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?ECCA'S REMORSE. ?j JAMES PAYS'. ^K^VE??>P3^gr>it( 1537, by-thc Author.! is" not unusual "with young men of l^^?anthropic or religions instincts to their work, cn taking orders, in |firo??st end of London and to turn B||i|ir .backs upon fashionable ccngrega R&Saftsand gift slippers, and yet these |H{gc-'< of fiction," as they have been ^^Rbed, the doctors, are never credited 8?jgj?& the same self sacrificing motives. ^^Hgnjedical man is ever described as i^^H&rring a poor neighborhood to a rich |?P*&:<' He goes to Bayswater if he can't jfi^ t? Belgravia and to Bloomsbury if |S^$!an.3t get to Bayswater, but farther ^Hp.than Bloomsbury he is not found ^^^Hnctien. This is not in accordance ^^HE| bis angelic character, with his pseaading in his little account receipted ^^Kis poor patient, -with his giving him l?ihe money for a seaside holiday instead ?paprescription, or with the furnishing ^?^eiory comfort for mind and body ^Hkh that marvelous diagnosis cf his Hg^discerned to be necessary at the first '^^SD?e. This is hard, as there really are f&bc?ors in the east end of London, and ^Jpaaee had a practice there myself. ||||j&..was not a good one in point of re ^Hfteration, but there were plenty of Hp?gE?ts, the sort of ''practice" that pMaies one "perfect" from a professicn ^^^onit'of view and at the same time K?lves one from the income tax. I ^oaEfess^ however, that I did not make ^Sbis choice of my own free will. "Not Space ncr zeal," but a quarrel with my prospected uncle, on whom I was entire g?&r.dependent, had been the canse of it, Rlj?iad? I admit, considerably exceeded ?my allowance at college, and my hes Ep&al carear in London had been ex ^aeaasrre, ont his conduct in buying a ^practice for me in the east instead of Hfe? west as a punishment for what he ||f??-not hesitate to term my reckless ex p?^ragance was, I think it will be ad ^^^ited, vindictive. He made me, how Hper, an allowance, which, though one ||wcald have called it moderate in a more pjashionable locality, was ample enough ^^Ksnch a neighborhood. ^ ^leasares were very cheap there and HB? very attractive. Its concerts were Ittt at the time of which I am speaking Bassical, though of late years music cf ^tmite a high class has emigrated thither, jK?IBethnal Green itself has become an fart center. Tho dances one was invited " soi {by advertisements) were of a public Hp?sxe and wera too much cf a rnari ?pne character to suit the landsman. There was no shop where yon could spend money to any extent save that ^fentoful emporium where not only Egens and tigers are as plentiful as ||eSaekens in Leadenhall market,* but ?muoh finer curios are to' be found ^-flwrn can be picked up in Piccadilly. |5jBat lions were not in my way, though gribad kepi "a tiger" at the university, ?&and I was much too young to care for r^} curios, a taste for which does? not usual rlS'?y develop till the mind has given way %? little. ?0 This enforced economy had, however, tjxine very pleasant side tc it. I generally ^??Q?nd myself with money in my pocket, ? a most unusual experience with an east & end doctor. There is nothing more dis V- tressing to him-if he is a good fellow* or even if he has a human heart in his ?>fcreasi--than the knowledge that half. the patients who come under his care fe'?re not so much in need of medicine as .... cf the necessaries of life, with which he is unable to supply them. No ene knows ri what poverty is who has net seen the .: ?'? east end during a bad time. For my ~| part it was a revelation to me, and ? when one saw how far not a shilling, hut even a penny, was made to go it gave, one a nasty jar to remember the \:: hnndr?ds ene had squandered for spend ? ing's sake. Ai; first, indeed, brought ?v face to face with such urgent want, . one's heart made one lose one's hand, : and I found myself, not from philan? thropy, but from fastidious disgust at : squalor and wretchedness, supporting viorne of the idlest and most worthless scoundrels in the parish. But after awhile one grew wiser cr less emotional and learned discretion, which is the bet : ter part of charity. It was a good school fer me in many ways, though I didn't like being sent to it. People talk of "genteel poverty" as being the worst sort cf it, but at the risk of teing thought material and com? monplace I venture to remark that ab? ject poverty-the halfpennyworth cf bread and the sack instead of a bed on the floor-is much more hard to Lear. There are degrees even in that, or rather the some wretchedness seems greater or less according to the habits of thc?? who endure it. It is possible, though by no means easy, to be clean.y under the most sordid conditions. The house, or rather the one room, may be swept, though it cannot be garnished; the broken teacup may be washed; the ragged blanket may be mended. When squalor is added to want, pity is lost in disgust, and the attempt to cling to the decencies of life is the most touching of all the attributes of the very poor. It is sot-God help them-often made. When everything else has gone by the board, it seems useless to look after the hencoop. Star court, a locality where some of my mest wretched clients dwelt, made very little effort in this direction, though as a rule they were decent peo? ple who dwelt there. We have all a tendency to live among those cf our own calling-how else, since they are far from loving one another, can the congregation of doctors in Wimpole street or of lawyers in Bedford row be accounted for?-and when we have no calling among those of our own tastes and habits we seek a qniet street New? comens, impecunious as the rest of my colony, but averse to rows and ruffian? ism, gravitated to Star court sooner or later. I used to fancy there were more j people who "had seen better days" there than elsewhere, but at all events they ; could hardly have seen worse. It was a miserable spot, but it was not necessary ^^M?M^m. to keep his eye on in some other localities. My first introduction to it was ov to Rebecca Bent, who called upon one very ?warra evening in late Aug to ask for medical advice, I had s( her before,, for she bad been charbon: for a few weeks at the little honse I cupied when one of my two dornest was away. I remembered her becai she had worked so hard ("like a horse my cook had said) daring that tem] rary engagement and given much gre er satisfaction than charwomen usua da Otherwise there was nothing abc her to enlist the memory. She was i young-live and forty, cue would sr at least-and she had not even t remains of good looks. A tall, t boned, masculine woman, her only cia: on the sentimental emotions that lc of hopeless discontent worn by so ma. of her class and age, she was certain not anattractive person. She was stroi enough, however, and to all appearan healthy and the last person I sbou have expected to need my profession services. Still, strange as it may see in the case of those who have so mai genuine troubles, it is not more unusu for the very poor to imagine themselv ill when there is little the matter wi them than for a fine lady. If they c their finger, they think they are like die. And the woman had rung the sn gery bell, which-though scarcely : the city sense-meant business. "Well, Rebecca, nothing gone wronj I hope, ' -1 said cheerfully. ' * You lex all right.n "Appearances are deceitful, sir, heaj en knows," she answered, with wh; seemed for so trite a proverb a mo unnecessary significance. "It's weal ness BO that one cannot lift one's han to one's head and thirst so that or wants a bucketful and a cough th; seems to tear one inside out, and beside that there's fever." "So bad as that, is it?" I made the usual examination. He pulse was all right, her tongue quite pleasure to look at as compared wit most of those organs submitted to m inspection (especially that most con: mon variety,, the drunken tongue). Sh bad not coughed at all throughout th ordeal and there was not a trace of f evei "You're nervous about yourself, rn; good woman," I said, "which in you case surprises me. You're too hard worker to have such fancies." "Still, them are the symptoms," sh answered doggedly, "and I want a pre scripticn." And she held out her hand with 18 pence in it. Such is not the fe in Wimpole street, but in the east en? we are less exacting, and we have th' same excuse for taking less as the bar rister gave for taking half a crown in stead of a guinea-it is often all ou clients have in the world. "I don't want your money. Rebecca any more than you want my prescrip tion," I said. "For mercy's sake give it me!" sh< cried imploringly. "It'snot forme, sir it's for my sister. " "For your sister? I did not know yoi had a sister. How is it possible for m< to prescribe for a patient I have neve: seen?" "She is ill, sir, deadly ill," she pleaded. "The more reason I should see her. ' <cBut she will not see you, sir. She made me promise that I would not bring you. She has seen no one but me foi years. She's an invalid." "Weil, of course, and has an invalid's fancies no doubt Come, take me tc her. " And I took up my hat Them to my amazement, the big, strong woman burst into tears. "Oh, sir, you don't understand!" she sobbed. "She is not accustomed to be seen like this. You will break her heart " "Pooh, pooh!" I said. "On tho con? trary, it is my business to mend it." Not that I had the least belief in what she said, for, indeed, I began to think that her sister might be a lusus natura?, of which I had s^en more than one in my east end practice-poor crea? tures that were not good enough or bad enough for a show; two headed night? ingales who had just missed their chance, as it were, by half a head; ele? phant men with imperfectly developed trunk. When poverty goes hand in hand with disfigurement, it cannot close door and windows or hide in secluded "grounds, '. but still it will shrink from observation all it can, like some shy creature cn the seashore whose shell is too small for it Seeing it was useless to argue with me, Rebecca led the way to Star court. Dry, dusty, airless and without sun? shine, because the tall black houses are huddled too close together, it was in? deed a cheerless spot for the sound, far more for the sick, to dwell in. A few ragged children were dancing in the center of it round a barrel organ, to the superficial eye an example of how hap? piness is found in every spot, but well I knew that in more than one of these abodes lay women and children down with fever, to each of whom eveiy note of the instrument was torture, but there was no liveried footman there to warn the unwelcome musician or policemen to bid him "Move on." The police in that neighborhood had their hands full of more serious matters. (Jp three flights of stairs we went, steep enough to suggest tne aid^JC "Che ?ams'c?rs had they been less grimy and slimy, and then into an attic with a sloping roof. At tho first glance I thought a sun? beam had found its way tigere, but it was only a head of golden hair upon a coarse pillow. The face was turned to the wall, and Rebecca held her finger up, stained with toil and rough with I work, to warn me that the invalid was sleeping. Why I noted the finger was because of the contrast it exhibited to the thin, white, delicate hand that lay outside the blanket, for counterpane there was none. There was a marriage ring on the hand, and it was the only article in the room which could have fetched a shilling at the pawnbroker's. There was a chair, but it had DO back, and a deal table, one leg of which, much shorter than the others, was sup? plemented by a brick. Upon it stood a mug with wall flowers on it, the only decoration the apartment could boast. Yet all was scrupulously clean, down ^jj^^^-^^^^^nm^^^yayajlged j or carper, JL nau seen nunnzcc;? GI ?CSW 1 before shorn of every comfort, but never j j one so cared for in its last extremity by j hand and eye. Even the brick cn which ! the table stood was -washed and resera- ! bled one from a child's toy box. "That is a geed sign, her sleeping, is it not, sir?" whispered Rebecca eager- ! ly. We had entered very softly, and i j doubtless the ear cf the invalid bud I only caught the footstep she expected, j but when her sister sjjoke she answered | in faint, reproachful tones: "I am not asleep, and you have broken j your word, Rebecca." "It was not my fault, my darling; ! ! indeed it wasn't. Oh, did I not tell you, ? doctor, how ic would be?" And tho j great, gaunt woman wrung her hands ? j distressfully. "It was not your sister's fault that I 1 am here," I interposed gently. "She would have had me believe that she came to consult me on her own account, but I saw through her. It was my duty to come, and it will be a pleasure to me if I can do you any good. " I had caught sight for a moment of the face of an angel, or rather, as it seemed to me, of one that was about to join the heavenly choir, but even while I was speaking she had put up both her hands before it. It was a poor protec? tion, for they were so thin and fragile that one could almost see through them, but the gesture was eloquent enough. "You need not be afraid of the dec tor, my dear. He is not like any one else," said Rebecca soothingly, a com? pliment evidently address?d to my pro? fession and not to myself. "She'll come round after a bit, sir," she whispered encouragingly, "but she has not seen a stranger-not to speak to-for years, and your coming is a terrible trial to her." I nodded indifferently, as though such shyness was a common trait, for it is a point of honor with us doctors never to be surprised, but to say, "Just so, " and incline the head at the angle of assent when a case is introduced to us, whether it be mumps or the leprosy. Moreover, I could have waited patiently for some time to get a glimpse of that face again. It was the face of a girl rather than cf a young woman, though, paradoxical as this may seem, there was little of youth in it The continuance cf some distress? ing emotion or possibly of physical pain had, as it will do, driven youth away from it, and instead of "the vermeil hue of health" had given it an unnat? ural flush, as when autumn lays, its fiery finger cn the leaf in springtime, but the features were perfect and the large blue eyes the mont beautiful I had ever beheld. They had only expressed shrinking and affright at my presence, but it was easier to imagine them as the natural homes of love and tender? ness. Around this picture, the beauty of which had something unearthly about it, or rather, as it stru ck my profession? al eye, was only to be for a short time on earth, that gleaming hair made a colden frame. A greater contrast to her sister it was not possible for ono woman to be to an? other. Presently she seemed to recover herself a little, and I ventured to put to her a few questions founded upon what Rebecca had told me. She an- i swered them very gently, but in so in- j different a tone that they might well, j as in her case, have had no personal j application. This was a bad sign, for ! her disease was consumption, where if j "Sh? docs not undcnUmd," slic whispered j ! piteously. the patient is not as usual sanguine or j has little interest in the result the out- j look is gloomy indeed. After recom- j mending certain things which I simply ? said should bo sent in I took my leave, j Rebecca followed me out of the room, j "She does net understand," she | whispered piteously. ''You must nor ; think her ungrateful, sir. Hermina"- j She hesitated. "Is fixed cn ether things than food ; and physic," I said, smiling. "It is a i common case with one so ill as she is." f "She is not dying, doctor?" The woman's swarthy face grew pale | and her eyes distended with sheer ter- j ror. I had seen relatives anxious about j the fate of their dear ones upon grounds i the mest momentous-spiritual consid- j erations-but never ene so moved as j this one, and yet she did not strike me j as being a religious woman. As a rule, j the very poor take these matters with j philosophy, as well as they may. If ? there is another world, which they do ; not always believe, to which their in- ; talid is going, it naturally strikes them ; j that it needs must be an improvement on the one he is leaving, and, at all i I events, there will be one less to feed and clothe. But in the case of Rebecca j her emotion was infinitely deeper than mere anxiety or regret. It seemed to j shake the very roots nf her being. "I do not say your sister is dy in;:, lay good woman," I replied. "My ex animation of her, ns you know, has been very slight, but I confess that her condition impresses me unfavorably, j She seems to be in very low spirits j about herself." "Heaven help her, well she may ba!" groaned Rebecca. "And yet she docs not seem alarmed, as some do." of? It is others, me,'vvlio nave bc afraid. She han done no wrong, there is a heaven above, she must n< go there." "Well, that, after al!, is thc g thing and should give you comfort, you will meet again." I was a young man at the time, v such platitudes at the tip ci: my rom: That they are well meant is th.? i that can be said of them. When a ci is going to school fer the firs! time, say, "The months will soon pas when a friend is emigrating for health, "In a few years we shall you again strong and well," and .sir under these circumstance.?, this "vac chaff well meant fer grain*' is fon nc be inefficacious, how can it oe etherv when the separation is complete, bourne whither oar dear one is bot one from which there is nc return ? our meeting with him without date < doubtful? A clergyman may say th things. From his mouth they may h: their effect, but thongh "never" ii hard word we have most of us to b it. From the doctor, at all events glance of the eye and a touch of hand in token of human sympathy a it is my experience, more welcome the mother that is about tc be childle to the wife that is about to be a wide than this vague consolation. "Comfort and 'meet again,'" s echoed, with a sort of contemptnc despair, and, shaking her head, like c with the palsy, re-entered the sickroo The whole situation amazed and p plexed me. On ali other topics the v man was what one would have expect her to be. Save for a somewhat exe? tional honesty, cleanliness and diliger Rebecca Bent was like othe;: charwome but in all that pertained to her sisi she was tender and emotional to an e traordinary degree. I made inquir: about them w^tnout eliciting much i formation. They had lived in Star cet for nearly three years, but Rebec alone was known to their fallow lodge: Her sister had been always a recluse not an invalid. She had never left h room. It was understood that she to in needlework when she could obta employment, which was not often, b Rebecca wa3 the breadwinner. &. toiled early and late, but no one h: heard a word of complaint from he As a general rule, it is not the ha: workers who complain, lt is net th they are resigned to their harsn fat whatever cant may have tc say about it it is not in human nature to bo that but there is often a certain grim ret cence about them, a not un justifia b resentment. This was not thc case wi1 Rebecca, however. She had her reason as I afterward discovered, of likir work for its own s?ke. W?rk preservi us ir?m thinking. She' was qui?t in hi ways and kept herself to herself, bi she had a temper of her cwn. A neighbor once condoled with In on having a sick sister to keep. "SI didn't seem to help much. Couldn't si put her own shoulders to the wheel little more? There didn't seem so vei much the matter with her," and so 01 Then Rebecca broke out and exhibite quite an unexpected command of lai guage. She impressed upon that neigl ber the desirability of minding her ow business in such convincing terms th: nobody ever ventured to sympathis with her upon the labor question agaii But she had noe been popular before and this ebullition set society again: her. She was for thc future very sc verely let alene. Gau^t and grim though she was nov; for my parr, strange to say, Rebecca in tercsted me at least as much as my pi tient, notwithstanding her manyadvan tages. Her beauty was of the kind tha is heightened rather than otherwise b; delicacy Of constitution; even diseos only rendered it mere exquisite. It rc minded me of the lily -?f the vale "whom youth makes . ?ir and pas sion so frail that the lig^s of its tren: ulous bells is seen through their pavil ions of tender green," so tranpsarsn was its splendor. That *be was dying . had now no denhi., nor could the eut be far distant. The spectacle was ver^ touching, even to a professional eye, bu what, I confess, lessened my sympathy fer her was her conduc?; toward Rebec ca. She seemed to take everything sh< did for her as a matter of course. Ii was quite true that she gave one the impression of belonging to quite anoth' er and a higher sphere cf being, but tc see her so self conscious of it was de plorable. If she had been a prince??, she could hardly have bsen served nd enly with mere devoiicn, but with more respectful reverence. I noticed in particular that, though Rebecca lavished every term of endearment upon her sis? ter, she never addressed her by bei Christian name, and I only discovered it to be Lucy by direct inquiry. With the selfish egotism of the ha? bitual invalid every doctor is familiar, but with Lucy Bent it was carried be? yond all bounds. I had supplied her with various little luxuries and made arrangements by which during her ill? ness her sister should not be under the necessity cf leaving her, and for this she expressed herself, though I have reason to believe only at Rebecca's prompting, in a few .sufficiently suit? able words. If she had not uttered them, I should have thought little of it. There was not much graciousness in Star court, though in this case, where the casket was so fai), one naturally looked for the jewel, bat the ignoring of her sister's claim vo gratitudo anti the coldness-as it seemed to me the studied coldness-of hermanner toward her were painful to witness. She never exchanged a word with her that was net asbolutely necessary. Her slate was such that it was impossible to r min?? strate with her upon that or any other subject. Indeed-and so f::r this was an excuse- for her-she was so rapt in ber own wretchedn: ss. so given ever ti; I knew net v. i?::r ( i' r gretful de? spairing mein* rit - tl.-.r she seemed to pay no ?tteuticu even to her own con? dition, to thc "body that did her such grievous wrong" or io nw soul that was about to quit it Rebecca, on her side, was equally si? lent, dumb as the dog who, treated with indifference by some morose mas I ter, still waits on and watches him :Z- ses? now s:;o ?cngec rcr i\ sin?: or even ?1 loving glance and longed ia I vain. At last, when th? curl veas very j near. I could iorbaarno longer. Ii veas ?a clergyman's business perhaps more ! than mine, uzi my patient hau ?ecli-K .;. ! and with no little vehemence for one j po weak, to ree a clergyman, and I I took my courage, for, strange as it j may seem, it needed courage, in both handfe and spoke to her. "Have you not one word, even cf farewell, Lucy, for the sister who has nursed yon .so tenderly?" There was a struggle within the pant ; ing bosom, added to the fight for breath, but the lips moved, and what they formed was the monosyllable "INO. " In the faint sound I recognized a distinct touch of bitterness. "I know not what you have suffered, " I went cn, "and it may be (this struck me for the first time) even aS her hands, but I know what she has suffered and is suffeirng now for your sake. Forgive her if she has done you wrong as you yourself hope to be forgiven. Look at her, it may be for the last time, and bid her kiss you." Into the dying eyes, as she turned them on her sister, there came a look of ineffable sweetness, and she feebly stretched her arms toward her in invi? tation of an embrace. Rebecca fell on her knees beside the wretched bed with a cry in which for the moment sorrow seemed to have been swallowed up in joy. To have been the witness of what followed would have been a sacrilege, and I left them to? gether. It may have been their first and last caress, for when I entered the room the next morning it had but one living ten? ant The dead girl lay on the bed, with her hands crossed, "as if praying dumb? ly," over her breast. The words of the poet occurred to me as I looked at her, but it was that line alone which bad any application to her case. That she had not fallen, whatever sin she had committed, though she looked an angel, as Hood's unfortunate had done, I felt certain. Her story was no common one of the streets and the river. Everything that loving hands could do had been done for ber to the vsrv last service Rebecca was wonderfully calm and resigned, and after a few words of sym? pathy which perhaps had better not Slic feebly stretched her arms tovsard lier. have been said, for I could seo they tried her firmness, I spoke cf what was necessary. Of course I took upon my? self all the arrangements of the funer? al, but I had to ask hera question about the death certificate. ' 'I do net know year sister's married name,"'! said. "She was never married," was the unexpected reply. My eye wandered interrogatively to the wedding ring upon that delicate finger, on which the needle had left no trace. I: had, indeed, clone little work of any kind. Bat .Rebecca only shook her head. "Then I will give your sister's maid? en name, Bent." "She was not my sister, sir. She -was no relative at ali. Put clown Lester. " "No relative? Then, indeed, Rebec? ca, you may say you have done your du? ty to your neighbor." "My duty!" she answered with bitter scorn and throwing up her great, gaunt hands. "It was I who murdered her." It was not till some days afterward, when Lucy had been laid to rest in the cemetery, that I heard from Rebecca ! what she believed to be the story of her crime. It was exaggerated, emotional, aud I am very sure represented the case only as it appeared to a mind'full of remorse and self reproach. I prefer, fer truth's sake as weil as j hers, to give the facts as they would I have struck an unprejudiced observer. Lucy Lester was the daughter cf a ? tradesman well to do and who made his money honestly enough, but he was a Puritan and cf tho strictest sect of the Pharisees. His wife ha J died when Lucy was still a child, and she was brought up in an atmosphere of gloom and dullness very unsuited to her char? acter, which was at once frivolous and egotistic. Ker beauty, of which she was only too conscious, was pronounced by the formal society with whom she mixed to be a snare (as, indeed, it proved to be), and every amusement to which she naturally inclined was sternly forbidden her. Rebecca, who had been her nurse and when she grew up became her maid, sympathized with her young mistress, to whom she was aiso genuinely at? tached, and made common caust< with her against her persecutors, as she called them though they included her parent himself. He was very thrifty and kept Lucy "short" as to pin money, and Re? becca who, ss she told me (for she The girl was lying; white and silent as before, with a cteatblike, peaceful smile wreathing her parted lips. Harry stole to tho coach and looked into thc girl's eyes. A merest gleam ot* a heartbreaking recognition flicki red there, like a stray and feeble sunbeam, and vanished. The young man dropped on one knee by t!::' sitie of Iris dying bride and, grasping her cold and humid hand, covered ir with his kisses. "Oh, my God," he cried in the ter? ror of his heart, "grant that it may not be too late-grant that it may not bc too late!" He took the knife he had brought, and with one swift and desu?rate move I ^nrs cub a'gr??t gash in bis ici t arm. j The steaming blood spurted over his j face and chest, but he dashed the horn I cup to ihe wound with a lightninglike : swing, and the hot nuid gushed into it. j He felt his face grow red and white by i turns, and a strong tremor filled his j frame, but he kept a tight held of the i horn until he knew that his blood was j trickling into it more and mere slowly. I Then he satisfied himself that the cup j was nearly full to the brim, though his j head swam and the walls and thc couch and the girl upon it appeared to him to turn round in a hazy whirl. He crept to the couch side with the love of a life beaming in his dark eyes. Gen? tly, tenderly, as a woman might have done, he inserted his right arm beneath the girl's shoulders, and, raising her drooping head witk a solicitous care, he held with his left the cup to her lips, though he felt the blood still flowing from his arm in a warm stream. The half open lips admitted a few drops; then the head sank back as a gasping thrill pervaded the slender frame. Harry soft? ly pressed the cup again to his love's lips, and a fey more drops passed. Then he waited a dozen seconds, while his sight grew dimmer and his temples throbbed as in fever. Again he placed the cup to the white lips, and he was happy to see a few more drops of his life's blood rushing to save her whom he loved so well. . Time after time during the next hour he repeated his work of mercy until at last the glassy eyes brightened with the signs of reviving life and a dim smile beamed there. The cold figure seemed to warm into pulsating vigor, the bosom heaved in more visible evenness, and at last a sigh, long drawn, escaped from it Then Harry on a sudden felt all around him grow dark. His wounded arm burned as in a raging fever, and he swayed as he knelt by his Nellie's couch. "I've done what I could, " he mut? tered. . * * Goodby, J&ellie. Goodby, .clar? ina. Goodby, goodby!" ' He stretched out a wildly fumbling hand and fell face foremost on the floor. c ***** * The sun cf a bright winter morning glowed, an orb of red fire, cn a horizon of silver, which graduated westward into a pale, steely blue. Around tho hut where Painther Harry lay horses neighed and pawed the snowy ground, while the air was astir with cheery human voices. ? A score of Uncle Sam's dragoons, un-' recognizable as soldiers under the odd? est and most varied assortment of fur clothing, tramped up and down by the tethered horses, swinging their arms and stamping their feet to keep their limbs warm in the keen and bitingly brisk atmosphere. Within three or four men, two of them in the uniform of ofiScers of the United States cavalry, were busy at? tending to the needs of poor Nellie, who sat, pale and shamefaced, on her couch, looking with frightened gazell? eyes at her lover, whose wounds one cf the men was dressing. "A fine fellow that, doctor!" ex? claimed a bcistercus lieutenant of dra- . goons. "I wonder how he came by that gash in the arm. The place is swim? ming in blood. Is he all right?" j "Right as rain," the surgeon replied. j "He hasn't poisoned his constitution ! with whisky of late. He'll be up and ? doing in a day cr two. ' ' j "And the old man?" asked the cificer. i "There's life in the cid dog fer many I a day to come yrt. D?t cou't you go ? "?i ! . IL M m l m?--. \ --? . &?? i A) I 5 4-' ?^ ori ll Ul ! Raising her drooping heed with solicitous care. and feed him with rancid perk and mo? lasses. A stomach that's been starving ! for a week cr two can't stand that" ******* ! The story of Painther Harry's cordial is told to this cay by many a pioneer's fireside cut west. The gold which Harry discovered at such an awful cost did not rufrie the I even tenor of his and Nellie's homely ? lives. Tili: KSD. I Thoughts of a Bachelor. Without life death wouldn't be worth dying. Some men have corns on their souls, and their bodies hurt them. A girl is never really in love till she I feels herself blush when she says her ! prayers. Widows get along best with men be ! cause they know enough not to aggra j vate them too far. Socrates always claimed he married j Xantippe for discipline, but probably i she knew how to cry at the right time. ; -New York Press. Quality is first coo?ideration of th? 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