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• (-•'■ •" • T-.< 'm • ;' ' ' ; | ■ 5?oetvy. i A Thank;til Piu»on . pious purfion yood and true Wa« cro.Hsinj' o’er the seat, When suddenly there Hereby blew A wild and sweeping breeze. He feared the ntf wreck. His heart was sore afraid. He sought the captain on the deck And found him unddismayed. The captain saw his awful fear And led him un to where - The servant of the Lord could hear The sailor* loudly swear, “Yen clearly see,” the captain said, ‘If danger hovered nigh They’d.all be un their knee* instead And;taking grace to die.” The parson felt his words wete true, And when the skies grew fair He marveled how the sailors knew Just when to pray or swear. But when the seas which wildly ilowed Had ceased to plunge and *pou‘, I nto himself he sai : “If showed They know what they’re about.” But later on another storm Came fiercer than before. The parson heard with wild alarm The ocean’s angry roar. He sought the deck with awful dread To near the sailors get. He listened—then he bowed his head-r- “Thank God, they’re swearing yet?’ —[Chicago Herald. nappy We with sn very of all brought a learned in the law. and on the bunks entlcman and a servants, he rode the ship would | work o.’ knitting her open at some By WALTXB BE8ANT. CHAPTER XH. • OOD IlKST YOU. UKKKY GENTUCXBX.” What remains to be toldf Ralph was borne again What more could I have prayed forT While these things went on we were sitting In the kitchen In my mother's eyes I seemed to read a reproach which was not there, f believe, but in my own heart I bad prophesied smooth things, and promised health from soma mysteri ous quarter which had not come “There are five guineas left,’* said my mother ’When these are gone, what shall we dot” 1 tried to comfort her, but. alas! I could And no words Oh. how helpless are women, since they cannot eveq earn bread enough to Uve upon When the bread winner can work no longer, hapless la our lot What were we to do when tbeee five guineas were gonef For, if I could find work to keep my fingers going from morn till night. I could not make enough to keep even myself, without counting my father and my mother What should we do when this money was gonef We must live upon charity, or we must go upon the parish. At the moment of greatest need my faith failed me. I thought no more of ibe letter I was to receive. I ceased to hope, my paradise disappeared I was nothing In the world bat s helpless wo man. a beggar, the daughter of poor, eld, broken down people, whose father was Uttla better than a belpleas lunatic. We heard from the parlor, where they were holding the auction, a murmur, of voices, some high and some low Sud denly there was a change; from a murmur of words there arose a roar of words—s tumult of words. Strange and wonder- full I sheold have recognized the voice which moat 1 loved. But 1 took little heed. The misery of the moment was very gnat "So”—now, indeed. I heard the voice of his worship, which was a full, deep and sonorous voice—“so may all traitors and villains be confounded! Kidnaper, where are now thy wilest” I heard afterward how Mathew would have slunk away, but they told him (It was not true) that his wife was without brandishing her cudgel So he stayed, while his attorney, ignorant of what all this meant, congratulated his client upon the asla of the cottage. Five hundred pounds, he said, would not only suffice to pay his own bill of costs, which now, with expense of traveling and loss of time, amounted to a considerable sum, but also repay Mathew’s mortgage of £200 In full, and still leave a small sum for the unfortunate gentleman they had sold up Mathew made no re ply He looked fearfully Into his cousin’s face; it waa stern and cold. There was no hope to be gleaned from that face, but the certainty of scrutiny and condemns Uon. What had he done to merf;. lent encyt Conscience—or remorse—told him that ha had tried to kidnap his cousin's sweetheart; to drag her down to destltn tlon, while, as regards his own trust and guardianship, none knew better than himself the state In which his accounts would be found. The words of Mr. Carnaby reached every ear. But yet I heard them not, as I sat looking before me la mare despair. For I knew not what to hope for. what to ad vise, %r what to do. Then the door was thrown open, and there was a trampling of feet which I re garded not at all, or as only part of this misery The feet, I supposed, belonged to the man who was coming to turn us out. 1 hurled my face in my hands and bunt Into violent weeping “Is this some fresh misfortune?" It was my mother who sprang to her feet and ■poke. ‘Are you come, sir. to say that we owe another £200? What would you have with us on such a dayf We have nothing for you. sir, nothing at all, who ever you are; we are stripped naked.” “Madam.” this was his worship’s voice, “you know not who this gentleman is Look not for more misfortunes, bat for Joy and happiness." Joy and happiness I What Joy? What happiness? I began to prick up my ears, but without much hope and with no faith. “My lord”—this time It was my father, who saw before him a splendid stranger, and concluded in his madness that it waa some great nobleman come to visit him— “my lord, I thank yon for the honor of this visit. My lady will call the men and maids. I fear you are fatigued with travel You shall take, my lord, a single bowl of turtle soup, as s snsck, or stay stomach, the finest ever made for the lord mayor, with s glass or two of Imperial tokay, the rarest In any cellar, before your dinner. Not a word, my lord, not a word, till you are refreshed; not a word, I In sist." At thess utterances I raised my head, hut before 1 had time to look around me a hand waa laid upon my shoulder, while a voice whispered in my ear. “Drury!” Oh, we foolish women! Far when the thing we moat long for Is vouchsafed, in steed of prayers and praise upon bended knee, we fell to crying and laughing, both togethor. Why, when 1 recovered a Uttla, they I concerning themselves about me, ; to have bami doing honor to Ralph. The fugleman hndT^ass of cold water in his hand, my mother waa Tan was bant ing a feather, my eweetboart waa holding my bead, and my father wi 9 °f tfrj clerk. !wslde his first to the mill Bo found Barbara engaged In her usual : o.’ knitting with the Bible before chapter of prophetic woe No change in her. exrept that sho I looked thinner, and the crow's feet lay , about her eyes Hhe recognized him. but showed no emotion “You are come home again." she said. “I have expected this Mathew said tho girl lied but he was afraid, and 1 knew | she did not. Girls do not lie about such ; things Yon come at a fine time, when I your sweetheart Is begging ber bread.” ! “Whatr asked Ralph “I said she was begging ber bread. She paid you were prosperous if fine clothes : mean aught you may be Lord grant they were honestly come by " “1 will now. Col Bmbleton." said the attorney, “place my clerk In possession and aeal everything." "Where Is Mathew?" asked Ralph. "He is in the town. You will find him selliug their cottage—Drusilla’s cottage By this time your dainty girl will be ia the road, bag and baggage.” “Whatr “Pride Is humbled. The girl has be gun to repent of her stubboranesa Of course so fins a gentleman as you would scorn a beggar wench. ” With ouch words did this foolish spiteful women inflame the heart of a man whom she should have conciliated with words of welcome. He left her and rode into the town with such speed as the snow, now two feet deep, wottld allow. An hour later. Mathew, pale and trem bling. rushed breathless into tho mill "Has he been hereF Barbara nodded. Mathew went hastily to his room. Here he found the attorney with his clerk. “These are my papers,” he cried, now in desperation. “Everything is mine The bouse is mine, the mill is mine, the farm is mine. ” “Gently, gently," said the lawyer. “Let ns hear. ” Mathew played his last card. “A second will was found,” he said; “it Is In the desk." “We will wait," said tbs lawyer, “until the return of Col Embleton." When Ralph came back, accompanied by Mr Carnaby, he found Mathew wait ing for him. “Now," said the lawyer, “let us see this second will. ” He opened the desk and drew forth the paper which Mathew pointed oat. When be had unfolded and looked at it for a moment, he looked curiously at Mathew. "This," he said, "is your second will?" “It is." Mathew replied. “Found five years ago. and” “Quite enough." said the lawyer. “Friend," he had by this time compared the signature with that of the first will, “1 make no charge. I only Inform you as a fact that this document Is valueless, as bearing neither date nor witnesses, and if It did. it would still be valueless, because the signature is a forgery, plain and palp able It will hang some one if it is put forward." Mathew dropped his hands by his side This was the fruit of his labors. He had forged the will, he bad made it of no use •na jewels for uw twir wtueo my lover— I bade me so fine that his worship was se good as to say that never a more beautiful bride had been married, or would here after be married. In Wark worth church. Thus do fine feathers make fine birds. When the next bride is married in bro caded silk, with a hoop, ber hair done by the barber, and ber homely person decor ated with Jewels, people will be found ta say the same thing Yet, since my hus band. who is the only person I must con sider, was so good as to find his wife beautiful, should I not rejoice and be thaakful for this strange power of one’s outward figure—women cannot under stand It—which bewitches men and robe them of their natural sense until they be come used to it After the wedding we went home to the mill, where my husband spread a great feast In the evening came the mummers with Sailor Nan. who drank freely of punch, and wished os joy in language more nautical than polite. His worship slept at the mill because he was overcome with the abundance and strength of the punch. Even the fugleman, for the first time in man's memory, had to be carried to bed. preserving his stiffness of back even in tho sleep of intoxication. And the next day we had another royal feast, to which all were invited who had known my dear husband in his youth. But to me it was a continual feast to be in tho presence of my dear, to have my hand in his and to rejoice in the warmth of his and steadfast eyes. A Story of American Life. Frontier By OapL CHARLES KINO, U.8.A., Author of "The CotonePa Daughter,” “fYom the Ranke” u The Deserter” Etc. Copyrighted 1888 by J. & Uppiocott Company. Philadelphia, sad published by spscial arrange ment through tho American Press. CHAPTER L by Perry’s sudden exclamation. Mrs. aoout it? ui course you ao not seex ex- Belknap turned languidly in her ham- pert testimony In asking me. He tries, I niock glanoedover her pretty wi suppose, to adapt himself to. circum- shoulder. The colonel followed her eyes stances. But why do you ask?" with his and gave a start of surprise. “Because 1 see that he has been indue- The doctor turned slowly and composed- ing Hr*. Belknap to take off that little | \y anil looked silently towards tho glis- tassel on the button of his cap. He has ; teuing object, and then upon ttie officers worn it when off duty ever since he j of the cavalry there fell RUdden luitonish- eainc; and we supposed it was something ment. he cherished; I know she did.’’ “What on earth ebuid that havo been?” Graham broke forth in a peal of merry : asked the colonel. “It gleamed liko the laughter, but gave no further reply, for head light of a locomotive, away down just then the colonel aud the doctor left there in the valley of the Monee, then their chairs, and, sauntering over to the hammock, brought mighty relief to Bel knap at the whist table and vexation of spirit to his pretty wife. The flirtation was broken at a most interesting point, and Perry, rising suddenly, came over and joined Mrs. Lawrence. If she expected to see him piqued or annoyed at the interruption and some what perturbed in rqanner, she was greatly mistaken. Nothing could have been more sunshiny and jovial than the greeting he gave her. A laughing apol ogy to Graham for spoiling his tete-a- tete was accomplished in a moment, and then down by her side li? sat and plunged into a merry description of his experi ences at dinner, where lie had been placed next to the chaplain’s wife on the suddenly went out “Be silent a moment and watch,” whispered Mrs. Lawrence to Perry. “You will sec it again; and—watch tire doctor.” Surely enough, even as they were all looking about and commenting on the strange apparition, it suddenly glared forth a second time, shining full and lus trous as an unclouded planet, yet miles away beyond and above tho fringe of cottonwoods that wound, southeastutard with tho little stream. Full ludf a min ute it shone, and then, abruptly as be fore, was hidden from sight. Perry was about starting forward to join the colonel when a little hand was laid upon his arm. “Wait; once more you’ll see it,” she whispered. “Then take me in to Capt. Do you see that tho doctor We are all. 1 hope. Christian folk, wherefore no one will be surprised to hear that on the morning of the day after the marriage, which was Christmas day, after the singing of the hymn, “When the Shepherds Watch their Flocks by Night,” my husband, giving me his hand, led me forth before all the people, and t In their presence thanked God solemnly for his safe return, and for other blessings (1 knew full well what these meant) Then the fugleman leading, his pike held at aalute. he recited the Lord's prayer Thus In seemly and solemn fashion was the long sorrow of nine years turned into a Joy which will endure, I doubt not, beyond this earthly pilgrimage. THE END. Title Page*. A magazine has just begun to write “The History of a Title Page.’’ It may seem a Email subject, but it isan inter esting one. It lias also a very marked bearing on tiie history of literature In volved in it we find the questions of titles, new, borrowed or unitated; of authorship, real or assumed; of dates, accurate, inaccurate, or absent alto gether. In tho mere arrangement of type on the title page, not much vari ety is to be looked Tor. Some origin ality in that respect is shown now and then by publishers with taste and fancy, out it is obvious that not much | novelty is feasible. Every now and then wo have the name of the author at the top of the page, instead of in the middle, after the French fashion; the effect is quaint, and pleases. Now and again, the title of the book starts at the left hand top corner, and is run on hke a sentence till nnished, instead of being divided and spread out over the page, in orthodox style. But when all has been done that can bo done in this and other directions, the present day publisher soon discovers that tho variations are by no means endless. device which has not of The only JWBH by neglecting the witnesses; he had [ a {£ been greatly exploited is that of forged it so clumsily that be was at once the illustrated title page, with its detected. broad margin of artistic design in- “Any well wisher of yours, sir,” said | closing the smallest possible amount the lawyer, "would recommend yon to of type. This used to bo very popular, put that paper in the fire. ” but has now fallen into almost entire Mathew did ao without a word. disuse. The preference now is for title pages of simplicity in design and brevity in wording. In tho latter re fer, i presently I with much i rthat be Us ?i %H, • whispered with much gravity long sines designed Us DraslUs tat lordnUp, fast arrived, who. though "Sir," said the lawyer, “you have saved your neck. Have you any more to say about the will?” He had no more to say The plots and designs of nine years came to this lame and Impotent conclusion. “Then, Mr Humble. ” the attorney con- tinned, “1 have nothing more to say than this Col. Embleton expects an accurate statement of accounts and payment to himaf all sums due to him without delay.” Mathew made no reply; be was defeated. He left the room, and presently, one of them looking through the open door, saw him leave the house with his sister. Ralph spoke not one single word to him, good or bad By this time he had heard of Mathew’s attempted abduction and all his Iniquities. There was no room in his heart for pity In the morning Sailor Nan came to drew her pay She heard that her husband had deserted her She lamented the fact, be cause the had Intended to be kept In pork, nun and tobacco ao long as he was alive. Bat she was easily consoled with a jorum of steaming punch. Tims vanished from among us one who had wrought ao mnch eyil. for which I hope that we have long since entirely for given him (bat he was a desperate vil lain). and we never knew what became of him. It was ten yean later that Barbara came back alone. We found her in the porch one summer evening She was worn and thin, and dressed In dreadful rags. “Oh," 1 cried, moved to pity by her misery, “come in and eat. and let me find some better clothes for you.” She refused, bat she took a cup of milk. “I want to see the boy.” she replied in her old manner of speech. When Ralph came home she said what she had to say “Mathew ought to have had the mill If it had been his, he would not have taken to drink and evil courses You were an interloper, and we both hated the eight of you. When you went away I used to pray that you might never come back. The waiting for you and the fear of yon made him wicked. That Is all I have to say " "Where Is Mathew?” “Dead. Ask me no more about He is dead.” Ralph led her, unresisting, [into the houaa “Wife," he said to mo, “you have heard Barbara’s confession. I, too, have had hard thoughts about her. Let us forgive, as we hope tor forgiveness. ” She stayed with us that night—an un willing and ungracious guest—and the next day Ralph placed her in a cottage and gave her an allowance of money, which she took without thanks. Perhaps her heart grew leas bitter as years fell upon her, bat I know not, for she died and made no sign. On that year Christmas dsy fell on a Thursday Now, Ralph, who though a grave man and the colonel of his regi ment, showed more than the customary impatience of lovers, would be content with nothing short of being manied on the very next day after Us return. It is almost Incredible that he should have had the forethought to bring with him a special license, so that we were not obliged to have the bans read o rt. Could I refuse him anything? The afore, on Wedneedav morning, the very next day after be came book, we were married ia the pweenee of aD the town, I believe— man, warns* ipd child, while the hells nag out, sMl Mr Joyful hearts were warm, despite the ebid without. I was so pom In worldly goods that 1 must have gone to the sacred ceremony with nothing better than my plain stuff frock bat for the benevolence of good Mrs Carnaby, who Mb me a few silk gown, which, with al Unis ef tor- brevity in wording, spect wo go, perhaps, to an extreme, reserving all our explanations of the volume’s scope for the preface, and thus giving trouble to the casual in spectors of books. On one point one might almost ask for legislative enact ment—on tho point of including on every title page the date of the year in which the work is published. There are publishers who systematically evade this duty, and tho result is that one cannot tell whether their publi cations are old or new, without mak ing inquiries which cost time, and which should not bo forced upon the weary student—London Globe. How Kavm U Maiiufaotared. I suppose most people by this time know the orthodox mode of preparing this. It is chewed, or ought to be, as in Samoa, by young and of course pretty girls, and the masticated stuff being thrown into a bowl and mixed with water, the woody particles are fished oat with a wisp of the fiber v&u (a malvaceous tree, Paritium sp.). and the liquor is then car ried round to each guest In order Of course, by the oid school this mode of preparation is thought very superior to the Tongan innovation of pounding or grating the root Certainly the ingre dients differ somewhat, and the dash of human secretion In the orthodox mixture possibly promotes digestion—an effect not to be despised after a square meal of half a dozen pounds of yam! Even In the hnmblest menage the na tional bowl is not prepared without some form and circumstance—elaborate tradi tional motions of the hands in clearing the bowl and rinsing the fiber, strict at tention to precedence in handing the cup to the guests (a matter in whlch.Jwhen Europeans were concerned, I was in other islands sometimes consulted), and to other points of etiquette, the transgression of which Is viewed with some severity Thus it is derigueur to empty your cocoa- nut cup at a single draught. On my first occasion of drinking I had neglected this role, for the cap was large, and the-taste, as I thought, nasty Acec rdingly, on re turning the cap, which you do by sending it spinning along the floor to the master of ceremonies, the usnal quiet clapping of hands and murmur of applause which should follow this was withheld. On dis covering the cause of the silence I has toned to explain that I had never tasted the cap before, and thought It so good that I could not resist prolonging the pleasure, but I saw that my solecism was too great to be easily excused.—Block- wood’s Magazine. The Crlsle at Waterloo. All at onco came the tragedy. To the left of tho English and on our light, tho head of the column of cui- raasiers reared with a fearful clamor. Arrived on the ridge, wild, furious and running to the annihilation of the squares and cannon, tho cuiras- mere saw between them and the Eng lish a ditch—a grave. It was the sunken road of Oman. It was a fright ful moment There was the ravine, unlooked for, gaping, before their very horses’ feet two fathoms deep be tween its banks. The second rank pushed in the first and the third push ed in the second. The hones reared, fell backward, stranded with their feet in the air, heapingup and over turning their riders. There was no power to retreat; the whole column was but a projectile; the momentum in together pell meU, most a tt > Duh and] T WAS nearly midnight, and still the gay party lingered on the veranda. There had been a fortnight of “getting settled” at the new post, preceded by a month of march ing that had brought the battalion from distant service to this strange Texan sta tion. The new comers had been hospita bly weicomed by the officers of the little garrison of infantry, and now, in recog nition of their many courtesies, the field officer commanding the arriving troops had been entertaining the resident offi- ! cers and ladies at dinner. The colonel was a host in himself, but preferred not to draw too heavily on his reserves of anecdote and small talk, so he had called in two of his subalterns to assist in the pleasant duty of being attentive to the infantry ladies, and just now, at 11:45 p m., lie was wondering if Lieut. Perry iiad not too literally construed his in structions, for that young gentleman was devoting himself to Mrs. Belknap in a manner so marked as to make the cap tain. her lawful lord and master, mani festly uneasy. Mrs. Belknap, however, seemed to en joy the Situation immensely. She was a pretty woman at most times, as even her rivals admitted. She was a beauti ful woman at all times, waa the verdict of the officers of the regiment when they happened-to speak of the matter among themselves. She was dark, with lus trous eyes and sweeping lashes, with coral lips and much luxuriance of tress, and a way of glancing sideways from under her heavily fringed eyelids that tho younger and more impressionable men found quite irresistible when ac corded the rare luxury of a tete-a-tete. Belknap was a big and boisterous man; Mrs. Belknap was small in stature, and soft—very soft—of voice. Belknap was either brusquely repellent or oppress! vely cordial in manner; Mrs. Belknap was either gently and exasperatingly indif ferent to those whom she did not care to attract, or caressingly sweet to those whose attentions she desired. In their own regiment the young offi cers soon found that unless they wished to be involved in an unpleasantness with Belknap it was best to lie only very mod erately devoted to his pretty wife, and those to whom an unpleasantness with the big captain might have had no ter rors of consequence were deterred by the fact that Mrs. Belknap's devotee among tho “youngsters” had invariably become an object of coldness and aver- lion to the other dames and damsels of Hie garrison. Very short lived, there fore, had been the little flirtations that sprang up from time to time in those frontier posts wherein Capt. and Mrs. Belknap were among the chief orna ments of society; but now matters seemed to be taking other shape. From the very day that handsome Ned Perry dismounted in front of Belknap’s quar ters and with his soldiery salute reported to the then commanding officer that Col. Brainard and his battalion of cavalry would arrive in tho course of two or three hours, Mrs. Belknap fiiad evinced a contentment in his society and assumed an air of quasi-proprietorship that served to annoy her garrison sisters more than a little. For the time being all the cav alrymen were bachelors, either by ac tual rank qr "by brevet,” as none of the ladies of lift —th accompanied the bat talion on its march, and none were ex pected until the stations of the regiment in its new department had been definite ly settled. The post surgeon, too, was living a life of single blessedness as the early spring wore on, for his good wife had betaken herself, with the children, to the distant east as soon os the disap pearance of the winter’s snows rendered staging over the hard prairie roads a matter of no great danger or discomfort. It was the doctor himself who, seated in an easy chair at tho end of the ve randa, first called the colonel’s attention to Perry’s devotional attitude at Mrs. riel*nap s sme. one was reclining m a hammock, one little, slippered foot occa sionally touching tho floor aud impart ing a gentle, swinging motion to the affair, and making a soothing swish- swish of skirts along the matting under neath. Her jeweled hands looked very slender and fragile aud white as they gleamed in tho soft light that shone from the open windows of tho parlor. They were busied in- straightening out the kinks in the gold cord of his forage cap and in rearranging a little silken braid and tassel that was fastened in a clumsy, man like fashiou to one of the buttons at the side; he, seated in a camp chair, was bending forward so that his handsome, shapely head was only a trifle higher than hers, and the two— hers so dark and rich in coloring, his so fair and massive and strong—came rather too close together for the equa nimity of Capt. Belknap, who had es sayed to take a hand at whist in the par lor. One or two of the ladies, also, were silent observers of the scene—silent as to the scene because, being in conversation at tho time with brother officers of Lieut Perry, they, were uncertain as yet how comments on his growing flirtation might bo received. That their eyes should oc casionally wander towards the hammock and then glance with sympathetic sig nificance at those of some fair ally and intimate was natural enough. But when it became presently apparent that Mrs. Belknap was actually unfastening the little silken braid that had hung on Ned Perry’s cap ever since the day of his ar rival-all the whiMM, looking shyly up in his eyes asnHPfingera worked; when it was seen that she presently de tached it from the button and then, half hesitatingly, but evidently in compliance with his wishes, handed it to him; when he was seen to tore it carelessly—even contemptuously—away and then bend down lower, as though gazing into her shaded eyes, Mrs. Lawrence could stand it no longer. “Mr. Graham,” said she, “isn’t your friend, Mr. Perry, something of a flirt?” “Who?—Ned?" asked Mr. Graham, in well feigned amaze and with sudden glance towards the object of hie inquiry. “How on earth should I know anrthinx one hand, and she had been properly ag grieved at his attentions to Mrs. Belknap I^wrence. on the other. is leaving?” “You must remember that Mrs. Wells Without saying aword to any one, the is a very strict Presbyterian, Mr. Perry; post surgeon had very quietly withdrawn and, for that "matter, none of us have ! from the group on tho veranda. He seen a dinner suck as tho colonel gave us could not well leave by the front this evening for ever and ever so long. We are quite unused to the ways of civilization; whereas you have just come from the east—and long leave. Perhaps it is the fashion to bo all devotion to one’s next door neighbor at .dinner.” “Not if she he as repellent and vener able as Mrs. Wells, I assure you. Why, I thought she would have been glad to leave the table when, after having re fused sherry and Pontet-Canet for up wards of au hour, her glass was filled with champagne when she happened to bo looking the other way." “It is the first dinner of tho kind she has ever seen here, Mr. Perry, and I don’t supposo either Mr. or Mrs. Wells has been up so late before in years. He would havo'enjoyed staying and watch ing whist, but she carried him off almost as soon as wo left the table. Our society has been very dull, you know—only our selves at the post all this last year, and nobody outside of it.” “One would suppose that with all this magnificent cattle range there would bo some congenial people ranching near you. Are there none at all?” “Absolutely none! There are some ranches down in the Washita country, but only one fine one near us; and that might as well be ou the other side of the Atlantic. No one from there ever comes here; and Dr. Quin is tho only living soul in the garrison who ever got within the walls of that ranch. What ho saw there ho positively refuses to tell, despite all our entreaty.” “You don’t tell me there’s a ranch with a mystery hero near Rossiter!” ex claimed Mr. Perry, with sudden interest. “Why, I do, indeed! Is it possible you have been hero two whole weeks and haven’t heard of Duuraven Ranch?” j “I’vo hoard there was such a thing; I saw it from a distance when out hunting tho other day. But what’s the mystery? —what’s the matter with it?” “That's what we all want to know— and cannot find out. Now, there is an exploit worthy your energy and best efforts, Mr. Perry. There is a big, wealthy, well stocked ranch, the finest homestead buildings, we oro told, in all this part of Texas. They say it is beau tifully furnished—that it has a fine library, a grand piano, all manner of things indicative of culture and refine ment among its occupants—but the own er only comes around once or twice a year, and is an iceberg of an English man. All tho people about the ranch are English, too, and the most repellent, boorish, discourteous lot of men you ever saw. When the Eleventh were here they did everything they could to be civil to them, but not an invitation would they accept, not one would they extend; and so from that day to this none of tho officers have had any inter course with tho people at the ranch, and tho soldiers know very little more. Once 1 or twice a year some very ordinary look- ing men arrive who are said to be very distinguished people—in England; but 1 they remain only a little while, and go away as suddenly as they came.” “And you havo never seen any of them?” “Never, except at a distance. Nor has any one of the officers, except Dr. Quin." “And you have newr heard anything about the inmates and why they keep up this policy of exclusiveness?” “We have heard all manner of things —some of them wildly romantic, some mysteriously tragic, And all of them, proMtuiy, uusuiu. ,vi ail events, Cupu Lawrence has told mo he did not wish mo to repeat what I hail heard, or to be concerned in any way with the stories afloat; so you must ask somebody else. Try the doctor. To change the subject, Mr. Perry, I see you havo lost that mys terious little silken braid and tassel you wore on your cap button. I fancied there was some romance attached to it, and now it is gone.” Perry laughed, his blue eyes twinkling with fun: “If I will tell you how and where I got that tassel, will you tell me what you have heard about Dunraven Ranch?” “I cannot, unless Capt. Lawrence withdraws his prohibition. Perhaps lie will, though, for I think it waa only be cause he was tired of hearing all our conjectures aud theories.” "Well, will you tell me if I can induce the captain to say he has no objection?” persisted Perry. . “I will to-morrow—if you will tell me about the tassel to-night,” “Is it a positive promise? You will tell me to-morrow all you have heard about Dunraven Ranch if I will tell you to night all I know about the tassel?” “Yoe—a promise." “Very well, then. You are a witness to the compact, Graham. Now for my confession. I have worn that tassel ever since our parting ball at Fort Riley. That Is to say, it has been fastened to that button ever since tho ball until to night; but-Fve been mighty careful not to wear that cap on any kind of duty.” “And yet you let Mrs. Belknap take it off to-night?" “Why shouldn’t I? There was no sentiment whatever attached to it I haven't tlio faihtest idea whose it was, and only tied it there for the fun of the thing and to make Graham, here, ask questions.” “Mr. Perry!” gaspe-d Mrs. Lawrence. “And do you mean that Mrs. Belknap knows—that you told her what you have just told me?" “Well, no," laughed Perry. “I fancy Mrs. Belknap thinks as you thought— that it was a gage d’amour. Hallo! look at that light away out there across the prairie. What can that be?” Mrs. Lawrence rose suddenly to her feet and gazed southeastward in the di rection in which the young officer point ed. It was a lovely, starlit night. A soft wind was blowing gently from the south and bearing with it the fragrance of spring blossoms and far away flower- •So. Others, ton had nrisen attracted without attracting attention; but he strolled leisurely into tho hall, took up a book that lay on the table, and passed through the group of officers seated smoking and cflatting there, entered the sitting room on the south side of the hall—the side opposite the parlor where the whist game was in progress—and there he was lost to sight. A third time tho bright light burst upon the view of tho gazers. A third time, sharply and suddenly, it disap peared. Then for a moment all was silence and watchfulness; but it came no more. Perry looked qaestioningly in his com panion’s face. She had turned a little white, and ho felt sure that she was shivering. “Are you cold?" he asked her, gently. “No—not that; hut I hate mysteries, after what I’ve heard, and wo haven’t seen that light in ever so long. Come hero to tho corner ono moment." And she led him around to tho other flank of tho big wooden, barrack like residence of the commanding officer. “Look up there,” she said, pointing to a dark window under the peaked dormer roof of tho largo cottago to the south. “That is tho doctor’s house.” In a few seconds a faint gleam seemed to creep through tho slats. Then tho slats themselves wore thrown wldo open, a white shado was lowered, and, with tho rays behind it growing brighter ev ery instant, a broad white light shone forth over tho roof of tho veranda. An other moment and footsteps wero heard along tho doctor’s porch, footsteps that presently approached them along tho grass. “Come,” sho said, plucking at his sleeve, “como away; it is tho doctor.” “For what reason?" ho answered. “That would seem hke hiding. No, Mrs, Lawrence, let us stay until ho comes.” But tho doctor passed them with brief and courteous salutation; spoke of tho beauty of the night and tho holm Of tho summery air, and went* in again by tho main door to tho colonel’s quarters. Then Perry turned to his partner: “Well, Mrs. Lawrence, what does it all mean? Is this part of what you had to tell me?” “Don't ask me now. 1—Ididuotwant to see what we Live seen, hut I had heard queer stories and could not believe them. Take me in to Capt. Lawrence, please. And, .Mr. Perry, you won't sjK'ak of this to any ono, will you? Indeed, if I had known, I would not have come out here for the world; but I didn’t believe it, even when she went away and took the children.” "Who went away?" “Mrs. Quin—the doctor’s wife. Aud she was such a sweet woman, and so de voted to him.” “Well, pardon me, Mrs. Lawrence, I don’t see through this thing at all. Do you mean that the doctor has anything to do with tho mystery?" She bowed her head as they turned back to the house; “I must not tell you any more to-night. You will be sure to hoar something of it all, here. Every body on the piazza raw the lights, and all who wero here before you came knew what they meant." “What wero they?” “Signals, of some kind, from Dunraven Ranch.” (To be continued.) my companion to a uttla conversation. There could be no Impropriety in » man of ‘ was 88) endeavoring to begulla of a lazy Journey by convers ing with a fellow traveler, a school girl- end certainly not out of her teens. It waa, therefore, with au almost paternal feeling that I addressed ber. “There are not many passengers by this train,” I remarked. “Two thousand and throe,"* was the answer, that not a little startled my equanimity. I looked at the speaker, expecting to find a mischievous smile dancing in her eyes, or larking at tho corners of her month. Nothing of the sort. She was perfectly serious, even stern, and her eyes had still the same dreamy far away look , in them. “Very absent minded, or else In lovo,” I thought to myself. However, I tried again. "I think wo shall havo a fine day for our journey," I ventured to remark. She turned upon me with that fierce, despairing, yet restless look tliat wo see in a trapped rat “How you tulle, talk, talk!" sho said In dignantly “But” “Are you mad?” sho screamed In a tone of Intensified shrillness, and with such an awful, hungry look In her eyes, that the truth flashed npon mo like an inspiration. Sho was mad! Medical mnu as I am, a fooling of hor ror overcamo mo when I reflected that 1 was shut up alone In tho carriage of a gate 1 train, traveling at express speed, with a Schedule of the Hi R.R. Hartsvillk. 8. C., Dec. DAILY MULED THAI 7.15 A. M. 7.40 “ 8.05 “ Leaves Hartsville, Leaves Jovann, Arrive at Floyd’s, Making connection with the South bound passenger train on the Cheraw & Darlington Railnfed. RETURNING. Leave Floyd’s, 10.00 A. M Leave Jovann. 10.80 “ Arrive at Hartsville, 10.00 “ This train waits two hours, if mmrssn ry, for the North bound freight train on C. fir. D. R. R. J. L. COKER. President. lunatic. True. I was a strong man, sho only a girl But It Is Inconceivable what extreme strength is possessed by many of the Insane I have known a woman thus afflicted require two, and even three, powerful men to restrain her during one of her paroxysms. However, I endeavored to keep as cool os possible as I looked tho young girl steadily in tho face. Sho looked at mo for a moment or so without quailing; then she sank back in her corner, resumed her apathetic posture and sat gazing out of tho window with tho far away look In her eyes, os If no such person as myself was in existence. "Poor girl!" I thought; and I began to wonder who or what sho could bo, and how sho came to be traveling alone. Could sho havo escaped from an asylum? If so how came sho to be possessed o!’ suf ficient firads to procure a railway ticket? I had had some experience in “mad cases,” and I know that tho most out rageous ones are those where tho patient maintains an even sullenncss of de meanor. Tho girl's ease did not seem to mo to be ono of them. On tho contrary, her sudden change of mood when I an gered her seemed to indicate it to bo a case of temporary aberration of mind, and consequently a curable one. I looked at my watch. In a quarter of au hour wo should bo at Basingstoke. I was In tho very act of returning my watch to my pocket when my companion, with a mocking laugh—tho peculiarly metallic ring of which it is quite impossible to de scribe—literally hurled herself upon mo with overwhelming force, broke tho watch from its chain and scut it spinning through tho window In another second sho was endeavoring to force herself also through tho window 1 Then commenced a terrible struggle, of which I even yet shudder to think. My muscles wero strained to their utmost limit of tension, tho perspiration poured down my face, and my arms felt as if about to bo wrenched from their sockets. And all this to restrain one of tho sex commonly called tho “weaker” from self destruction. All this time tho poor girl uttered uo sound that could give warning to the guard or our fellow passengers of tho ter rible struggle for life or death that waa going on within a few yards of them. As for my own voice, the extraordinary physical effort 1 was making to restrain tho would bo sulcido entirely prevented my making tho slightest use of it. But just as my powers were failing mo, and I felt that I could no longer prolong the struggle, tho train began perceptibly to slacken speed. “Thank heaven! Basingstoke at lost." What followed is easy to relate. Of course, assistance was at hand, and tho unfortunate young lady was removed to a place of safety From letters which wo found on her and some articles of jewelry, which wo advertised, wo speedily dis covered her friends. Naturally I, as a medical man, would not lose sight of her till I had discovered them. The patient proved to bo a member of a German family, naturalized in England, who was subject to periodical attacks of mental aberration, but had never actually been la an asylum. Daring tho attacks, which Invariably came on without any warning, so that it was difficult to watch her, she was seized with a restless desire to wander over tho j country, and, it appeared, had merely selected the Southwestern lino because it happened to bo tho nearest to her own homo. Sho had boon so long without an attack that her mother and sisters had on the previous night ventured to go to an even ing party, leaving Lotta fast asleep in bed at homo. During their absence sho eluded the vigilance of the servants, got up and dressed herself, walked about for some time and took a ticket for the early Ports mouth mail—at least that was what she j imagined, and told us, on her recovery. 1 Her memory, howover, was very Imper fect, but tho poor child must certainly have walked about tho streets for some tlmo prior to tho departure of tho ex press. It was natural that under tho circum stances—I havo already stated that I had had considerable experienco In such cases —her friends should ask mo to endeavor a cure. I undertook it and entirely succeeded. And also I undertook and succeeded in something else. It is my wife who Is looking over my shoulder as I write, and who says: “My dear, the maddest act of all my life was when” But here I stop.—HartfonYTimes. Te'Uiiff KiigiisKin*-h i* CretmUty. An American gentleman who was re- FOR C. & D. AND C. & 8. RAILROAD 8 PaisiDiaT’sOnrics ) C. & D. and C. A 8. RAILROADS. V Charleston, S.C., May 12, 1889. j On ami nfitr May 12, the tralai oa these roads will run follows (Sunda ex cepted) every day: DOWM TRAIM. L».tve Wadesboro Bennetts Moreen s.,■•«,,•• ••••«•••• •••• 6.86 McFarland 6.60 Leave Cheraw • •••••••» ••••#•••••■*••• • I e 80 Cash’ Seeaoa*•••••• 7« 46 Society Hill 8.02 Dove’s 8.22 Darlington 8.42 Palmetto - 8 66 Arrive at Florence 9 16 vr TRAIN. Lc*ve Florence 8.10 P M Palmetto 8 26 Darlington 8.86 Dove’s 8.62 Society Hill 9.12 Cash’s 9 17 LcaveCheraw 9.43 P M McFarlan 10.08 Morven’e 10.20 Bennett’a 10.85 Lake Wadesboro ...11.00 Freight Train going up. Leave Florence 7.00 am Arrive Darlington T.46 a m Freight going down Arrive Darlington t.00 p m Leave Darlington 3 60 p ro Arrive Florence 4.!0pm A F. RAVEN EL, Pres. G II Mavier Tmnepririaiion. InTEW SOHEXJTTXjE OkTMEA.STERN RAILROAD. N' ClIARLKHTON, 8. C., 'lay 12, 1889. On and after this dale the fol’owing schedule will be run : GOING SOUTH. No. 27, Dally. Leave Florence •1 85 a m Leave Kingstrce 2 29 a m Arrive Laifes 2 60 a m Leave Lanes 2 50 a m Arrive Charleston 6 00 a in No. 23, Daily. Leave Florence *9 80 a m Leave Kingstree 10 66 a n Arrive Lancs 11 20 a i Leave Lanes 11 20a i Arrive Charleston 1 30 a m No 63. Leave Lanes *7 60 I*. M. Arrive C'hnrlegton 9 80 p. m. I rain No. G3 takes No. 68 South of Lanes Train on C A D UR conn *ta at Flor ence with No 23 Train GOING NORTH. No, 78, Daily. Leave Charleston Arrive Lanes Leave Lanes Leave Kiugstrce Arrive Florence No. M. Leave Cnarlerlou Arrive Lanes Leave Lanes Leave Kiugstrce Arrive Florence •12 26 am 2 46 a m 2 60 a m 3 10 a ui 4 20 a m •4 30 p m 6 28 p m 6 28 p ui U 46 p m 7 66 p m No. 62. Daily. Leave Charleston 7 '0 am Arrive Lanes ( i0 a m •Daily, f Daily except Sun Train No. 62 ttkes No. 02 North Lanes Train No. 14 connects at Flor with Train on C & D R U for Cheraw „an«l Wadesboro. N. C. Nos 62 runs through to Columbia | via Central R R ofS C. ! Nos. 78 and 14 run solid to Wilmington, N, C., making close counection with V. R ; W R R for all points north. J R. KENLY, J. F. Divihm, Hupt. Trans. Geu’l Sup’t. ’ T. M. Emzrsom, Gen’I Pass. Agl. A DOCTOR’S STORY. On a fine cummer day in tho year 187-, I was proceeding by the Southwestern railway to visit a friend and former patient, a resident of Portsmouth It is not often that a medical man gets a holi day, and bat for the kindness of a fellow practitioner, in taking my practice for a fortnight, I should not have had this op portunity of enjoying tho sea breezo. The train by which I started was an early one, and, having procured my ticket, I took my place in a second class carriage and lit my cigar, for it was a smoking car riage. On entering It I was surprised, and, I think, naturally so, to find the far ther corner of it occupied by a lady. "Oho!" said I, inwardly, “some fast American demoiselle who desires to in dulge In a cigarette. ” On observation, howover, it appeared to me that the features of my fellow trav eler did not bear npon them that Impres sion of enteness which marks American nationality. She had soft, brown eyes, a full, round face and a profusion of chest nut hair. She was dressed In a plain traveling suit, bound with white braid, and wore a straw hat. "Maybe a German," I soliloquized; "they are terrible smokers.” But again It occurred to mo that possi bly the young lady might be neither , cen tly visiting In England thonght he VILIiNGTW COLUMIIA A9II AUGUST A May 12, 1889. GOING SOUTH No. 23. ! Leave Wilmioglon I Leave Marion i Arrive Florence Leave Florence Arrive Sumter Leave Sumier Arrive Columbia Leave Wilmington Leave Marion Arrive Florence Leave Sumter Arrive Columbia Leave Florence Arrive Sumter KAKKIA 1 *6 26 pm 9 38 pm 10 88 • m Ne. 60. 8.-0 n tf 4.40 n a 4 40 a m 6. 16 a m No. *7 t *16.10 D m 12.40 pm . 120am No 52 flO 88 a m U66p» No 68 f9 20 a ta 10 28 a m No 62 run* through from Charl**loa vis Central R It. ^ Leaving Lane* 9 15 A M., Manning 8 68 T rain on C & D R R connect* at Flcroae* wiih No 68. GOING NORTH. No 61 neave Columbia. Arrive Sumter Leave Sumter Arrive Florence 78. American nor German, but had got into the carriage without noticing that it was one reserved for the use of smokers. Under this impression I bowed slightly to her, saying: “I fear my cigar may annoy yon. Per haps yon are not aware that this is a smoking compartment?” “Oh, yes,” she answered, with a slight German accent; “yes, yes, yes, yes." There was something peculiar In her slow, deliberate utterance and the four times repeated monosyllable. A dreamy look, too. In the speaker’s eyes, as If her mind waa preoccupied- However, the train was now In motion, and I had noth ing for it bat to esconce myself in my corner, look out of the window and take a bird’s «ye view of the surrounding house tops. For a short time this was well enough; bat I began at last to weary of the monot ony of such an amusement. We English men, aa a rule, are so reserved and unso ciable that we shrink Into ourselves and every fresh addition to the occupants of a railway carriage or aa omnUms ia received with black looks and a sort of tacit intima tion that ha has no right to enter Now, I am feua to ccnfeaa that, whatever ap fellings, want of sodahttlty is not one «f them: and I datwinlnad to trv to snosae would try an experiment to test the ere dallty of Englishmen in regard to the United States So one day when he was with a number of fairly Intelligent Eng llshmen ho gravely told them that on various street comers of Chicago there are peculiar machines run by intricate clockwork on which is Inscribed the legend; “Drop ten silver dollars in the slot and get a divorce." Half of Us auditors believed the story, and the other half accepted It In its main features, but criticised certain details. — New York Tribune. She Went on to Say- She began in ashy, shrinking, stammer ing sort of way, and Ms heart gave a great leap year bound, for he loved the girl with that mad devotion which heiresses alone can inspire. Bat he was too poor and proud to say ao. “Er—Mr. Sampson," she said. “I trust that you will pardon me—er—that is, overlook what I—tun—If yon would con sider”— Then she stopped la shy dls- Leave Florence, Leave Marion Arrive at Wilmington, No. 69 Leave Sumter Arrive Florene* Ne. 68, •10 86 p a 11 68 p a 11 68 p ■ 1 15 a ■ 4 >6 a a 6 20am RUaa fO 87 p * 7 60pm •6 20 p u 6 82pm *8 16 p m 8 69pm II 60 i. m “Pray go r, m i on. Miss Clara,” ha said hoarsely, A tho same time hitching Us chair; “yotf were about to ssy’** “I was about to say, Mr. P otock is nearly an hour; eur dock Is ut» really getting' Leave Columbia Arrive Sumter No 14 Leave Florence Leave Marion Arriv< at Wilmington *"»ily. fDaily except Sunday. No 63 runs through to Charleston, via Central R K, arriving Manning 7 04.P A. Lane* 7 42 P N. Charleston 9 30 P M. No 59 conueets at Flore nee with CRD train for Cheraw and Wadoaboro*. No 78 and 14 make Wilmingtou with WAV/ H R for all point' . North. Train oo Floranr* R. R. leava Pen Dee flatly exeept Sunday 4.40 P. M.,* at rive ^ Rowland 7.00 P. M Returning leava Rowland 6,80 A. M.. / irive Pr* Dor 9.00 A. m. - vVr v, Train Oo Mauchesier A Angneu 1 irEtXmWiirT”; turning l« nvo Pii>ew«ud Ig 10 P M , r}»e Sumter I.8U P. M. connection nl ys KB Ir’fiAr EHi mo ;y : vi