Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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? 1 lewis m. grist, proprietor, j %v. fitircptniient Jfamilg fttfospptr: Jbr % |lromotion rf t|e IJoltiral, Uotial, ^grintlfnral anir Crnnnterrfal Jnftrafs of f|t ^ooflj. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. "VOL. 34. YOEKVILLE. S. O.. WEDNESDAY. MARCH 21, 1888. HO. 12. " ' "" *~~~ f ~~ * * . ibe ftotg ItlUt. MR. BIRD'S UMBRELLA. BY P. W. BOBDfSOX. Rat-a-tat-a-tat- a - tat - a- tat - a -tat?Bang! j There was a pause, and a long enough pause j to gi**e me the impression that I had been i dreaming of earthquakes, or of the bombard- j ment of the British museum, or of a volcanic ; eruption in Russell square, to convince me I even forcibly that I must have been dream- i ing, as I sat up in bed, and rubbed my eyes and listened. Then?Bang! bang! bang!? rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a - tat ? Bang! Yes, there was somebody evidently knocking at the street door, hanging by the street door knocker, and throwing his whole soul into the instrument?the house was on fire perhaps, or we were wanted next door at i Brian's or a lunatic had escaped, and was clamoring for admittance, straight waistcoat and ail, or else the up stairs lodgers nau come back prematurely from their visit to Tunbridge, and were anxious to get in out of the rain, which was coming down with a vehemence* that was certainly startling. I could surmise nothing j more at a moment's notice and at 2:80 in the ; morning. We all slept very soundly in No. 10 Prossi- | ter street, Prossiter place, Russell square, Bloomsbury, for we worked very hard at Nc-. 10, and the house was a large one. It ; was a house of many lodgers?parlor floor, i first floor and second floor?and all com- ! fortably let, and those lodgers who were at : home were all fast asleep, or else waiting for me, the poor, weakly proprietor of the es- . tablishment (Jano Neild, at your service, gentle reader, age 22, and an orphan with an j establishment on her mind, and a living to get out of the establishment), to call to the servants (Bridget, able bodied, "general," j aged 40, aDd a frightful temper, and Sarah, aged 13, child with a chronic cold and a red nose, but handy as a help to Bridget) to get up and see what was the matter at No. 10, or with the party outside No. 10 who was i "kicking up such a deuce of a row." That was the way it was put at last by Capt Choppers, my drawing room floor, an irritable old gentleman?not to say violent when roused?who came out on the landing nt last in an attire which Bridget told me - afterwards was far from decorous, and began bawling vociferously up the staircase the names of each of my maids in turn, concluding with my own name in a shriek of sheer despair. "Miss Neild?here, I say?is everybody dead! Miss N-e-e-e-ild!" "Bless my soul, captain, what is it now?" I cried through the crack in my door. "Don't you hear that infernal noise down stairs, madam? Who the deuce is it at this * time of night, who tK ?what do you say, madam I" "I'm going to open the window and inquire ; unless you" "It's no business of mine, Miss Neild," bawled the captain. "I don't expect anybody?I'm not going into the drawing room at this time of night, with my cold. I'm disturbed enough, as it is, through your being all so diabolically deaf. I shall leave this day week, ma'am. There!" And slam went the back drawing room door, and crick crack went the key in the irascible captain's lock. I was in my dress- j ine room, with a flannel garment, which I I take the liberty here of calling a "muffler," I wrapped round my head and shoulders; and, ' as I went toward the window, trembling, I ; must say, in every limb, the knocking was repeated for the third time, and with a three fold vigor, born oi the delay and irritation to past summonses. I waited until there was silence again, or nearly silence?for I could distinctly hear Capt. Choppers loading all his firearms?and then opened the widow, and peered into the damp, shiny street, which the wind and rain had all to themselves, with the exception of a dark figure on my top step, whose hat I could see was as shiny as the pavement "What is itf' I inquired; but the wind j whisked my voice into Museum street, and I j had to repeat the inquiry in a shrill falsetto. j The man below paused with his hand to the j knocker again?for he was just going to be- i gin afresh?listened, and then ran down the steps and stood on the edge of the curbstone, with his hands behind him, looking up at me at last. I could make not' lug of him in the darkness from my point of view. "What do you want, sir?" 1 asked, now that I had secured the attention of this individual. "What are you making such a noise for at this time of night?' 'Tm very sorry to disturb you, lady" "So it seems," I said, acrimoniously; buthe did not hear me, and perhaps it was as well he did not. I have not a reputation for being severe in my remark?, but then this was an exceptional proceeding, and deserved rebuke. "The fact is, madam, the wind has blown my umbrella clean out of my hand into your ! area. I would not mind so much," he conde- i Bcended to explain still further, at the top of j niS voice, "uuticatm uiuumut jl sen gieau store by. Besides, it's raining tremendously." "I really cannot come down at this hour and got your umbrella," I said, severely; "you must call to-morrow for it." "Isn't there any one in the house?any man ?who can get itf' "The house is locked up for the night." "It's such a very deep area or I would drop over and get it myself. But then I don't see how to get out again," he said. "I can't help you, sir; I am very sorry," I replied,"but I can't go down to-night for it." "I should bo a brute to ask you, ma'am," j he said, politely now; and here I could see be raised his hat to me; "of course I could ' not toll who was in tho house, or whether it j might not be easy to get my umbrella?which I really value very much, I assure you; it's j an umbrella which?but I am very sorry to have disturbed you.. I will call in the morning?thank you; good night." And away the gentleman strode, turning up tho collar of his coat above his ears as he went on down tho street. I closed the window, I set ray "muffler" aside, and in another moment I should have been in my humble couch again, when Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tatr a-tat-a-tat-a-tat?Bang! once more aroused the echoes of the neighborhood, but brought no policeman to tho rescue, or any anxious inquirers to tho windows, except myself, who, onco more enwrapped, and this time trembling with indignation, was a minute afterward in mv old nosition faeintr tho dangers and inconveniences of the gale, and looking down one? more at the figure below me, standing in bis old position on the brink of the deep gutter in the roadway. "I beg your pardon again very much, I am awfully sorry to bo such a nuisance, but I really don't know where I am," he cried, rattling on with great volubility. "I* haven't the least idea, and the streets are all alike, and I am quite a stranger to this part of the world, and I am afraid I shan't know this house from any other in the daylight. Might I just trouble you for the address?" "Prossiter street," I called down to him. "I thank you very much. BoshingtoD ; Street." "Prossiter street," I screamed. "Prossiter?a thousand thanks and apolo gics. And what number, ma'am, may I ask?" "No. 10." "I am very much obliged to you," he bawled forth, "I am exceedingly indebted. I would not have troubled you in this way if < the umbrella had not been" But I would not listen to,any further explanation; he had already said that he set ' great store by the umbrella, and I did not j want to hear that fact again with the rain ! coming down like a waterspout, and the wind blowing every way at once. I closed the window summarily and cut short hisvolu- j bility, and the instant afterward I heard him running along towards New Oxford street as if to make up for lost time, or to overtake a : j Kissing cab of which he had probably caught sight. It was some time before I could get to sleep after so lengthy a discussion under such peculiar circumstances. I was annoyed at the man's pertinacity concerning his trumpery umbrella, his indifference to time, and the personal inconvenience to which he exposed people by his unseasonable request, and I lay in considerable fear of his third return and another series of questions at the top of his lungs. But he came not again, and I dropped off to sleep at last, and was troubled by dreams of tempests and tornadoes, and white squalls carrying away whole grosses of umbrellas. until Sarah knocked at the panels of my door with her customary information that it was 6:80 o'clock. I was perforce an early riser. There was a great deal to superintend, and my parlor 3oor was a gentleman connected with the railway goods traffic department who was always getting up early and going out to business and letting himself in again with his latch key about 7 in the morning, when he expected breakfast ready, and ate it walking about the room, as a rule, preparatory to running away again in hot haste. * I should have considered Mr. Goode an irritable lodger if it had not been for the angelic contrast that he affprded to Capt. Choppers., As it was, he seemed only a little bit fussy and precise, which was attributable chiefly to his 'ot in life. Mr, Goode was a widower with two sons at boarding school, and if those boys had lived and died at boarding school, instead of coming home twice a year for the holidays, I think Bridget and 3arah would have rejoiced exceedingly. I remember Mr. Goode asked Sarah that morning if he could speak with Miss Neild before he left, find I went up stairs at once to 3t*j him. He was walking about with his mojth full and a slice of bread and butter in bis hand. "Thf t was a dreadful noise last night, Mis Neild," be began; '"I couldnt get a wink of sleep. The captain, I suppose, again? I must certainly ask you in my name to present my compliments j him, and" "It was not Capt. Choppers." "Indeed? No. Well, I thought I heard his voice," said Mr. Goode, very much disappointed. There was no homogeneousness between Mr. Goode and Capt. Choppers?I may say even that there were times when they hated and loathed each other. "He's a beggarly upstart civilian, madam," the captain would roar in excited moments; and "He a cry lain!" Mr. Goode would say, with withering contempt. "Captain of a penny steamboat, perhaps, nothing more." But to my strange story. "A gentleman dropped his umbrella down the area and knocked me up for it," I explained, with a little acrimonious emphasis. "Well, of all the confounded impertinence!" exclaimed Mr. Goode; "I should like to treat that party to a bit of my mind. You never got up and gave it to him?" "No, I did not." "I am glad to hear that. For you must j take care of yourself, Miss Neild, and keep j strong. You are not looking well," he said, j regarding me with his head on one side, as if he had a troublesome wen on the other which he was anxious to keep clear of the edge of nis snin, collar, upuuiuj ?uiu jvucuujuvu. You are pale and fragile looking. A little change at the seaside now would do you a world of good.'" "Y'-s, I daresay it would." "This largo house is a trial to you?and thq^. captain, with his absurd fancies and his ridiculous tempers, would worry the life out of a saint?and you are really looking extremely pale this morning. And?good gracious, I had no idea it was so late!" . Mr. Goode swallowed the last portion of his bread and butter whole, and dashed like a harlequin out of the front door. When he 1 had gone I surveyed myself in his parlor glass and wondered if I was looking very ill, or whether, being a dismal man, he was trying to frighten me, and I arrived at tho conclusion I was looking about che same as usual?a prim, pale, pert little puss, as my dear old dad called me once, when I was arguing with him on the housekeeping expenses, and how the weekly money would never hold out if he would continually ask the lodgers in to supper and a game at cribbage afterward. Poor dad; he died next year and left me 3ole proprietor of the lease and furniture of the house in Prossiter street, and there were no lato suppers and cribbage any more. I was 17 when he died, and I had had five years' charge of No. 10 since?"getting quite an old maid, Lily Brian, who lived next door, j said; but then Lily was four years younger j than I, and assumed upon her youth, as girl9 | will A nice girl was Lily Brian, and my one ! friend and confidante, but perhaps too fond j of laughing at everything, although that I elio wna honnv (iml hurl n. Iwn spnsA I of humor and a fino set of teeth. Well, perhaps I was a trifle paler, was my second conclusion after the first five minutes, and with a tinge of redness?a mero tingeabout tlio nose, just as if I was breeding a cold, as Bridget put it. And this was not remarkable, considering last night's experiences, hnd sure enough the cold was bred before iny early dinner hour, when the sneezing stage had set in with considerable force. This reminded me once more of the umbrella which had been dropped into the area last night, and I asked Bridget to bring it to me. "The what, rn'mf' asked Bridget, with a wild stare. "The umbrella." "Umbereller, and down our airy, did ye say, m'm? There's not a scrap of umbereller j down our airy. I'vo been in and out twenty j toimcs, and must have seen it," continued [ Bridget. "Bridget, there must bo an umbrella," I j said; "go and sec." Bridget departed, and returned with tho j information that there was no umbrella in j the area, and then I went and looked for my- J self, and, as it was still drizzling with rain, I caught another cold on top of tho first one, | and was pt fever heat ere twenty-four hours I had ensued. But before then tho gentleman I had called for his property, and I had met face to faco the individual who hod rendered j last night hideous. Ho came at 8 in the afternoon, sending in 1 his card by way of preliminary announce- ! ment that he had arrived. I did not assoei- j ate him with the umbrella?indeed I was j feeling drowsy and "out of sorts," with pains I at the back of my head, when a huge glazed , card was presented to me bearing the in- j scription in large, fancy letters, of "Geoffry i Bird, carver and gilder and picture frame I maker, 007 Goswell road, Islington, N." "I don't want any picture frames, Sarah," j I said to my small help, wearily. "It's the gentleman about his umbrella, ; mum," said Sarah. "Good heavens I Oh, indeed. "Well, ask . him to step in, then." My sitting room was a small apartment at : the end of the long passage, the only little room I had to myself and my day dreamsyes, my day dreams!?when the house wa3 full, which it had been all these years, for they were the same lodgers who had lived with us in father's time?odd, inconsiderate, j queer tempered lodgers enough, but faithful ! to my house, and keeping an old promise to my father, too, "to stand by the little woman a bit when he was gone." Mr. Bird was ushered into my presence, and he came in with a low bow and with a trifle too much of a smile to wholly please me, although it suggested itself to me somewhat quaintly that ho would not have much to smile at presently. Mr. Bird was a slim and somewhat short young man, who wore his black hair long enough for a violinist, nnr? hnrJ nnnn tVin uTnallucf nf Vianrla thn dest and most prominent of knuckles. He was rathor a good looking young man, with brown eyes and black bushy eyebrows, and with a habit of shaking his head suddenly, ' as if to get the hair back from his forehead, j or as if he had .just come out of water. He ; was fairly well dressed, might have passed i even for a gentleman if it had not been for ; his red knuckles and that very obtrusive j smile. ''Good afternoon, Miss Neild?for I under- j stand your name is Neild," ho began; "I am J very sorry for the third time in my life to bo j such a complete nuisance to you. But I j think I am in the right this time, being here ; by invitation.'' "Yes; I asked you to call at a more sea ; sonable hour, I remember," I replied, I "but" "Andl oweyou no end of apologies," he ' added, "for the noiso I made last night. I , was in too much of a hurry?I am naturally impulsive, in fact?and when the wind caught my umbrella and blew it clean out of my hands into your area my first impulse was to run up the steps and knock." "Yes, I heard you knock," I s$id, quietly. "No, I'm sure you didn't," he said, flatly contradicting mo here; "you couldn't have heard me the first time, for I waited a reasonable period before I knocked again. It was a tremendous while to wait with a fellow drenched to the skin all the time. By George, I was never out in such a rain. I shall catch a nice cold, I am afraid. You have a bail cold, young lady.'" "I caught cold last night." "Not?not at that window f' "Yes, at that window." "Oh, come, I am awfully sorry for that," Mr. Bird cried; "I didn't think of that. I thought some gentleman, or servant, or por tar might be up, Tor there was alight burning over the hall door, and it wouldn't be a great deal of trouble and save my getting wet through. Why, I would much rather have lost my umbrella altogether than have given you cold, although it's an umbrella which I would not take ?30 for?no, nor ?50 either." "Is it a vpry valuable umbrella?" "Oh, no, not at all; but, as you know now, it's my best umbrella in every sense of the word," he said laughing, "my very best umbrella, don't you see?" But I did not see; neither the application nor tho umbrella was apparent to me, and my heart quite stink at the news which I had to impart to him. The man was so enwrapped in his umbrella?speaking figuratively?that I felt it was necessary to break the news gently. "I'm sorry to say I don't see," I replied, "for tho fact is" Yes, he was impulsive, and dashed to conclusions; and the smilo did leave his face as suddenly and completely as if somebody had pulled it away by a string, and a settled look of horror, and for an instant open mouthed idiocy, took its place. "The fact is," he repeated, very slowly at last: i"ko on, pleafiB." "That there was no umbrella down our Brca at all." "Oh! that won't do," ho exclaimed, so abruptly and rudely that I felt the color coming up all over mo; "that won't do at any price." "I don't know what you mean by any price, sir," I said, drawing myself up to my full height, as the novelists say?and that height was exactly five feet three inches and a half when fully drawn up and a little bit on tiptoe?"but you must take my word, sir, that I haven't sot eyes on your umbrella." "No, Miss Neild, I don't suppose you have," he said, very quickly; "don't think that I think that you think?that?that? why, of course, I don't," he said, tumbling into another sentence as tho first one became hopelessly involved, "and it's not at all likely; but it went down your area?I was perfectly sober?and tho servants must have seen it in tho morning. May I ask tho servants i" "I have asked them." "Isn't there a page boy or somebody who comes earlv to clean something i" "No." "Who is the first to go into that area in the morning, Miss NeildT' ho inquired; "somebody for coals, I suppose?" "Bridget or Sarah, certainly." "I should very much like to see Bridget and Sarah." ho suggested, "if vou would not object." "You must be content with my word, sir, that your umbrella is not on tho premises," I said, still loftily; "I cannot have my servants subjected to a cross-examination on this question. I have already made every inquiry." "They tell you they have not seen my umbrella?" "They do." "And you believe themf" "Certainly." "Well, I don't?and that's plain speaking," ho said frantically. "I'm aware of that." "Because, you see, it is quito impossible, unless there's anybody else in the house who gets up earlier than tho servants. Is there anybody else?" he asked. "Yes, there's a gentleman who lodges in my front parlors, who leaves very early, but" "That's the man. Whero is he?" cried Mr. Bird, with a frantic dash in a new direction of suspicion. "I should like to see him." "He's a gentleman holding a high position on tho railway, and is not at all likely to confiscate property that does not belong to him," Isaid. "I don't say ho has confiscated it," answered Mr. Bird, less brusquely, "but lie may have seen it this morning, and put it asido for further inquiries." "Mr. Goodo is not in tho habit of going into my area," I said; "I don't believe lie has been in the area in the whole course of bis life." "Xot before this morning, Miss Xeild? very likely not, having nothing to go for, as it were. But when bd caught sight of an mibrella?and a very peculiar umbrellalying on tho wet stones, I haven't the slightest doubt"-;? "He could not get into tho area, sir," I said; "Bridget takes up tho key with her every night, and, besides, I told him about the umbrella this morning." "What did he say to that?" "He said it was like your impertinence? confounded impertinence,' I may say, were the actual words used," I answered, "to make such a noise in the middle of the night, and he should like to give you a piece of bis mind." "Oh! he said that, did he?" ho remarked, biting his finger nailS almost savagely. "Yes." "Then he's the man who's got my umbrella," he cried; "I see it all now. He's keeping it back out of spite!" "Mr. Bird, this is absolutely unendurable.'' "I suppose he was tho fellow bellowing about the house like a bull last night, trying to make somebody understand that I was knocking. I heard him." ".No, he was not the fellow," I replied, severely; "that was Capt. Choppers." "Does Capt. Choppers get up early?" "No, he doesn't, he's a very late riser, indeed; I believe he's in bed now." "That's his artfulness," said the suspicious individual, "just to make you fancy" But I would not allow him to proceed any further. I was fairly roused by this stranger's disparaging reflections. I rose, looked steadily and gravely at him, and said: "This interview is at an end, Mr. Bird. These gentlemen are my lodgers?I might say almost my friends?and I cannot listen to your cruel and uncalled for remarks against their common honest}*." "Common honesty it may be, Miss Neild," be replied; "but you must allow there is very uncommon dishonesty somewhere in your establishment" "I will allow nothing." "I don't mean I want you to allow me anything for the loss of my umbrella," he said, hurriedly. "Pray don't understand that to bo my wish." "Of course not. The idea!" "That's all right then; very likely I am a little put out?rude, in fact," he added, apologetically, "for I am not a lady's man, and don't know anything about ladies; but, as I am quite prepared to take my oath the umbrella did go down your area, it's rather aggravating to be told you dont believe a word I say." ' "I never said that," I answered. "I shall find it all out my own way, I dare say; I have got a habit of sifting to the bottom of things, they tell me?but I will not trouble you any more about it, Miss Neild. If I have been a bit rough," ho said; "I'll ask you to forgive me, and to believe I don't think for an instant you know anything about it. Heaven forbid, with such a nice look as you've got" "Sir!" "I beg pardon. Don't mind me; I'm bothered," ho ran on, with extraordinary volubility, "and this umbrella was my old father's last present?just three days before ho died?when ho was given up, and one would have thought ho had had something more serious to consider than buying mo an umbrella for my birthday. Ho died 011 my birthday, too, which is another odd part or the story," he ran on; "but, there, good day, madam, I am bothering you. I. wvish your cold better?good day." And away marched Mr. Gcoffry Bird out of my room and down the long passage to the street door, swinging his arms wildly to and fro. H jumped the wholo flight of steps into the street and was gone, as I thought, for good. The next day I was very ill indeed?too ill to rise. I had caught cold at the open window and in the damp night uir, and it had become absolutely necessary to send for the doctor, and to make what 1 always considered was too much of a fuss over me. Lily Brian told mo a week afterward, when I was able to sit up for the first time in my room, that I had been in a critical state, and there liad been one night when everybody was anxious and excited, and even Capt. Chopjiers walked continuously up and down the stairs for two hours and a half, and said, "Poor girl, poor girl," and had a secret conference with Mr. Goode as to the advisability of having a physician in the morning at their mutual expense, "and say nothing about it, sir, to any one." But I was better the next morning; I changed for the better with the summer weather which came in, bright and fine and hot, and suggested holidays out of town and by the creat green sea for the lucky folk who could afford to spend their money. Lily Brian and her mother and father, and two gawky brothers whom I did not like very much, and thirteen small members of the family, were all going out of town, and "Why not come with us?" Lily had said, kindly. My answer was a very old one, and very natural and very truthful, too. "Because I cannot afford it, Lily." "Oh, bother the money," said Lily. "That's what I often say myself." "It shall cost you next to nothing?hardly anything," Lily suggested. "Papa says you will only have to pay for a room somewhere, and you can board with us, and, oh, dear, it will be awfully jolly!" "It's very kind of your papa, and?and P1J think of it, Lily, at any rate." "And make up your mind and say 'yes,'" cried Lily?"won't you? Jane?" "I don't know." "That fright of a captain's going somewhere, I know," Lily said, "and Mr. Goode has got a free pass down the line, you tell me, and he's sure to go into the country with so little to pay for it; it's just like him. And do think of it, Jane, there's a love!" I did think of it. Thought of Mr. Brian's large family, eighteen of-them - altogeitarp nnrl wVipthor it was nossihle I coulrl intrude gracefully upon them. Mr. Brian had retired from a cocoanut fiber and street door mat business in the Tottenham Court road, and was pretty well off, with only a slight necessity of letting his drawing room floor. He was evidently not a rich man, and there were a few stmggles to "keep up an appear- j anee," although he went out of town with his family for a month every summer, by express desire of Mrs. Brian, who required change every August, and regularly sallied i I forth, en famille, from her large establish- ' inent in Prossiter streot to a house down a back slum in High street, Margate, where the rooms were small, and the children were heaped together sardine fashion, and now and then came back with "something catching" as a wind up to the season's enjoyment. And this particular Auguift I was asked to. join them. There was the sea, and "You must take a little change," said the doctor, | and Lily Brian was very pressing, and Capt. Choppers had talked of going away for a 1 week or two, and the boys Goode were com: ing home for the holidays, and I, Jane Neild. ; was ablo to pay?and would insist upon payI ing?my fair share for board with the Bnj ans, having my little room out of the house, I too, for that peace and quietness which is not j always found in large families. Yes, I would I ?v/? /1ntt*n tn o rrrn f\n U'liPM T WflQ KtrflTUT? i when I was well enough to bear tho fatiguo of tho journey. This was a promise on tho day the Brians, with much formality of departure, left town for the season, and I made up my mind to get well and strong as soon as possible, and join them. When I was down stairs again in my little back room there was a great surprise awaiting me. Nailed against the wall, under I my father's cabinet sized photogruph, was a j brand new ornament?a little carving in oak of a dead bird banging by its claws downward, and with every feather wonderfully | delineated. I stared at it with intense astonishment, and Bridget stood in the background with a grin 011 her face from ear to ear. "Where did this come from? Good gracious, how beautiful! how?well I never did!" My thoughts flashed to Mr. Goode, for he was liberal at times, and grateful for any little attentions in his widowerhood's estate in I the shape of darning stockings or re-estab- j lishing tho security of buttons; but the truth j soon came out, and then I was more aston- j ished than ever. "If you please, m'm, it's tho young man who lost his umbereller," explained Bridget, with a loud guffaw at last aiul a violent stamping of both her big Irish feet, like an excitable person with a bono in her throat. "What!*' "Yos, m'm," continc " Bridget; "and I I was to say nothing aboiA it to anybody but : you?and not till you were down stairs again j ?becauso ho wouldn't have you worried I about anything, he said, not for worlds." "He said all that!" "Yes, m'm." j "But, bless tho man,'* I exclaimed, "what has ho left this here for!" "It's?it's a prisent, m'm, I'm thinking." "A present to me, and from that impertinent being!" I said; "I'll see about his present presently. When did he comer' "He's been here every day, m'm." "Every day?" "Twice a day," Bridget replied. "And j j LLIU UUy J UU WUI C aui.il uu wouic cill co vniica, i i to make sure the doctors weren't killing ! I you." "It's very extraordinary." "Ho is 'stronary, m'm," asserted Bridget, I "shure, and there's not much doubt of it j | The way he axed mo and badgered me about ! I that umbereller, m'm, every day after you ; I were took ill, you'd have thought ho was a j judge and jury rolled into one?and Sarah, ' too, poor critter." "I never heard of such behavior in my ; life." "Right yo are, Miss Neild, as far as that j I goes; but when Sarah bust out crying at last i i ho was very sorry and gave her 'arf a crown; J | and so he did me, m'm, like a real gentleman, ! when I thought it was quite time I cried, j ; too, when 'arf crowns were flying about like j ! that." "That'll do, Bridget," I said, for Bridget I when loquacious wus familiar. "When was ! , he h,*e last?' | "This morning." "Indeed." "And I told him you were quite come ! j round, and he suid, 'That's a good job,' and | went away." "Do you think he'll return?' "I don't think so, m'm, for he said, 'Good- 1 > by, Bridget; mind you take care of her,'as j : he walked hisself off." "Did ho say anything else ?' "N?no, m'm, I don't seem to recollect" "Answer me truthfully, Bridget; what else | I did ne say?' "Sorry a word, else, except he hoped Mai'- j i gate would do you a power of good." "How did ho know I was going to Mar- j gate?' I inquired. ! "That's more nor mortal can say, m'm. j j He knows a great deal more about other j people's affairs than he ought. He interferes j i like, doesn't he/ He's a terrible curious young j I man." "Bridget, 3*011 have something more to tell ; I me, I'm sure you have." | "Oh! Miss Neild." "How dare you deceive me! how dare" | "Mercy on us, m>* dear mistress, don't go | and throw )'ourself all the way back agin by [ flaring off like this. I'll tell 3*0 eviything, and it s not much, after all, if ye 11 only Keep cool and comfor'ble." "Well?go on." "And ye may give me a month's warning and send mo away afterward, if ye'll only bo cool, miss, and don't blame me too much jest at prisint." "Why don't you explain?" "Well, then, he took it into his head Mr. i (ioode had got his uinbereller or elso Capt. I Choppers, and one day, when they were both ' out, lie axed me to let him look into their | rooms, and I did, m'm?and, begorra, I | shouldn't have been surprised if either of 'em ! had got it, mane souls that they are, with never a kind word to those who are slaving j i their hearts out for 'em, and" ! "Bridget, go downstairs directly." "To be sure, m'm, I will if ye don't want me any more." Bridget departed, and it dawned upon me ! that she hud been imbibing just a little?and ! this bad occurred once before, when papa ; was alive. And she had too, but it was for j joy that I was better, and to drink good luck I to me, she afterward confessed, and I for| gave her, especially as on the next day she ! ,oined the Blue Ribbon movement, in sheer j coutriteness of spirit, and "was forever after: ward?that is, up till. now?a worthy, if i ! humble, member of society. But this Mr. Geoffry Bird, how the man | did trouble me! How his nasty, suspicious nature had led him to poke and pry about ! my establishment, and to take advantage of i my helplessness, and the proneness of Bridget j and Sarah for half crowns, to ransack the whole place! My blood boiled with indignation. And then his present?if it were a J 1 present?obtrusively nailed against the wall, ! too, as if I c?rcd for his carvings, or did anything but despise his miserable manners and his uncharitable self. Ho could not take my word that no one had stolen his um- j brella, oh dear, no! Ho must prove for himself that I was not speaking the truth. How I hated him! I was recommended to take a drive next day, and I hired a hansom cab and went to Uoswell road, Islington, with the carved fcirdL I discovered ITo. 007 at last, and found the house empty, and a bill, with "This House to Let," pasted upon the shutters. Mr.'Geoffry Bird had left tho neighborhood within tho last few days, and no one in Goswell road knew what had become of him. So I had my journey for nothing, and all the expenses of payment for carrying nio through the heart of the big city, where tiicro was not a breath of air stirring that hot day. I do not think the drive did me any good, I was so terribly vexed that Mr. Bird was not to bo discovered, and that I had to return to Proasiter street with his hateful carving on my lap. I would have thrown it out of tho cab oply I was afraid of hitting somebody between the eyes and creating an uproar in tho metropolis. "Put that wretched thing away whero I cant see it," I said to Bridget 011 my return. "Ttes. m'm: leave it to me, m'm." "I don't moan where wo can't find it," I. ndflijfl, meeting a decisive expression in Bridget O'Gowan's green eyes that alarmed me;?"tho man may call again, although I doubt it very much." Next week I was strong enough to join the Briar. 1, at Margate*?that salubrious retreat one meets everybody he knows, if he '"only WaJts'lFng enough'. ~~A'hd"3n"flfar jetty extdpsion that evening I met Capt. Choppers and Mr. Goode, who ho/1 lx>th eome down "by accident," and who had been passing each other on tho jetty ail the evening m though they had never met in tho whole course of their lives. Mr. Goodo's two sorn were in Margate also, but, having fallen headlong into tho water while fishing, had gone home to bed while their suits were being dried; And the next morning whom should I meeis face to face, and smiling as vigorously as ever, but GeofFry Bird, the carver. It was early morning, when few people were stiiTing, and I had gone for a walk along the fort to put my blood in circulation and get an apatite for breakfast. The Brians were not early risers, and I knew it was no use calling at their apartments till 8:30 o'clock. Mr. Bird was clad in a dark blue pilot suit, with a very yellow straw hat set on tho back of his head and a large telescope under hil arm. Ho was supremely nautical, and I took him for somebody rather high in tho coast guard service?a sergeant or something? before he raised his hat and came with an antelope kind of spring toward me. "Miss Neild," lie exclaimed, "I axn so very glad to see you about again. You really cannot imagine how glad 1 am!" "I don't understand why it should occasion you any pleasure, sir," I said, in my most reserved tone of voice. "Don't you, though.' Oh, well, I'll to!/ you." He turned and walked by my side, and I did not see 011 the instant how it was possible I.O get rill 01 nmi. 1 teiu iny equuiiiuuijr ??tn seriously disturbed' by his appearance, by his insufferable obtimsiveness. This was part and parcel of his ordinary behavior?a total want of forethought, which was as evident that day as in the small hours of tho morning when he had roused me out of my first sleep by nearly battering tho house down. He alluded to that little incident at once. "In answering me that unlucky night, Miss Neild, you nearly caught your death," he explained, "and nobody can imagine how miserable I was?how desperately wretched ?until I heard you were out of danger. I should have never forgiven myself, upon my honor, and I did not know a moment's peace till Bridget, your girl, told me you wero out of danger. Lor', what a trial it was!" "I don't see whv?I don't understand at all -I" "I can just fancy how a man feels who has committed a murder and is not found out yet," he continued; "it was dreadful, and all my own fault, too?every scrap of it." I did not feel so bitterly toward him after this. His manner was genuine, if too forcible ftfd fluent for everyday wear. I might have even thanked him for his exaggerated interest in my health and said good morning, if I had not suddenly remembered his surreptitious visits to my lodgers' apartments. Then I was adamant, and he saw it. He was certainly an observant man, whom very little escaped. I noticed the broad smile disappear, and ho said, almost with astonishment: "Why, you're offended with me still!" "As I have only seen you once before in my life, I cannot very well speak of being offended, Mr. Bird?but I must say" "No. no, don't say it," he cried, interrupting me, "don't say a word more, please. I? I know it was a great liberty?an unwarrantable liberty?but I could't help it. I wanted to make a little return for all the trouble and misery I had brought abbut, and I coulduV think of anything else. I had just done it, you see." "Done what!" I exclaimed, snappishly?I could have screamed at him for two pins. "Why, the little bit of carving?aren't you uilKllig ULXJUb iiiun 110 mquireu. "No, sir, although I'll trouble you to remove the article from my premises as soon as you conveniently can." -Oh!" "But I am alluding now, sir, to your ungentlemanly behavior in bribing my servants to let you inspect my apartments." "I didn't bribe your servants, Miss NeiltL Poor girls, I frightened them, but I did not give them money as a bribe. You might have thought better of a fellow than that," he said, very sorrowfully; "although why you should I ton't know exactly." "You had no right to go into my lodgers' .roo.as and search for that trumpery umbrella you last." "No right!" he repeated. "Certainly?no right." "But one of those two old beggars has got it," ho cried, energetically; "I'm sure of that." "How dure you say this to me!" "Who else can it be? T know you haven't got it," he cried. "I am sure your two servants arc as innocent as babes unborn, and they were the only two besides in the house that night?the upstairs lot had gone to Tunbridge for two days." "How did you know that?" "Oh, I made every inquiry," he explained, coolly; "and as the umbrella was a precious possession to me?I think I told you before it was a gift from my father 011 his dying bed ?I made every effort to find out what had become of it." "And a very mean way to find out it was," I said, with asperity; "and?good morning." "Gti-ood morning," he said, in a low, croaking voice. He raised his bilious straw hat, dropped hiji telescope, which he picked up and tucked once more under his arm, cama suddenly to a full stop, and let me go on ray way unmolested any further by him. When I had got a good distance from him, I began to feei a little sorry?even a little in doubt if I hud not been too hard upon him. He had apjjeared so utterly dumfouiulcd by my last opinion of his conduct, and he had turned of such a variety of colors. Perhaps, from his point of view, and with an umbrella which had vanished from every point of view, ho was not wholly to be blamed. Perhaps the captain had?110, that was quite impossible. Perhaps Mr. Goode?oh! I was getting as miserably distrustful as this unhappy man. Yes, I was a little sorry. As 1 went off tho NJIU A MU1U III It? ^lUIIL'O IX.I11 IKl IUC UJ I11UK3 sure what hurl become of him?that his impulsive nature even had not led him to jump off the cliff. He was ull right; he was a long way of!?indeed, in tho very place where I had left him?not overwhelmed or mad with grief and shame, as I had almost feared lm might be, but standing with his legs planted widely ajMU-t looking at me through his telescope. When he saw I had turned he wheeled quickly round and feigned an interest in the sea, knocking the hat oil a bath chairman just passing him with an early faro who had lost the use of his legs. Well, there is an end of the intruder, I thought, and I could have wished?yes, I did actually wish?that I had been more of a young lady and less of a vixen in my reproaches to him. I had been put out by his appearance at Margate, by his venturing to address me, and had lost my self conq>osure, but then a more obtuse and aggravating person I had never encountered before. Not so very obtuse either, but very quick to take a hint and to guess when he was disliked and his company objected to. Wo passed each other twice or thrice a day after that, but he never ventured to speak to mo again. He bowed with great gravity and exhibited extraordinary formality in taking off his hat, seizing it in the middle of the crown and raising it like tho lid off a saucepan, and there was no further occasion to object to his expansive smile. lie was a stolid, even a woebegone young man, with something on his mind. Had it not been for that everlasting telescope under his arm "ui j could have imagined h'jn a prey to the deepj est rooted sorrow. I think ho was the most sad when I passed j him in company with the captain who some| Limes condescended to promenade with ma i and the most angry when I was out with Mr. i Gfoode, to whom I was a relief from the wear j and tear of two boys wonderfully full of ani' mal spirits on unseasonable occasions. When I was with Lily Brian, he seemed to brighten up a little, awl Lily was curious concerning him, and asked me many questions. "Who is that good looking young man, Jane, who is always taking his hat off?1' she asked one morning. "He is a carver and gilder; I don't know him?that is, I hardly know him," I said. "He called onco about something he had I dropped down our area, and he has claimed an acquaintance ever since." "Then why doesn't he speak?" asked the practical Lily. "He's much too quick with his speech; and it's a very good thing he's a trifle quieter just now," I said, sharply, and Lily looked at mo and said, eagerly, "Tell mo all about i!! Is he" "No, ho is not" ,,.VOb, I*beg your pardou, Jane; I thought he was." An enigmatic dialogue, but we perfectly understood each other, And I hoped that I had made Lily understand I had no interest in Mr. Bird, for young girls jump so rapidly at conclusions -where young men are concerned. Not that Lily was in the habit of jumping after young men in any way?I do not mean to convey that impression. Lily was full of spirits, but a good girl in every respect, with not an atom's worth ofc the ordinary Margate jetty girl in her constitution; not she. Still, curiously enough, I was deceived in and by Lily Brian. I had no idea ' she could have been so cunning or so easily deceived. One morning when I walked down the jetty I found to my intense astonishment Mr. and Mrs. Brian, Lily, George, the eldest Master Brian and Mr. Goode, all talking and laughing with Mr. Bird, and biking it in turns to peer through his telescope at some object on the far horizon. I walked up slowly, and with blushes on my cheeks, I am sure, in my surprise. "Jane, my dear, here's a gunboat," said Mr. Brian, as I approached; "this gentleman has been kind enough to allow us to inspect it through his very powerful telescope. Look here, child." Mr. Bird did smile a little, in a sheep faced and embarrassed kind of manner, as lie glanced toward me, but he did not say a word when Mr. Brian handed me the instrument. He even let Mr. Goode focus the instrument for mo without interfering in any way. although I fancied T heard him grinding his teeth. 'It's a capital glass, sir," said Mr. Bi-ian to him. Mr. Brian, being of a genial turn, was ? ?limncn,l +r> kn fripnrllv with tllO first stranger whom ho encountered out of town. ''Yes, it's a good glass." "Had it long, sir# "Would you liko to dispose of it now#" was the insinuating inquiry. "It belonged to nay father," was the reply, "therefore it has not a money value to me. It was his present when I was onc-audtwenty, and I shouldn't like to part with it." Another birthday present, I thought. Heavens, if he were to lose this too! "Certainly not, certainly not," said Mr. Brian, "I admire your good feeling, sir. George, you hear that," he said to his son, who was lacking in filial sentiment, and was at that identical moment sucking the bare knob of his stick as if it were an egg. George nodded and then winked at me. A most objectionable lout was George, and Mr. Bird scowled ferociously at him, and from him to me. I inspected the gunboat, or tritjd to inspect it, for tho object glass was very misty with little transparent worms that seemed to bo wriggling and dancing all over it; I returned the telescope to its owner, who said: "Thank you, ma'am," very quietly, and with his look of sadness highly developed again. Still lie remained remarkably non-obtrusive: he did not attempt to force his conversation upon me in any way, and presently he was walking down the jetty with Mr. Brian, aud talking and laughing as if he had known him all his life. I thought all this was a now and deep laid scheme of his, but it was really Lily Brian who was at the bottom of it all, or who at least induced her parents and brother to say from that day "Good morning" to Mr. Bird, and even to shake hands with him. Hence I was obliged to say "Good morning" also when he directly addressed me. and to become by degrees on speaking terms with him again, and almost to forget that umbrella question which had been a bone of contention?a whalebone of contention?between us. Not that the umbrella was off his mind in any way, for he had been introduced to Capt. Choppers on one occasion?by C'vpt. Choppers' express request, as that gentleman wanted to borrow his telescope?and to my astonishment i nearu air. Dim suy. nve minutes after the introduction, "You see, it was not for the value of the umbrella, but because of the associations connected with it. I hope you understand, captain.'' "I understand perfectly," was the reply; "but that was no reason why you should have kicked up such an abominable uproar, sir." Capt. Choppers had borrowed the telescope, and was now dominant and rude. The time was drawing toward the end of the holiday when Mr. Bird and I were friends. I may remark, actually friends, although I will say very firmly, and despite Lily Brian's opinion, nothing more than friends. Mr. Bird's holiday would expire a few days before our own, I learned, and, though I would not ! have owned it for untold wealth, I was sorry J he was going back to London. He had in| formed mo of his position by that time, and | of his prospects for the future, or of some of ! them. Ho had given up the business, and his ! father's business before him, of carver and ! gilder in the Goswell road; he was very clover j at his trade, I felt sure, for he bad been offered the post of superintendent of work by j an eminent firm in Oxford street, with whom I he had done business for years, and at a very I respectable salary indeed. He was exceedingly communicative the last day of his stay in Margate; weweresitI ting together under the shelter of the veranda of.thc refreshment room, with the band pluy! ing out in the rain. We were alone for a wonder; the Brians wero on the rocks in | search of anemones, with tho exception of | Lily, who had left me half an hour ago, with l an injunction to come homo if it "poured," i and with an umbrella to shelter me, as I had I ventured out without my own. fe*ho had seen ?having very sharp eyes of her own?Mr. | Geoffry Bird advancing down tho jetty, and j had made some trivial little excuse to leavo I mo "to give tho poor Mlow a chance,'" as sho told me afterwards. And there ho was sitting by my side, ccol nnd comfortable, and with | tho rain coming down in big drops and startI ling and confounding the pleasure seekers. I "I shall bo quite tho gentleman soon. Miss I Neild," he said, with a laugh, "and with a I nhnvo shon kooninir. I onlv want a lew I friends about mo to make life worth living, ! but I have never had any friends. Never had the time, or never saw anybody who was | worth taking any trouble about, until?until lately." | I could not reply to this. I did not knov I what he meant by "lately." ! "People never took to me, either," he conI fessed, ruefully; "I have u bad habit of j speaking out what is on my mind, and I'm I inquisitive und suspicious ut times, and so ! forth. Altogether a beastly character." He waited for me to reply to this. I had i thought hiqi abrupt unci inquisitive and susI pieious, but that seemed a very long time j ago now. He had improved wonderfully of late (lav's: there were little traits of character, of frankness, earnestness, generosity, ono 1 could almost admire, but I was not going to tell him so, though be waited patiently as if ' he expected something of the kind. As if j men were not vain enough in themselves, j without being told of their accomplishments! "You would not like anybody t<> say that i but yourself," I said, however: and it was a remark which did not commit me to any! tiling. "No. I should knock him down, prob! ably," ho replied, "especially if it were the I captain or thut railway g<x>ds inspector felj low." "Don't you like them?" I asked innocently. "Do youi" he rejoined. "They are old friends, almost." "You don't make your lodgers your friends."' he remarked. "Not always." "I should think not," he said, very scornfully now. "But these two gentlemen knew me when I was a little girl." "Ah, that makes a difference, I suppose; that's why they are both so fond of you," ho added, with a sigh. "Fond of me."' "You might marry either of them to-morrow, if you cared to hold up your little finger; I can seo that.'' "What nonsense!" "Oh, it's true enough," he cried. I laughed. "Then I shan't hold up my little finger." "That's right," lie said; and he actually drew a long, deep breath, as though it relieved him to hear me say 110; "for that captain's a pompous old noodle?a selfish party, who's stuck to my telescope a whole week?and the railway man would fidget any woman out of her life in a fortnight." "What's the matter with him;'' "He's an old woman, that's all." "Upon my honor, you are very uncomplimentary in your verdict upon my lodgers." "I hate your keeping a lodging house," ho muttered. "My poverty and not my will consents," I I answered. I H? ipw vi.vv silent for n lone time HOW. Hie visitors had hurried homeward, or had sought sHelter like ourselves, the bond had ceased playing, the rain was coming down in earnest. ' .May I ask a favor of you before I go back to London ?" he said suddenly and very hoarsely. "What is it;'' "Will you say 'yes'C "Not till I know what it is about," I replied, with spirit, "certainly not" "Well, then," he cried, "don't give me back that little bird I carved. You said you would, and it has been preying on my mind that it will come flying back some day when I least cxi>ect it and so upset me terribly. I want it hanging on your wall, to remind you of me sometimes, you know; being a bird like me. you see, it must. And though our acquaintance did not commence auspiciously, still you have forgotten and forgiven, haven't you?" ' "Well?yes?almost." "And you'll keep that little carving?" "Perhaps I will." "Bless you, Jane?Miss Neild, I mean. And now" I was getting alarmed at his vehemence, and very much afraid of what he would say next. I jumped up. "I think I will go home to Lily. She's all alone, i>oor girl." "But it's raining cats and dogs." "I don't mind the rain, and I'm fond of cats and dogs," I said' tripping from the shelter and struggling to open the umbrella which Lily hail lent to me. ' You have caught cold in the rain before now," lie said, dryly; "do stop a few minutes longer." "No." I said, shaking my head, "I would rather not." " Here, let mo manage that thing for you, 4.1 " 1 ,?.\1 ? rl^oV. IIRM, 111- MIU, iiuxrk.111^ c* uaou cm uic uuiuicuo) opening it and holding it above my head, "if you must run away; but you'll get very wet." "I've got my waterproof." "Yes, but?oh, Lord!" ' "What is the matter?" I exclaimed, as he turned very red and white, just as I had seen him on the fort, only now lie looked at mo as" if I were a ghost and my Spectral appearance had frightened him. He did not reply at once, and I cried: "Oh, what is the matter? Aren't you well? Won't you tell me?" "It's all right; that is, I shall be all right in a minute," he answered, in quite a new and hard tone of voice; "don't mind me." "What can it be?" "I tell you it's nothing, Miss Neild," he said. "Don't take any notice of me, please. I had rather you didn't." It was a strange request, but I did not. I maintained n rigid silence, being a little nettled presently at liis own silent movements at my side, his steady stare ahead of him, the stern expression on his face. He marched along in so grave and dumb a fashion at last ' that I could have slapped his face for him. What did he mean by such behavior, I wondered? At the end of the jetty he brought my heart into my mouth by suddenly roaring out: "No, I'll never believe it I It's magic, it's a lying dream, it's gnything but this! I can't believe it of you; I'd rather jump into the 3ea than think of it for another moment." "Think what? Good gracious! why don't you tell me?" "Think that you have deceived me all the time. You, too, of all the lot of them!" "What have I done, Mr. Bird?" "This?this umbrella," he cried. "Well?" "It?it's tho umbrella i dropped down your area! My father's present; I can swear to it anywhere. They're my initials on that silver collar, 'G. B.' Oh! heaven and earth, to fancy for one instant that you?Miss Neild, lam going raving mad. Look at it, look at it!" I stared from him to tho umbrella, which he had thrust into my hands, and felt going mad myself. I looked so terribly mean and guilty, and yet I was so perfectly innocent, and I did not want him now to liavo one thought against me. I was confused; I did not know how to explain; I felt too indignant in the midst of my grief even to try to explain; for he should not have jumped to conclusions in this way, but have waited, and then I burst into tears. "Oh, pray don't cry," ho called out, "for mercy's sake, don't, Jane; I don't care about the umbrella now, I don't mind your taking" "It's?it's not mine!" I screamed out at last. "It was lent mo by Lily Brian, because she thought it?it?it would rain before I got home. There!" "Thank God! What aa awful thief she is for one so young," he cried. "I am so tremendously glad, though, so awfully glad" "Take your umbrella," I cried, pitching it at him; "und I'm glad it's found, too, very," "I don't mean I'm glad I've found it, but that you" "How dare you suspect me I cried, sweep ing majestically away from him, but ho followed me and held the umbrella over my head again, and overwhelmed me with hur ried and incoherent apologies, which I do clined to accept. "Perhaps it's not mine," he said at last "Pray be rational, Miss Neild. 'B' stands fox Brian as well as Bird. Is Mr. Brian's Christian name George, do you think "Don't speak to me. You know it's youi umbrella." "It is a little like it," he said, dismally. "I don't want any miserable evasions, Sir Bird, and I never want to see or speak to you again, and I" "Why, Jenny, what's tho mutter;" cried Lily Brian, suddenly appearing round the corner of the street, and uuder another umbrella, and with a shawl over her arm. "Where have you been? Ma was afraid you wanted more wraps, and has sent mo out with them, and?how d'ye do, Mr. Bird! Who'd have thought of seeing you this wel (lay: "I've offended. Miss Xeild," be said, not smiling in the least at lier arch manner of address to hini. "You! Oh. what about;" she cried. "That nasty, hateful umbrella," I said. "Where did you get it, Lily; oh! where did you get it:" "What's the matter with the umbrella?" asked Lily, very cool and self possessed. "It?it's not yours!" 1 exclaimed. "It never was yours!" "No, it's George's. He lent it mo thi? morning." "And where?where did vour brother get it?" "I don't know." But we did very shortly. George had found it iu his father's area, and, with a total disregard of other people's rights?being young and short of umbrellas?had quietly appropriated it without any fuss. It was like a merciful dispensation having his initials already engraved for him, too. Yes, it was down Mr. Brian's area that Mr. Bird hail dropped liis umbrella that night, and Gooffry had knocked at the next door by mistake. I call him Geoffry now. And a very lucky mistake it was, be always says, even to this day, and I have been Mrs. Bird three years, and there is another little Bird crowing in its nest. too. 'Tis when the heat and fiery fever of his soul is past the sinner feels remorse! S&" Distracting cares vex not the empty skull; they seize on heads that think, ahd hearts that feel. ptecettoncMtf jHtatlmg, DIGGING THE TUNNEL AT LIBBY PRISON. Work could only be possible between the hours of 10 at night, when I the room was generally abandoned by the prisoners because of its inundated condition, and 4 o'clock in the morning, when the earliest risers ' were again astir. It was necessary i to do the work with an old jackknife and one of the chisels previously secured by Rose. It must be done in darkness and without noise, ; for a vigilant sentinel paced on the i Carey street sidewalk just outside ! the door and within 10 feet of the i fireplace. A rubber blanket was proI cured and the soot from the chimney i carefully swept into it. Hamilton, . i with his old knife, cut the mortar j between the bricks and pried a dozen j of them out, being careful to preserve them whole. "The rest of the incision was made i in accordance with the design de! scribed, but no conception could have i been formed beforehand of thesickeniug tediousness of cutting an 4S' shaped hole through a heavy wall with a feeble old jack-knife, in stolen hours of darkness, Rose guarded his comrade against the constant danger of interruption by alert enemies on one side and by blundering friends on the other; and as frequently happens in human affairs, their friends gave them more trouble than their foes. Night after night passed, and still the two men got up after taps from their hard beds, and descended to the dismal and reeking kitchen to bore for liberty. When the sentinel's call at Castle Thunder and at Libby announced -1 o'clock, the dislodged bricks were carefully replaced, and the soot previously gathered in the gum blanket was flung in handfuls against the restored walls, filling the seams so entirely between the bricks as to defy detection. At last, after many weary nights, Hamilton's heroic patience and skill were rewarded, and the way was open to the coveted base of operations, Rat Hell. Now occurred a circumstance that nearly revealed the plot and nearly ended in a tragedy. When the opening was finished, the long rope was made fast to one of the kitchen supporting posts, and Rose proceeded to descend and reconnoiter. He got partly through with ease, but lost his hold in such a mrfnner that his body slipped through so as to pinion his arms and leaye him powerless either to drop lower or return, the bend of the hole being such as to j cramp Ms back and neck terribly , and prevent him from breathing. He strove desperately, but each effort only wedged him more firmly in the awful vice. Hamilton sprang to his aid and did his utmost to effect his release, but, powerful as he was, he could not budge him. Rose was gasping for breath and rapidly getting fainter, but even in this fearful strait he refrained from an outcry that would certainly alarm theguards just outside the door. Hamiltonsaw that without speedy relief his comrade must soon smother. He dashed through the long, dark room up the stairway, over the the forms of several hundred men, and disregarding consequences and savage curses in the dark and crowded room, he trampled upon arms, faces, legs and stomachs, leavi ng riot and blasphemy in his track among the rudely awakened and now famous lodgers of the Chickamauga room. He sought the sleepingplace of Major Geo. II. Fitzsimmons, but he was missing. He, however, found Lieut. F. F. Bennett, of the Eighteenth Regulars '(since a Major in the Ninth United States Cavalry,) to whom he told the trouble in a few hasty words. Both men fairly flew across the room, dashed I down the stairs, and by their united efforts, Rose, half dead and quite speechless, was drawn up from the fearful trap."?Century Magazine. Symbols in the Catacombs.? The following symbols, borrowed from the Scriptures, were frequently represented in the catacombs, and relate to the virtues and duties of the Christian life: The dove, with or without the olive branch, the type of simplicity and innocence; the ship representing sometimes the church as safely sailing through the sea of corruption, with reference to Noah's ark, sometimes the individual soul on its voyage to the heavenly home under the conduct of the storm controllingSaviour; the palm branch, which the seer of the Apocalypse puts into the hands of the elect as the sign of victory ; the anchor, the figure of hope; the lyre, denoting festal joy, sweet harmony; the cock, an admonition to watchfulness, with reference to Peter's fall; the hart, which | pants for the fresh water brooks ; and I the vine, which, with its branches ' and clusters, illustrates the union of i the Christians with Christ according to the parable (John xv, 1-fi), and the richness and fullness of Christian life.?Professor Philip Schafer in The : Century. Curiosities of Friendship.? Curiosities of ^iendship would cover nearly all cases of noted masculine or feminine affinities the world has known. The law that governs friendship has often been stated. A general impression is that opposites match, mate and co-operate more readily than similar temperaments. Goethe could form a friendship most readily with children. Strong natures like pliable natures. Highly intellectu * " I mmmm till ' al people unu necessary resu ?vitu those of le&s intellect and more emotion. There was a philosophy in the , keeping of jesters or "fools" by those j who were burdened by affairs of ' state. Walter Seott loved nothingso j well as his dogs. George Eliot's friendships were for men. Blondes are said to prefer brunettes, and bru! nettes blondes.?Globe-Democrat. , Millions Owe Him Gratitude. i Argand, a poor Swiss, invented a I lamp with a wick iitted into a hollow j cylinder, up which a current of air j was permitted to pass, thus giving a i supply of oxygen to the interior as j well as the exterior of the circular j flame. At first Argand used the j lamp without a glass chimney. One day he was busy in his work room, j and sitting before the burning lamp. < Ilis little brother was amusing hira' self by placinga bottomless oil flask over different articles. Suddenly he j placed it upon the flame of the lamp, which instantly shot up the long neck of the flask with increased brilliancy. It did more, for it flashed into Argand's mind the idea of a lamp chimney, by which his invention was perfect.?Salt Lake Tribune. | JBaT Asking a neighbor why a muI tual friend had not finally prospered, I he replied, "Charley knows the I worth of one hundred dollars, but not of one dollar." That told the story. And it tells the story of the fruitlessness of many in higher fields than that of secular business. They know the worth of great opportunities, but none of the smaller, everyday opportunities, and so lose all.