bitter complainings. T
Suddenly she felt a hand upon her ^
shoulder, and raising her miserable face r
she saw Wilson standing over her.
"Will you come out in the air for a i
few moments?" he said, with quiet authority.
"The weather is pleasant, j
Thomas will take care of Brian."
With a sort of mechanical obedience (
she followed him to the broad piazza,',
where the pure air, warm sun and odor 1
of sweet flowers seemed doubly grateful
after the close atmosphere of the
6ick room. (
He was silent for some seconds. Evi
dently he found it difficult to put his '
thoughts in suitable language. '
She saw and understood his hesitation.
"I know what you would say," she
broke in, covering her face with her
hands. "I know so well. You have
heard Brian. You understand. And
you must realize now what a hard, unkind,
undutifui wife I've been.
"What a "
"Hush," he interrupted, in a strange
voice. "I must not allow even your lips
to say such unkind word6 ubuut youreeif.
They are not deserved. You lay
too much stress upon what he says,
forgetting that it is only the raving of
delirium. Brian has made me his confidant
?nd I feel that I can judge.
"You cannot know all," she answered,
pressing her hands together. "You ;
cannot know of the hundred little thing9 i
?the motions, expressions, word6?all ]
meaning so much. You cannot know of
'-* T J- T-l- ? ho. ,
them, out 1 UU. iurj on: ?I?1.JO j
fore me, and the last day?the very last ,
day?I Bpoke unkindly. I shall never
forget it? never. I saw that it hurt
"nirn. I intended to (ell him I was sorry. ,
I had no chance. They brought him j
back so. Now he cannot know; he can* i
not understand that I would suffer any
'pain for a moment of consciousness to <
tell bim I am sorry. God will not granb
me even that?not even that." ,
' "Why will you think of all these (
things?" he asked, presently. "Is, it not (
Human to be a uttie unwind sometimes? 1
Then look at the other side also. <
What you have done for Brian. We
must not bewail the past, but go on I
bravely to meet the future, promising
ourselves always to do better and bet- 1
ter. You want to go in now?" i
"Yes, Doctor. I feel stronger, and I J
thank you."
The days passed, bringing but little
perceptible change in Brian's condition.
But the crisis came at last.
Gradually the fever spent itself, and
the tired frame, wearied with its long
struggle, 6ank into a stupor so deathlike
that only the faint heart beats
told that life was still there.
Uargaret knew that tie would either
waken with a new lease of life or pass
Into that deeper sleep that knows no
waking on this 6ide of eternity. She
"watched and waited, and prayed for the
ions; hours to pass.
The shadows of night, which seemed
to have held the anguish of years, gave
pioee to the light of dawn. Ihe lines
of blue grew deeper and deeper in the
eust, the rim of the rising sun rested
upon the bruW of ihe hills, and the distant
crowing of a cogk, welcoming the
open'ng day, came like a clarion note
through the silence.
it i ear. He turned I
uneasily. Margaret was od her knees
iu a second, a feeling half joy, half fear
clutching at her heart. She bent her
fa<;e cloie to hi6. _
Perhaps he realized her presence, for I
le turDod again and moaned slightly. (
iis waking mind was struggling for |
ompreheneion, his eyelids trying to !
hrow off the heaviness that held them j
lown. At last they opened slightly, j
hen wider, and their slow wandering ;
;aze fell upon Margaret's face, a face j
rhite and drawn from long and anxious j
patching, but revealing a story of love.
Those eyes were not slow to read.
"Thank God," murmured Brian, with j
in effort to overcome his intense weakiess.
"Margaret, you ? love me ? at
ast?"
With a cry of passionate joy she burial j
ler face upon his breast.
"Oh, Brian, so much! so much that I
ould not live w.thout you."
"Thank GoJ," he said again, in a
coo^'filr qKavq a wVitcnor rpt j
'ibrating with such inexpressible happi- j
less that it reached Wilson, as he stolo j
ilently from the room.
"Youjhave found your true place at last, ;
ay darliug, ray wife. Your true resting
ilace. It is a weak defense now."
"It is my cho6en rest and support," >
he answered, with brimming eyes,
atehing and holding in its place the
reak arm that had tried to clasp her so j
io tt7qoL- nnw hilt. it. will
JV XV AO nvua ~
>e strong soon.. Let me lean upon its
trength always. Let me have your .
leart, as you have mine, fully and en*
irelr. Phi II ceald Uus uai? *
rl?d to tell you tms, as I sat by yon
uring those hours when you could not j
inderstand; how often I laid my heart
ipon yours, hoping you might hear its
>eating, and maybe realize that it was
ull of love for you! You did not know 1
ben, but you know now, and?you may [
;i*s your wife."
Brian could not speak, but his eyea
IIpH -with finrnathinff strancrelv like '
ears, as she held her loving, blushing
ace for the long, tender kiss he left
pon her lips.
Neither spoke again. With his hand
n Margaret's, Brian was content to lie
till until overcome by weakness he 1
lept.
CHAPTER XXJ V.
BA.CHEL'8 C0NTES8I0X.
Brian at first was content to lie still I
nd watch Margaret, but as he gTew (
troqger he would ask her to sing or :
ilk to him, and then would she tell him
gain and again of the bitter reg^t and
jmorse which had filled those three
)Hg miserable weeks.
"How cruel I was," he whispered. "I
id not know what I was eaying. I j
ould never reproach you. You have j
one more for me than I can ever speak
f. Always my true, loyal wife. Always
making sacrifices for me. It was j
uch a dear, tender heart that I longed
or just a tender spot in it."
"A very proud heart," she correoted
ently.
" n?ianmntimoa And had it been a
aousand times more proud I should foret
it all in the joy of possessing It at
3.61."
"You have possesBod it all the time,"
he confessed, burying her face from his
lance. "It has been yours since we
' ere together at S'conset, Brian. I did
ot realize it myself, but now I know,
nd am glad of the suffering that taught
le."
"Ah, darling, that I have been bo ]
lind. When you married me I
bought "
"Yes, Brian, so did I think. My sense
f justice felt outraged by uncle Stehen^s
will, and 1 persuaded myself
bat 1 was marrying you iv luaa.*.- aucuuo |
or that, and all the while my love for
ou was pleading so much more elo- (
iuently than my love of justice. I have j
;ept it back so long I wish you to know j
.11 the truth now."
Hi6 eyes filled with an inexpressible
oy, as he lovingly stroked her bowed I
iead.
"Rachel has made her confession at
ast," he said, softly, "and Jacob would
rillingly live over his sufferings again
or the pleasure of hearing such sweet
Fords. He is very happy now, for h^ i
eels that this is his true wedding day, |
md hie life lies betore mm.
August was nearly gone, and he was
inly able to sit in his chair and allow
ler to wait upon him.
They were together so one morning
rhen a messenger arr.ved from The
Cedars with a note for Margaret. She
ead it hastily, and, with a radiant face
ind the words "I am so glad," handed
t to Brian.
"Good news," he said, taking it from
ler hand and reading the word6 aloud:
"Another Bertie came somewhat unsxpectedly
with the sun this morning.
Vlice hopes you will pay your immedi. a
rocnonts tn his lordshiD.
"Bertie, Sr."
"Bertie is evidently in the fifth heavoo
)f delight." commented Brian. "Carry
ny congratulations, Margaret. I suppose
you are going."
Margaret, of course, fell in love with
:he tiny bit of humanity, and fully
igreed with Alice that Cuthbert Barton
luniur was a very fine-looking young
nan. She even fancied she discovered
i likeness to Bertie, though not u par;icularly
striking one, as she told Brian
ifterwanl.
fipnteniber came in very cool and the
nvigorating air seemed to infuse new
.ife into Brian's veins.
"You will not be able to Impose upon
Be much longer," he said to Margaret,
3ne morning. "I'll be strong enough to
rebel ugainst your tyranny soon."
"As soon as you like, Brian," she answered,
looking up from the roses she
bad placed on tho table beside him. "I
think I've played nurse long enough,
[f you do not get well very soon you
will grow so fat and lazy that I'll never
L?e able to get you out of that chair."
He looked up into the face, which
tiad never seen.ed more sweet and lov*?.!?.
and catchine her hand held it a
prisoner within his own.
"Never mind," he said, "wait until I
im out of this for good. Then I mean
to take my dear little nurse in hand
ind make her fat and lazy, too. I
want to see some roses in her white
:-heeks."
"I don't think you will ever be able to
joax them there, Brian. It is not their
element, but the nurse feels that slio
desires some petting and coddling; sho
has given you so much. What can ?he
Jo for you now' Head?"
"No," my dear; talk. I am a great
trial, am i not?"
"Oh, yes, a dreadful trial," sho returned
with a half smile. "But," she
added softly, "I could never do without
my iruu.
He caught her hand as she uttered the
Inst words and drew her unresistingly
to his knee.
Then came a sharp and unexpe. ted
interruption, in Bertie's voice:
"Hello, there! I don't want to disturb
such interesting proceedings, but 1
would like to know how so<m the public
may t> Admitted. Such ?-ivilities "
" You are extremely impudent," cried
Margaret, startim; to her feet with a
brilliant blush. "If you do not learn
better manners I shall drop your acquaintance."
"Please don't, ma'am, I need yourpro
tection sadly. My respected father ha?
just sent rue from his presence with a
parting injunction to visit n certain
gentleman who is credited with warm
quarters. I prefered coming here.
And, by the way, Brian, I've been commissioned
to inform you that you hav?
bei?n indulging your laziness long
enough, and, therefore, you aro expected
to pay your respects at The Cedars
to-night.
" 'Tell Margaret to c ome and bring her
nusiwnu UldUg, uic "V?-40U1 mj
venerable father. So, Margaret, please
dojis xou are bid," i
*
* .
"I wish you could ibe more ^Ugnifled,
Bertie, f or a husband and u father
you are sadly -wanting in that quality."
For answer, Bertie laughed. "How .
are you, old fellow?" he asked, taking
Brian'6 hand. "Able to assert your1
authority?"
".sot quite. I've just teen warnin/j
Margaret that the t.me is not far disj ^
lauf when 1 shall assume the reins of
government.''
"She looks quite miserable over the
prospect," returned Bertie, with his
eyes on Margaret's laughing face. "I
saw Wilson when I was in the city a
day or two ago. He inquired very particularly
about you, and Margaret al6o.
told him you were doing finely, and
that Margaret was as unmanageable as
fever." ?
"1 shall be revenged for that, sir. 1
Wa6 Dr. Wilson well?" 1
"I can't say he looked very well," an- <
ewered Bertie, with some hesitation. (
"He works too hard, I think. He is :
certainly very pale and thin."
""Why not write and Invite him here
for awhile?" said Brian, turning to Mar- 11
garet. "This air would infuse new life 1
in his veins." <
"He needs It certainly," observed
Bertie. "He has not seemed quite natural
for some time. I'm afraid he is
losing hie old happy spirits."
"We will ask him to come," said Margaret,
quickly, "though I fear he cannot
give ub any of his valuable time.
When I think of what he has done for
J-ou, Brian. I do feel so grateful to him,
and I should like nothing so well as to
ilnd him such a true, good wife as he deBerv?s."
"Margaret turned matoh-maker,"
mused Bertie. "She becomes more in*
tcresting and original every day. I
will tell WilBon to get himself in readlhess,
and meantime, my dear, I hope
you will search diligently for the
particular woman destined to become
his blessing and torment at the
same time. Now I mu6t be off. I
suddenly remember that Alice sent
me for some mixture for that young
hopeful of ours, and if I don't hurry,
he may bawl his head off."
"You outrageously unfeeling man.
If I bad known you were on any buch
errand, you shouldn't have staid
here a second. That poor little innocent
may be actually suffering for his
medicine."
"No more than you, my dear," laughed
Bertie. "It is simply the Barton
temper asserting itself. Even father
recognizes it, and while he accepts retributive
justice in a meek and lowly
spirit, it sometimes gives way to a mild
ejaculation, such as 'thunder' when
Bertie grows particularly demonstraHnnr/iror
T'll OO f. t.hfl HfiPOCtion
and say good-byto you until to-night."
A day or so later, Margaret sent to'
"Dr. Wili-on a warm and pressing Invitation
to spend at least a few days atElm(wood.
Wilson found the letter awaiting
him when he reached his rooms after a: '
Jong day's work, and, though his fane
>rightened at the sight of it, he did not i
kccept the tempting pleasure offered, ,
and his regrets, not himself, found their
way to Elmwood.
The letter found a plac* In a corner of 1
his desk, and It was still there when J
time had whitened his hair and his eyes I
were dim from something more than |
sweet old memories.
CHAPTER XXV. |
AFTER TWO YEARS.
Two vears have passed, and brought
their inevitable changes. The seasons
have come and gone. The flowers have
bloomed and died and bloomed again,
and once more Elmwood is crowned in
the full beauty of the month of roses.
It is late in the afternoon, and for
Borne time Margaret has been waiting
Brian'6 coming. Her eyes are fixed alternately
upon the long drive and upon
the little face sleeping peacefully in her
arms.
Maternity, that perfect oompletion of
woman's nature, has given her a new
grace and dignity, and left upon her
life the impress of a happiness that
even the shadow of old sorrows cannot
lessen.
Indeed, the sorrows are never remembered,
except in a philosophical sort of
way, and in the realization of all that
she hoped and expected she feels that
- * * * 1 -J
they nave Drougnian am jut* rewmu.
'' Brian has fully redeemed his pledge,
and, with a life full of higher and nobler
purpose, is walking faithfully in his
I father's fo itstepp, and winning the
same honor and respact.
| He comes home with a light heart this
I evening, and seeing Margaret, leaps
from his carriaee to take her in his arms
and kiss the two faces with warm and
tender love.
"Are you very tired?" she asks, lookIn?
into his eyes.
"So, so. It has been ^arm in the village,
but here It is quite delightful.
Poor Mrs. Ellis is down a!?ain for good,;
I fear, this time, anl Brown has an attack
of influenza. He is more frightened
than hurt. I think, and more trouble- |
ieome than either. He fancies I am not
giving him sufficient medicine, and insists
on taking a double dose. His wife
has quite a time with him.
, "What have you been doing with yourself,
Margaret? Not trying any of yesterday's
experiments, I hope. Give
ane Marguerite; she is growing quite
jheavy. You must not try to carry her
any more, dear. I will take her to Milly
and we will walk to that hill to see the
?un set. It i6 really superb."
When the baby had been given into
ithe care of its nurse, Margaret linked
[her arm in Brian's, and they walked toward
the place he had pointed out.
"I have a piece of news which will
Jplease you, I know. Wilson has at last
made up his mind to come to us for a
[week. We may expect him about the
21st, he says."
"I am so glad," Margaret answered,.
1 m.,c> mnl-n,
Wlin genuine It-'enuy. nv muoi, muuv
it such a delightful week that he will,
want to repeat it. It is really quite
curious, I think. But, do you know, I
never naa sucn a strong desire to see
any one married as I have to see hiru?1
1 know it would make such a happy1
difference in his life."
"I suppose j*ou think that the only1
happy state for man?"
! "1 hope you do," she replied, meeting
his laughing glance.
"It should be, and, as a rule, I think
it is; the exceptions are individual cases.
To ray mind a poor, lonely old bachelor
trying to persuade himself that he is
fortunate in having escaped the evil of
Jiatrimony is a most doleful and pitiable
spectacle. Ah, how glorious!''
The last words were uttered as they
reached the summit of the hill and th<>
full splendor of tho sunset burst upon
them.
Thej* stood for a row seconds in silence,
watching the globe of fire sinking
in a s. a of golW. Then Margaret
Stole more closely to his side with the
words:
"It seems to hold the peace of benoiiction,
Hrian."
"A benediction," he repeated, slipping
his arm about her waist and holding her
to his heart. "Ah, may we always feel
the peace of such a benediction, darj
ling. May we always stand together as
wo are standing now, through better
f and through worse; ever firm in each
other's trust; ever strong in each other's
love. And when our suns snail set,
may our skies be as calm and as tranquil
as this glorious one before us.
?Oh. tranquil sunset of the soul,
When all the Jar of earth Is past;
When storms no longer round us roll,
And heaven Is near at ihm ,
We know, thounb fail and faint we may.
Calm suiiset ends tho longest day."
[the end.]
SWEDEN'S SHOW. \
i
nternational exposition at 1
STOCKHOLM NEXT MAY. 1
(
1
Flie Four Northern Countries, Swe- {
den, Norway, Denmark and i
Finland, Will Join tc I
Make It a Success,
(
ONE of the leading events in :
Enrope next summer will be ]
the great Scandinavian Ex- :
position, which opens in
l+n/tlrVs\lm TlPXt MftV. tC COn*
;inue until October. For almost the
irst time in history the four northern
countries?Sweden, Norway, Denmark
ind Finland?speaking in part a com- :
mon language and having for over fif- I
teen centuries been historically connected,
both as allies and foes, having
a close relationship in the folk-lore,
J
INDUSTRIAL AND MANUFACTURES Bt
traditions, poetry, music and the
traits that distinguish the descendants
of the old Norsemen?are found
united as one Nation for a peaceful
rivalry in the pursuits of art, science
and industry.
The distinguishing trait of tho
Scandinavian character in reflection,
and the idea of tbis exposition, the
greatest and most complete ever
planned in any European country,
with the exception of the Paris expositions,
has required more than
OSCAR II., KINO OP SWEDEN*.
twenty-five years to find a realization,
it having been first suggested in 1870.
During this quarter of a century it
has been talked about, written about,
been the pet subject of royalty, statesmen,
artists, men of affairra and the
people generally. The promoters
hove had a herculean task before them.
National jealousies and idiosyncrasies
bad to be overcome, a thousand and
one objections arose, but finally every
was smoothed over and plans
and details agreed on. The beauty of
the bnildiDgs ns they are now rapidly
assuming form, the situation of the
exposition and the enthusiasm shown
by the Nationalities interested, all
make promise that the exposition will
be in every way a success.
It is no exaggeration to state that
the influence of the World's Fair at
Ch'cago on the future expositions of a
similar nature in Europe in an architectual
sense can never be fully estimated.
Of the large expositions Bince
the World's Fair closed which have
taken place or are to take place in
Europe at a future date?the Bordeaux,
the Buda-Pestb, the Berlin, the
Malmo, the Swiss, and now the Stockholm
Rmnaritinn?all show in their
artistic and architectual planning a
certain indescribable influence from
the white dream city of 1893, while
still adhering to each country's individual
taste in art. In former
European expositions the rule was to
gather everything under one roof, but
now they seem to recognize the idea
that separate buildings, while increasing
the preliminary expenses, add to
the beauty and attractiveness of the expositions
and also increase the revenue.
At Stockholm the Industrial and
Manufactures Building will occupy a
space of 500 square feet. The towers
it ^4^22
" ART PALACE AND MACHINERY I
will have a height of ll>0 feet, two of
them being provided with elevators.
The other buildings?such as the Art
Palace, the Northern Museum, the
Electrical, Military, Naval, Historical,
Mines, Horticultural, Agricultural and
Transportation Buildings?will all be
of a eizo to give u harmonious appear
ince to the whole group of buildfngfl. E
Che Art Palace and the Fishery Build- ei
ng are already completed; the Mann* p:
'actures BuildiDg aod Machinery Hall el
will be finished before winter sets in, w
ind the remaining buildings will all ft
je completed before next March. The t]
grounds will be laid out with all the e:
skill of the landscape gardener's art T
lided by nature. e
Another important event of the ex- tl
position period will be the dedication o
Df the new Royal Opera House, a mag- d
nificent structural pile, even in com- v
parison with the Grand* Opera House ti
in Paris. Stockholm has been called p
the Venice of the North; and, in o
truth, no capital in Europe is more o
beautifully situated. The exposition fi
has been placed in the handsomest
part of the suburban park-like snr- li
roundings. In a general view of the C
Stockholm-Exposition the beauty of a
the location is at once seen. With its S
two sea fronts, one on the Deergarden c
Park Sound and the other on the salt p
r
s
fftiiilh
WK?" j
riLD ING?STOCKHOLM EXPOSITION. J
- J
water of the Gulf of Bothnia, and its !
charming continuance to the royal ]
park of the Deergarden, it will be not
alone an exponent of Scandinavian art
and industry, but also an exponent of
Swedish landscape nature for which
Stockholm is celebrated throughout
Europe.
The exposition will have two principal
entrances, one by the new boulevard
over the Deergarden Bridge, and
the marine entrance from the harbor.
^ ? Xlii-k T> nrvomr/lon AT!.
UOEQILlg ill KJJ l HO .ucci^ui uvu vm
trance, a vast plaisance laid out with
lawns, fountains, and flower beds j
meets the eye. Straight ahead in the
far distance is seen the picturesque '
front of the Manufactures Building,
with its towers and dome. Broad
avenues cross the plaisance, leading
to the various places and buildinge.
On a terrace close by the idyllic sound
is situated the principal restaurant
building. Following the sound promenade
to Framnae, the Fishery Building
is seen, and a more suitable place
could not have been found. Built
partly in the sound, it is surrounded
by a pontoon bridge, forming a charming
marine promenade. Further out
in the sound has been constructed an
artificial cavern on the bottom of the j
6ound, which will be one of the great ,
attractions of the exposition. Descend- j
ing to the bottom of the cavern the J
visitor will, through the electrically ,
lighted waters, through the windows ,
of the cavern, obtain an insight ioto ,
the existence of the fauna and the liv- (
ing creatures of the deep. ;
The Art Palace will no doubt be
architectuallv the most beautiful of ,
CROWN' PRINCE OP SWEDEN. :
the buildings. Erected in Moorish (
style, its marble-like walls reflected ,
in the grand canal at its side, with its ,
rich mural decorations, and the contrasting
with its close neighbor, the
Machinery Hall, it will form an attractive
architectural group. The interior
of the Art Palace in the space
reserved for sculpture, will be laid
out us a tropical garden, in which the
murble treasures will find a suitable j
[ALL,?STOCKHOLM EXPOSITION.
I ~ ~ I
frame, doing away with the conventional
museum-like appearance.
From the garden pillared entrances
will lead to the rooms reserved for
pictures. The art exhibition will be
universal. The most famous French,
Italian, German, English and American
artists will be represented. Prince
*
- ? .
ngene, Duke of Nerike, the youn^B
it son of King Oscar, himself
rominent landscape painter, ifi
aief of the art section, and recentl^^a
hile in Paris be met some of the mo^H
imous of the American painters, arJ^fl
ley made the Prince the promise
shibit at Stockholm nest snmmej^H
he Prince also stated that he intenc^H
d to visit the United States dcrin^H
tie fall to invite American artists an^H
wners of private galleries to exhib^H
uring the exposition. The Prince
ery democratic in his manners an^H
astes, and, while he may visit Ne\i^H
ort, he will expect to be receive^H
nly as a private gentleman, frowmn?|
n all attempts to 'make fo?S an^H
eatbers of his royal rank. Dm
The exposition will also have a poHj
itioal significance, as next year Eint^H
)scar will celebrate the twenty-fiftl^B
nniversary of his reign as ruler o|H
iweden. The jubilee will be the oc^H
ooion a orrn.r?<l dflmoniiitration on th^H
iffrt of the Swedes, and also by the^J
oyal families cf Europe, who have alH
ignified their intention to visi^J
:tockholm during the jubilee period^B
King Oscar has, of course, taken
;reat interest in the exposition, bothM
.s an artist and as the ruler of theH
onntrv. As Director-General of theH
xpositioD, the King appointed Mr.H
Arthur Leffler, the royal Swedish Com-fl
aiseioner to the World's Fair. ThaH
President of the exposition is Baronfl
Famm, the Governor-General offl
Stockholm, and the Secretary is thefl
roll Vnrtujn i/inTTm.1ififc. Thore Blanche.^1
In the United States thousands oi
Swedes are making arrangements tc
rieit Sweden during the exposition.
)f the societies going over, the most
mportant will be the American Unioi
>f Swedish Singers, of which Lyran
>f New York, and the Glee Club, o
Brooklyn, are prominent members
Che President is Mr. Charles K
fohansseo, editor of the Swedish news
japer in New York, Nordstjernan
Che union will be the official bearer
>f congratulatory addresses to Kinj
Dscar from the Swedish-Americans.?
!tew York Times.
'Largest Man in the World.
Mr. Wilkins, an American who rc
<oTitlv orViihitflfl liimRelf in the Or
'V*"V ~? ? ?
shenm, the most fashionable variet;
theatre in Vienna, has been pro
aonnced by the anatomists of the Vi
;nna University, with Dr. Zncket
sandl at their head, the largest mai
oi whose size there was a ecientifi
record. Especial weight is given t
THIS MAN IS EIGHT FEET TAIX. _ B
ibis declaration of the Vienna profes-j
jors because the Vienna Anatomicafl
Museum possesses the largest humanfl
skeletons, and the founder of this in-fl
jtitution, the late Eofratb LangerJ
ind his successor, Dr. ZackerkandlA
ire considered the highest authorities!
on the subject of giants. They pro-H
aonnced Mr. Wilkins remarkable, nofl
only on account of bis great size, bufl
also because his development is enfl
tirely normal, while, as a rule, giantA
are not well proportioned and they of!
ben buffer from 6ome weakness. Iifl
parting the professors told him that
he would examine the skeletons of th^|
museum he would soon be convince^!
of his own superiority. The horroi^B
of the grave need never worry hiu^l
for, unless he makes special provisioSB
igainst it, his skeleton is most certai^^H
ly destined to ornament some anato^H
ical museum. He is eight feet tal^|
and our engraving gives a very go<^|
idea of his height, for here he is shov^H
standing beside his impresario, a m^Hj
five feet ten inches tall.
A Rainbow Face. Hfl
A strange case in which local dc^H
tors, as well as scientists from the eu^H
rounding country, are interested
LUat Ul VJOUICUV UiUibU) vuivi VW|
Belvidere, N. J., who drives the pu^H
lie ice wagon at that place. Ae t^H
sky changes the face of the color^H
man takes on a different hue, and it^H
said that his face is slowly assumiBB
the hues' and colors of the rainbc^H
The doctors who have examined t^H
man say they are puzzled, and
only explanation they can give for
strange freak of nature is that it^H
caused by the chemical action of
sun's rays on the ice which is handj^^H
by Smith daily. Mrs. Smith,
mother of the young man, tried
wash the lines from his face, but co^^J
not do so. She is superstitious,
ber husband, and fears 6omethin^^H
lioiinon tr> her Eon. but^HS
Sul"iS >.*> ? ? goes
about liis work as usual,^^^H
minding the attention he is attra^^^H
?Chicago ChronicJe.
We Eat loo Much
A writer in one of our medi(^^H^H
nals calls attention to the fact^^^KH
excessive use of salt is a most
dietetic error, and vet one^^^^H
curiously, is seldom referrei^^^^^J
writers upon dietetics. The^^^^^J
sion drawn from observatioifl^H^^fl
by Boussingault is that the^^H^H
chloridc of sodium, or comn^^^^^fl
by human beings is rather a
Vinhit. than of necessity. naturt^^^H
probably exhibited the same
in regard to the amount of chlorid^^H
sodium placed in our food as
reference to the other salts requiflH
by the system.
1
Emperor William's latest fad
telegraphy, and he is spending sev^^f
hours a week learning to send n^^|
sages by dots and dashes. He has^BE
ready made considerable progrets^BB
an operator of the key ffi
- 1 ^