Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 April 1892 — A Pair of Jacks. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Pair of Jacks.

BY LVIV JAMISON.

chapter XII. “Mr. Beverly’s down stairs, and he’ ■wants to see you. Mercy, look what you have done.” “No; your fault, Jeannette. You spoke so suddenly.” “Well, who thought you was going to jump up in that style. You might have killed the kitten, besides putting a grease spot on the carpet, and breaking the saucer." Yes, I know; but I didn’t, you see. Which one is it?” “It belongs to the best set, and there ain’t but four- —’’ “Oh, I don’t mean the saucer.* I’m talking about the man. Is it ” “It’s Mr. Beverly. The Mr. Beverly, if that’s what you mean. Don’t fly up again now, and I hope you’ll soon be going down too, or he’ll wear out the carpet with his walking. He don’t seem able to keep still.” “Angry,” thought Mary, dashing some cold water on her cheeks. “I wonder if I had not better change this dress. I have made it so wet.” This change or costume was a longer process than she had bargained for. So many wrong hooks got into so many wrong eyes, that both time and patience were required to set them right, and after the task was finally accomplished her face was so red and so hot as to necessitate another application of cold water. “I hope he is angry,” she said under her breath, as she reached the lower hall and heard the rapid walking that Jeannette had rather deprecated. “If he is angry he may say something which I can answer back, and then I may get rid of this dishrag sort of feeling. ” “Good morning,” she added aloud, though in a slightly unsteady voice, as she eame to a sharp standstill in the doorway. “Have you seen grandpa?” “Yes. But I didnoLcome to see him. I came to see you. Will, you dome in, please, and sit down?” invited, Mary took possession of a chair near the door, and Jack retained his standing position in the center of the room.

“I received your grandfather’s letter,” he continued after a second, during which her face had turned various colors qnder his glance, “and your message—acknowledgment, rather. Have you nothing to add to it, Mary?” The tone, more than the words, gave Mary such a spasm of contrition that she cried quite vehemently. “I do want you to forgive me, if you only can.” The next second Jack had lifted her burning face to the light. “I believe I can,” he returned in a tender voice, “though you have been so -cruelly upon me. How could you think me such a villain, Mary?” “Don’t lookatme»in that way!” she ■exclaimed, trying to cover her face from his sight. “I can never, never be sorry enough. I know I’ve been hateful, and jealous, and sus ” “No more adjectives, please. I will ■simply add, for my own gratification, that you have been a very proud girl, who wou'.d not give poor Jack a chance to vindicate himself. That comes with .good grace from me, but you must not -call yourself names. I cannot allow it. You are too precious to me."

Here J ack found bis face so near hers that he thought it expedient to give :some extra proof of his assertion. “If you care to be precious to me,” ho added, after this slight interruption. “I think you are a very generous man,” was Mary’s only answer. “Am I? I don’t know that I deserve very great credit. My generosity is wholly selfish. But, such as it is, I’m waiting for you to reward it. I feel that I have been in the lowest depths for the last two or three days, and am only beginning to enter heaven. Repeat the promise you made before, Mary. Darling, ■say you will be my wife.” He clasped his arms about her waist, .and drew her toward him with passionate intensity. “Oh, Jack,’’.she cried, with considerable protest, “you have such a—way.” “I can’t help it,” he returned. "I must show you how dearly I love you. You have not answered my question, either. Will you ” “You know I will,” was her highly convincing reply, as her face dropped out ■of sight on his shoulder. “It is all I wish,” he responded, happily content. “What a happy man you have made me. And yet,” he added, with much reproach, “you would have allowed me to mope in misery, rather than eay, ‘ Jack, I want you.’ What a proud, cruel girl. I have had to make all the advances.” “And I am very glad you have,” replied Mary, frankly. “You could doit, and I couldn’t. How did I know you cared any longer? I thought you might not; and suppose I had said, ‘Jack, I want you,’ and you didn’t want me.” Mary sighed over the bare suggestion of this prospect. “Impossible possibility,” rejoined Jack, “if the remark be not*paradoxical. I think I must punish you for even entertaining it. Though I don’t half believe you did. You really could not in conscience, you know.” “I won’t think .so any more,” she promised by way of reparation. “I intend to improve very much. You don’t know how good I am going to be. ” “Don’t I,” he whispered very lovingly. “‘My own darling, I don’t care to know. I am satisfied with you as you are. The "thorns only make my rose more sweet. ” “May I come in?” asked a quiet voice at the door. "Certainly,” responed Jack wholly unabashed. “You find us in quite a botanical vein. ” “You don’t believe him, do you?” cried Mary, leaving Jack rather precipitately, and placing her hand half shyly in her grandfather’s. “You can guess a gredt many things, can’t you? I suppose you knew he was here.” “Yes, my dearest,” was the old gentleman’s reply, as he placed his arm around her and looked with kindly eyes upon her happy, shining face. “I saw him first. But I will say that he only gave me time to assure him that, though he is not the son of my old friend, he has nevertheless won a place in my heart which no one can take from him,” “A most encouraging assurance,” put in Jack. “It leads me to "hope that you may the more readily receive me as a grandson. I have decidedly set my heart on that relationship, and Mary can not make up her mind to do without me. ” “I always said he had assurance,” whispered Mary, rubbing her cheek against her grandfather’s sleeve. The old. gentleman smiled upon her with inexpressible affection. Then, giving his hand to Jack, he said very earnestly: "Mary’s face tells its own story. You

are a most fortunate young man. She is worth her weight in gold. ” “A jewel without price,” added Jack, emphatically. “If you will excuse me, grandpa, I think I had better be going. It is rather embarrassing. ” “No, no, Mary. Stay, my dear. We have reached the climax, I am sure. This is the old story repeated. We old men guard and love our children for years, only to have them leave us at last for the first likely young man who comes along. ” “Oh, grandpa!” cried Mary, throwing her arms about his neck, “how can you make such a remark? Before him, too! You know there isn’t any young man I would leave you for. I hope he understands that.” “He does,” assured Jack, with undisturbed gravity, “though he would prefer a more complimentary designation of himself. ” CHAPTER XIH. “I had a letter from my namesake this morning.” “Did you?” asked Mary. “What did he have to say for himself ? ” “Oh, ever so much. He is groaning over the prospect of an early return to New York, which reminds me thai I must be jogging, too. He also suggests the propriety of a double wedding at an early date, and advises that the two Jacks decide upon some plan of action, to prevent all mistakes on the part of the world in general, or of their respective wives in particular. ” “I heartily Indorse the proposition and agree with him that in this age of protection there should bo protection for Jacks, as well as for other industries, articles, or individuals.” “Didn't you send that man Are, Jack?” “What man?” “That Mr. Beverly.” “No, ma’am. He came of his own free will. ” “But you knew he was coming, and you suspected I had heard something, and you rather hoped his explanation would make things straight. ’’ “ To each and every one of those questions I answer yes. ” “Well, and what did you expect I would do?” Jack laughed heartily at the question so earnestly put. “Really,” he responded, stroking his mustache, “I wouldn’t risk expecting with such an extraordinary young lady, but I am satisfied with what you did do.” “I did nothing. Please remember that. You did everything. ” “All right; I’ll bear the responsibility. Now, I want to do something else. I have something I got in New York the other day. I took the chance of its fitting. It will be a tangible proof that I am about to take a life interest in you. Hold out your hand, sweetheart.” As he spoke he drew a ring from his pocket and held it between his forefinger and thumb. “Now, before we put it on,” he said, “I wish it to be understood that I am not engaged to any more beautiful or more brilliant young lady, and further ’’ “Jack, if you insist upon recalling things I shall grow angry, and then you will not be engaged even to me." “Even to you! Why make yourself so insignificant. I foresee we must hasten the wedding, or that lamentable prospect may come to pass. “However, we’ll keep to the matter in hand, being this ring, and my little observation made with the sole view of satisfying your very active mind. That point being attained, we’ll proceed with the ceremony.” Taking the hand, which she half reluctantly held towards him, he kissed the ring and slipped it upon her finger. “This for the present, my darling," he added, with tender earnestness. “In a little while I shall place the seal of our union there.” Then, folding her in his arms, he continued, very lovingly: “Oh, Mary, can you guess how dear you are to me?” “I think I can,” she answered, resting her face upon his shoulder, “because I know how dear you are to me. Is that a thought I shouldn’t express?" “No, indeed. That is a thought you should express,” returned happy Jack, kissing her fondly. “It completes my happiness, for it assures me that nothing stands between us. That you are all mine “Until the sun grows cold And the stars are old And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold. ” [the EnA |

The case of Dr. Palmer, recently sentenced to the penitentiary from Racine, Wis., for petty burglaries, is a safrone. In the prime of life, of tine family, highly educated, well up in his profession and honored ih politics, he blasted his life in a manner that he, of all men, should have avoided. He was an opium fiend, and under the Influence of that drug lost all sense of moral responsibility. Inquiry develops the fact that the number of physicians who yield to the seduction of some demoralizing drug is incredibly large. Whether this is the result of familiarity with the pernicious narcotics through dispens-’ ing them to patients, or comes from taking them at flist on account of overwork and exhaustion, does not affect the tact. Invalids to whom has been administered opium, morphine, cocaine or valerian, as required by their maladies, have some excuse for yielding to undue indulgence, but it does seem that physicians, who know the nature of these drugs, would avoid the terrible consequences of becoming slaves to, them. Every little while there appears in the press the story of some brilliant physician who has gone from eminence to the asylum or the gutter because a victim to some enticing drug. What tragedies may have resulted while doctors have been practically under such baneful influence can never be known, for they bury their mistakes. But one who will so far lose his self-con-trol as to break into a corner grocery store to steal a few pennies, for which he had no earthly need, as did Dr. Palmer, is scarcely such a physician as one would want when hovering between life and death. Some conservative practitioners have raised the question as to whether opium, morphine, and the quicker poisons, arsenic and strychnine, are not administered too frequently and without proper regard to possible consequences. Certain it is that the number of those who have an inordinate craving for stimulating or soothing drugs is on the increase, as are those who suffer shattered nerves, unbalanced minds, or death, in consequence. The first teat of love is its willingness to suffer without complaint.