Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1892 — Page 3

TRVE AS STEEL

MRS ALVAIL ELORDAM CIARTH.

CHAPTER X. DEAD CR ALIVE? Ghostly fell the snow! ’ Like a curtain, a Shroud, it had closed about the devoted form or' Edna Deane that wild, tempestuous night, when the cocr child oi destiny had sunk exhausted and despairing at the very threshold of safety. The siren-hearted Beatrico Mercer had sped 10 sunsh.ne, luxury and gold, with no thought of the real fate of the girl whose name she had assumed, whose loyal lover she had determined to win. More merciful than she, the soft snow had drifted gently over the inanimate wanderer, striving to shut out from the rigor of storm and tempest the frail form that had succumbed to the chill of winter like a tender lily. Upon that same eventful night another figure braved the storm, and,.breasting its fierceness, took his way along the same road, down which Edna Deane’s dumb guide had so nearly led her to shelter.

“A night to get housed. I pity the homeless or belated!”.breathed hearty, puffing John Blake, as he struggled through the deep drifts. “Ah! nearly home. There’s the dear old wife waiting to welcome me with a warm supper, I’ll warrant.” Banner John neared the unpretentious cottage that rese’mbled a Laplander’s hut, with its eaves hung deep with snow festoons. A doleful neigh from the wagon-shed aroused his humane heart, however, to turn from his path. He found there the exhausted animal that had led Edna hither, bestowed the wandering brute in its stall, and started again for the house. “Ho, there, my dear!” sang out' the bluff, great-hearted old fellow, as he made up a huge snowball and sent it six feet away dashing against the door of the cottage. It opened. An eager, motherly face showed in the lamplight. “Dear, dear! Is it you, John? I’ve been so worried. Always a boy, throwing snowballs and singing out like a pirate. Will you never mendr” “Never while this jolly snow reminds me of our schoolday sleighrides, and your pretty, blooming face, you dear old girl!” retorted happy John. “Come, throw me a broom to beat a path, so I won’t be dragging the snow all over that rag carpet you think more of than you do of me. ” “Did you ever!” “Been lonesome?” sang out John, industriously sweeping a path lo the door. “Terrible! Did you justcome, John?” “Did I just come? .You wager I haven’t been promenading around for fun, with snow chuck two feet down my neck, and that nice warm supper on the table!” “Because I thought 1 heard some one cry out a bit ago. ’’ “Pigeons, maybe.” “No. It was a human cry for help. ” “Pshaw! Fancies. The wind toots like an engine-whistle to-night—law3y me!" Farmer John uttered a sharp cry, stumbled, recoiled. The broom fell from his hand, and there he stood staring blankly down at the ground at his feet. “What now, John?” ejaculated his wife, peering, too. “Something in th path. Bag of oats —a sheep—no! Jane, look!” He had leaned over to examine the object at his feet. His great, soulful eyes glowed like two stars. Into view he had dragged a human hand, limp and nerveless. A soggy dress-sleeve followed and then a terrible cry raug from his wife’s lips. Out into the snow she dashed. Down beside the inanimate form, disenshrouded from its snowy mound, she knelt. “John! John!” she wailed, peering into the white, cold face of the insensible Edna Deane —“it’s a woman—a young girl. Oh, John! look at the bonny face,” and the quick tears rained down m wild, motherly pity., “Oh, John! dead or alive —which?”

CHAPTER XI. PLOTTERS IN' COUNCIL. The false Alice Ralston, the real Beatrice Mercer, went straight to Hopedale after leaving the home where she had found a father and a fortune. She took no risks In her movements. Ralston did not know of her destination, had not known that she was at the Hopedale Institution through the years Rodney, the man who had died at the bridge, his friend, his advisor, had the sole charge of placing the real Edna at the seminary, for, as Beatrice knew, when father and daughter had parted years before the former was a fugitive from justice. She had told the anxipus Ralston that she would return speedily. She had secured a large sum of money. She made sure that no one followed her to the train. To break any possible trail she changed cars at a large city midway to Hopedale and made several myterious purchases at a costumer’s and at a hair dresser’s shop. When the next morning Beatrice Mercer alighted from a sleeper on the train at the nearest railroad town to Hopedale, and took a carriage to her home, her best friend would not have recognized her. For she was completely disguised. She had come to aot a part, and she had come fully prepared. In dress and face she had effected a marvelous change, and when she reached the Hopedale hotel and ordered a suit of rooms, no one formerly familiar with the trim, neat figure and rather attractive face of the half-pay school teacher of Hopedale Seminary, about the village, would for a moment have suspected the true identity of this new Beatrice Mercer. . She had come hither with an object, a definite object. She had come to seek a trace of Ihe man 6he had loved, Raymond Marshall. She had resolved to win his love. Ruthlessly she had striven to destroy his faith in Edna Deane, as ruthlessly she had covered the trail of the young girl, when she disappeared, she had robbed her trusting friend of name, father and fortune, and now she would steal her loyal, broken-hearted lover from her. This was her plot, and her spirit never quailed at the upbraidings of an outraged, hardened conscience. “He shall be mine! Wealth is nothing without him,” she had told herself, and forthwith she set herself at work to consummate her designs. She had money—that could buy Information, cooperation. She had an ally In reserve, and after remaining in her room to raat

untsmioon, she dispatched a messenger for ©*■. Raphael Simms. This man was\ a physican who resided near the village. He was a hard, coarse-featured man of about 40, and her only living relative in the world. He had a very small practice, for people generally disliked him. but he combined with his profession a mortgage loaning office, and cared very little ior anything except money. A halt cousin of Beatrice’s father, these two had rarely met tne another, but Beatrice knew the man full/, and comprehended that she could rely on his secrecy anri co-operation where there was moneyed reward assured him for his services. At about 2 o’clock in the afternoon Doctor Raphael Simms was ushered into the parlor of the suite of rooms at the hotel occupied by Boatrice. He evidently supposed he’had been sent for by a pat.ent. for bowing awkwardly to her, he looked somewhat puzzled, as he said: “You are the lady who sent for me?” “Yes. Doctor,” responded Beatrice. “You are ill—some friend ” “No. I want your personal services, not your professional advice. You do not knovr me? Look!” Her visitor started violently as Beatrice removed the false front of hair and her glasses for the first time, revealing her true identity. “Beatrice Mercer!” he ejaculated in genuine surprise. “Your cousin. Yes. I need aid. I do not know a person in the village I can trust but you. First, I desire complete secrecy. Next, certain information you can glean for me. Perhaps a week’s attention off and on will do. For all this I will pay you $501). ” “ You —will—pay —me! ” gasped the potrified doctor, wondering if the friendless girl he had known as a dependent at the seminary had taken leave of her senses. “Five hundred dollars. Are not my words plain enough?” “Where would you get that sum of money?” His incredulity nettled Beatrice. “Out of my pocket-book! Five one-hundred-dollar bills. Count them. Take them; they won’t burn you. I pay you in advance.”

She had extended the amount in question. Its unexpected possession, the munificence of the reward, fairly stunned the Doctor. “I can’t understand how you come to have so much money,” he began. “Don’t try to.” interrupted Beatrice, impatiently. “Briefly, I have come into possession of several thousand dollars. I choose to spend the money as I like. I offer you SSOO to help me. Do you agree?” “Yes, indeed!” “First, my identity and plans are to be a dead secret between us, now and hereafter. ’’ “Trust me for that. ” “Next, you are to obey me implicitly.” “With such pay for my services, I am your slave!” “Very good. First and foremost, I wish you to go now, and at once, and 1 learn all you can about the whereabouts of Bayrrond Marshall.” “Eh!” ejaculated the Doctor, with a start. “I don’t think he is in the village.” “then ascertain where he is.” “I’ll t.y.” “Next, find out about the whispered financial complications in the affairs of his father. Col. Marshall.” “That is more easy." “And report progress to me as soon as you can. ” “There shall bo no de^hjf;” Dr. Simms departed. Beatrice looked excited, suspenseful. “The ball set in motion—oh! with a trusted ally and unlimited wealth, I cannot fail in the scheme I have adopted.” She counted the hours until late in the afternoon. Her face underwent vivid changes of color and expression as there was a knock at the door finally. “Come in!” It was her ally, Dr. Simms. He looked tired and excited. “Well?” she demanded imperiously. “I’ve had an atternoon of it.” “You have found Raymond Marshall?”

“He returned home this morning.” “From where?” “From a fruitless, heartbroken quest for that girl he was spoony on at the seminary—the one who disappeared so mysteriously.” “Edna Deane, you mean?” “Yes; that’s the name. He’s been searching for her everywhere, neglecting business, growing so thin and pale that they say he is fast breaking down.” “And his father?” “Added trouble there! Dark rumors say that his business integrity is at stake, that a financial crash threatens. I ma,de circumspect but close inquiries. He is at the office of the lawyer now, striving to adjust affairs. You see ” “You need not toll me more," interrupted Beatrice, impatiently. “I know more than you do, probably, about that. At the lawyer’s office?” she continued, arising and putting on her wraps. “Report to me here about eight o’clock this evening." “ You are not going?” “To the lawyer’s office myself.” She left the hotel alone. In ten minutes she entered the outer room of the offices of the lawyer her informant had referred to. She sank to a chair near to the halfopen door of the compartment marked “Frivate,” adjoining. Then she bent her ear and listened eagerly. Voices sounde 1 quite clearly. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction as she realized that accident had enabled her to enter the office and linger unperceived. Her heart beat quicker as she recognized the broken, pleading tones of Colonel Marshall, Raymond's father, and the words he uttered were: “Ten thousand dollars! Impossible! I tell you that unless I have time, unless those documents are suppressed or destroyed, I am a ruined man!” “Just in time! I shall win. Everythings favors me!” fell in a baleful, triumphant murmur from the lips of the confident Beatrice Mercer. CHAPTER XU. SAVED. Beatrice Mercer drew nearer to the half-open door, as those ominous words sounded forth: • “Unless those documents are suppressed or destroyed, I am a ruined man!” A strong man spoke them, but the voice, while mournful, bore a token of pleading, despairing agony. The listener knew that the speaker was the father of Raymond Marshall. What she already knew of his business complications had brought her to Hopedale. It was through the father that she relied upon reaching the son. There was the rustling of papers, and then the lawyer's voice reached her ears: *1 am very sorry, Colonel Marshall, but I have my orders to act. * “You can defer action.”

. .“1 would violate my duty to my ell* ents if I deferred it a day longer.” , “Then ” ' “To-morrow Igo into court and submit those document. They represent a personal indebtedness of SB,OOO. They represent your .indorsement for $2,000 more. The distressing feature of the latter amount is that thb alleged maker of the note denies its validity. In other words, it is a forgery.” A groan rang from the lips of the unhappy man. "You are right,” he murmured in a hollow, broken tone of deep despair. “My.personal indebtedness does not worry me. I should, never have been called upon to bear it, for I never personally contracted a dollar of it. However, penury, destitution myself and family might honorably endure, but dishonor, never! If that two-thousand-dollar claim is presented in court ’’ “You will be accused of forgery.” “Which I never committed! ’ cried tho Colonel. “You believe me?” “I certainly do, but will a jury? Those documents go in as evidence, on their face showing you are responsible for them." "But I have explained to you! That scoundrel of a partner of mine drew out of the firm a'few months since on the pretense of ill-health. He took nearly all the ready cash, and not until after he had got safe in a foreign land did I learn tnat the alleged valuable assets he had left as my share of the business were only waste paper. Worse than the burden of debt, he left those forged notes. I hypothecated them. Now I am accused of uttering them!" “Can you not take them up?” insinuated the lawyer. “Impossible! I have vainly tried to borrow. My son' a dependence usually, has lost all interest in business and wanders about half-crazed over the disappearance of a heartless jilt. No, ruin stares me in the sac the pris-on-dock, dishonor, death! ” “I am sorry for you.” That was all the lawyer could say, |TO BE CONTINUER |

The Baby Had to Go, Too.

A man, a woman, and a baby—the man and woman on a tricycle and the baby sleeping in a. basket swung from two arms in front of the machine—were going up the west drive in Central Parle yesterday morning, says the New York World. Several packages were strapped to the machine and the man and woman were dressed as if for an outing. It was quite early, not yet 6 o’clock, as they came up Eighth avenue and entered the park at 59th street. The few people who were on the street turned so gaze at the queer outfit, and smiled as they caught sight of the infant in its swinging basket. Above the basket was a canopy like that of a baby carriage. At the entrance to the park the man stopped to tighten the straps on a package. He was a sun-burnt, athletic-looking young fellow with pleasant gray eyes and a full dark beard; His wife, who sat behind him, looked pale and thin and was dressed in blue flannel. “Yes," he said, in answer to an inquiry, “I had this machine made to order. My wife’s health has not been good lately and we decided to take Our vacation in this way, and,” turning to his wife with a smile, “of course we couldn’t leave the youngster behind. Wife said he would have to go too, so I had the basket rigged up for him. No, we shall not camp out. We expect to travel morning and evenings and rest in the middle of the day when it is hot, and at night we shall put up at some farm house or country hotel. We expect to be gone about two weeks, and have no particular destination, but shall travel about in a leasurely sort of a way and try to get hack my wife's health. Name? Oh, no. never mind that; but don’t you think it is a good idea?” :

A Custom of the Past.

Western people, who are eminently practical in tneir ideas, are doing away with the custom of baring heads at funerals, giving as a reason that it endangers the health. Aside from this a funeral, as it Is conducted nowaday, often leads to serious resuits. A delicate member of the family, who, perhaps, has not been out of the house for weeks, worn down and prostrated by the care and grief incident to the loss of a dear relative, is subjected to a long, slow ride on a cold, inclement day. Custom has had its way; the victim following the custom, thinking it a duty, returns to her home, not to go out again until she is followed over the same road to the last resting place by perhaps others who fall victims after her. “I ain a comparatively young man,” says a phj'sician, “and yet I have not fingers enough on which to count cases of this kind that have come under my observation and in my own experience, and I have resolved to raise my voice against this custom whenever and wherever I may have the opportunity.”

Moorish Locusts Feed Man and Beast.

The British consul at Mogador, while on an excursion inland, about a day’s journey from Mogador, met flights of locusts. He says it was an astonishing and interesting though painful sight, the air being in some parts so thick with them that they formed a dense living brown, fog, through which he could hardly find his way, while they so completely covered the giound that the utmost caution was necessary in walking, as he could not tell whether be was treading on soft sand, hard, slippery rock, or what. Many birds feasted on the insects, including large flights of gulls from the sea, and beasts evidently enjoy their share, for in the middle of the densest swarm he saw a fine red fox dancing about in the most frantic manner, leaping and snapping up dozens of locusts in the air, until, seeing the stranger, he suddenly dropped on all fours and quickly vanished in the live fog. Not only did the barbel get their share of the novel food (the consul used the locusts successfully as bait for them) but some of the fish of the Atlantic were found gorged with locusts which had been blown off the land by easterly winds. As usual, they were extensively eaten by the native population, both Jipfiammedan and Jewish.

On the Western prairie is found what is called the compass plant, which is of great value to travelers. The long leaves at the base of its stem are placed, not flat, as in plants generally, but in a vertical position and present their edges north and south. The peculiar propensity of the plant is attributed to the fact that both surfaces of its leaves display an equal receptivity for light, whereas the upper surfaces of the leaves of most plants are more sensitive to light than the lower; the leaves thus assume a vertical position and point north and south. Truckee, Nev., had a shaving concontest recently. The successful artist scraped his man in forty-five seconds, and no blood was shed.

CHRISTMAS

' /M&BUIfr GOOD old-fashioned MV/Mini Chris’mas, with the lr fkM logs upon the heart h, ?-fpl pit lk# The table Ailed with 'l-M feasters.an'theroom .All —-.jl a-roar 'th mirth, V*u With the stockln’s jB II Ajif crammed to bu’stln’, (gLU an’the medders piled ' ’lth snow— A good old-fashioned Cbrls’tnas like we had so long agol Sow that’s the thing I’d like to see ag’ln afore I die. But Chris’mas In the city here—lt’s different, oh my I, With the crowded hustle-bustle of the slushy, noisy street, An’ the scowl upon the faces of the strangers that you meet Oh, there’s huyln’, plenty of It, of a lot o’ gorgeous toys! An’ It takes a mint o’ money to please modern girls and hoys. Why, I mind the time a jack-knife an’a toffy-lump for me Made my little heort an’ stockin’ lus’ chock-full of Ohrls’mas glee. An' there’s feastin’. Think o’ feedtn’ with these stuck-up city folk! Why. ye have to speak In whispers, an* ye dar’sn’t crack a joke. Then remember how the tables looked all crowded with your kin, When you couldn’t hear a whistle blow across tho merry din! You see I'm* so old-fashloned-Uke I don't care much for style, An' to eat your Ohrls'mas banquets here I wouldn’t go a mllei I’d rather have, like Bolomon, a goodyarbdinnGr set With real old friends than turkle soup with all the nobs you’d get Thero's my next-door neighbor Gurley—fancy bow his brows 'u’d lift If I’d holler “MerVy Ohrls’masl Caught, old fellow, Chrls’mas gift!" Lordy-Lord, I'd like to try It! Guess he’d noarly have a fit Hang this city stiffness, anyways, I can’t get used to It Then your heart I<4 kept a-swellln’ till It nearly bu’st your side. An’ by night your jaws were achin’ with you smiles four Inches wide. An' your enemy, the ivo’stone, you'd Just grab his hand, an' say: "Mebbe. both of us was wrong, John. Come, let's shake. It's Chris’mas Day I” Mighty little Chris'mas spirit seems to dwoll ’tween city walls, Where each snowflake brlrifcs a soot-flake for a brother as It falls: Mighty little Chris’mas sptrltl An’ I’m pinin', don't you know, For a good old-fashioned Chris'mas like we had so long ago. —Century.

SOMETHING TANGIBLE.

IE- was tired; the look of ennui on the stern, cold face, the drawn expression about the eyes, the listless pose of the body, the aimless, uncertain wandering of the thin, nervous fingers bespoke it, verified It, made it certain. Yes; he was tired. As he glanced about his elegant offices, now deserted by the

clerks for the New Year’s holiday, the suggestion of wealth, power, and high financial standing had no charm to evoke enthusiasm. To Richard Penrith the handsome balance in the ledger, the princely securities locked up in the mass/Ve safe, the plump bank account at the great trust institution across the way, were no more at that moment than a heap of dross, a bundle of withcr«r autumn leaves. One o’clock in the afternoon; the clerks had gone home, and he sat lost in gloomy, profitless, motiveless reverie. Two —he still stared at vacancy, thinking of nothing, of everything; wishing the wheels of business would never stop, feeling as lonely and out of his element in the festive prospects of the next day, as if he was an uncongenial spirit from another world. Three o’clock. From the stone-paved court below, there was wafted to his hearing the merry voices of young clerks and messenger boys engaging in the pranks and capers that followed the last “settllhg up” of the year. The hearty, boyish accents made him wince. How long it seemed since he was ‘‘ J %" boy! How many years since he'put love, emotion, every human sentiment, into a sealed casket, buried it fathoms deep, and became a sordid, money-making machine! With a sigh, bitter and resentful, he put on his hat, hurried from the office, stepped into his handsome carriage at the curb below, and was driven homeward down the magnificent boulevard, one of the richest, certainly the most wretched, of men in all the great city. The portals of his princely home opened to admit him to luxury and comfort a king might covet. His sister, who directed in domestic affairs and well maintained the social status of the establishment, met him, attired with the elegance of a queen. “Richard, we ishall need you tonight” He frowned irritably. “What is it now?” he queried. “A reception. I expect two generals, an artist, and some of the best people of our set. Do try and come out of your shell of uncongeniality for once. ”

“And shrivel in the hypocritical glare of false friendship and hollow pleasure?” he interrupted bitterly. “No, sister. I thank you, but a quiet corner for me. I am tired— I am weary of all this show, vanity and vain labor. Five years a drudge, five more a cynical, flint-hearted moneymaker. and what is the recompense?” His sister stared at him in amazement. The recompense! Was the man going mad? Wealth, social eminence, a proud name! What heights

could possibly lay beyond that pinnacle of earthly grandeur and success? “Excuse me for to-night,” pleaded Penrith. “I am tired of It all. Oh, if out of it all I could extract one grain of comfort, one genuine emotion of enjoyment—something akjn to the old boyish zest—something tangible!” Something tangible! He dwelt on the words at the stately dinner table. They lingered with him as he tried to settle down to a quiet smoke in the library. There arose in his mind a picture of the past. It was poverty, obscurity then; but a thought of the bare-footed rambles through the woods, of the real coziness of the little attic-room back at the old homestead, of ambitions tinged with ideal sentiment and glowing hopes, glorified the years now dead. He glanced from the window at the dying day. Mournful, inexpressibly cold, repellant, unlovely, seemed the wilderness of stately mansions and stiff, precise equipages on the street without. Ilow different the dear old village where he was born! The narrow streets, its quaint homes, its heart-warming people floated across his vision now, and seemed part of another world. It was not so very far away. That little country town nestling among the hills was only an hour’s ride from the great metropolis. Was he getting sentimental? What was this strange impulse that lured him to steal thither like a thief ashamed, and try to warm the frozen currents of his dreary life at the ashes of a dead past? Ah! the dear old town. Ilow natural it looked! The old red school-house, the rickety depot, the broad common—once again, for the first time in ten years, Richard Penritli trod his native soil that night. He wandered about the place like an uneasy ghost haunting the scenes of former experiences. He felt a keen paug of actual envy as he peered through the frost-crested windows of the homely village store, and saw its proprietor, happy, serene, all one glow of perfect delight over the' gathering in of an extra few dollars for holiday business. Why! a turn of stock in tho city oftep. meant a fortune for him, and yet scarcely stirred a nerve!

All heart, all sympathy, all human, simple felicity! What a paradise, compared to the hot-house, superficial life of the city! He paused as a name spoken by a bent, old man, passing with a companion, struck his ear with a shock. “It’s all Miss Naomi’s doings, sir. Bless her dear heart! She’s nursed my wife back to health, she’s got my boy a situation, and we ain’t the first that angel of charity has helped.” “Miss Hewitt is a great friend to the poor; yes.” Naomi Miss Hewitt! Richard Penrith stood stock still on the snowy street. A 'slight flush surmounted his brow, his eyes grew larger, then tender.

Strange how he had forgotten her —stranger still that after all these years the sudden recurrence of that once treasured name could stir his nature as it had not been moved for nearly a decade! Ho tried to smile at the memory of their boy and girl love,, but failed. Something choked him its he walked on, and paused to peer through the windows of a neat, pretty cottage. Yes, there was the “best room” brightly lighted, and old Mrs. Hewitt seated knitting, surrounded by coziness and warmth. There was the pretty rustic porch. How often lie had kissed Naomi good-night under the dew-spangled vines surrounding it. All was the same, only the vines were dead and drooping now, All was the same. His heart gave a great bound as the vivid lamplight showed a little framed portrait on the wall; 'nis picture as he had been, treasured, esteemed faithfully by the winseme lass he had sacrificed to the cold, cynical demands of gold. He fell to wondering how Naomi looked now. She was not visible about the house, and he strolled reluctantly on, and passing people stared suspiciously at him. He followed the concourse. Ah, another reminder of the past, the old church, its glowing portals an open welcome to all the weary, and hungered, and penitent. He entered and glided to an obscure pew. It took him back ten years. How a certain watch-night meeting one New Year’s Eve long ago came back to his mind! Naomi was there then, and he was her “company:” Why! Naomi was here now! Yes! his heart thrilled as he made her out.

Changed? Yes, as gentle years of sympathy, and purity, and love for fellow mankind change the face of a saint. The glory of perfect womanhood in her kindly beaming eyes made»* Richard Penrith shrink at a sense of his own callous unworthiness. Angelic influences were here tonight, surely. The white-haired preacher seemed to appeal to his heart as to a brother's. He was distressed, awakened, and then a peaceful calm swayed his soul—he hated the things he had loved, he realized the hollowness of the bright bauble he had striven for, holding at its call only bitter dust and flight. How his heart beast! It most have been dead for years? New Year’s chimes ringing, he stood on the church porch, he . timorously advanced to the side of the trim, loving. fond woman he had watched all the evening. “Naomi—Miss Hewitt, do you not remember me?” Her face paled, her little hand trembled as he grasped jt. Then her soul beamed out in hoDest welcome, and then « ' They were boy and gill again, “keeping company,” walking home from watch meeting as of yore, and the holy stars smiled down.

Richard Penrith bade Naomi Hewitt good-by at the cottage porch only to return the next day. At evening he returned to the city to be greeted with dismay at his unexplained absence by his sister. “You have alarmed us, Richard. So unlike you, too. But you bet-

ter. I declared You haven't seemed like yonrgxwn-self for an age. New Year’s resolutions, Richard?” , t she laughed archly. “Yes,” replied the brother, his eyes sparkling, “I have determined to turn over a new leaf.” “Indeed. Give up your cigars—come out in society?” ’■ “As a married man, yes." “Richard!" “I mean it, sister,” spoke Richard Penrith, solemnly and earnestly. “This New Year’s day has taught me to value the true pleasures of life—not wealth, not power, not pride.” “Ah! You have found something else, Richard?” “Yes," replied Richard Penrith, tenderly. “Back at my boyhood’s home, back where Naomi is waiting for me to claim her as my wife, I have found—something tangible—love!” Margaret Mahan.

CHRISTMAS ON THE FARM.

The Day Should lie One or Joy and Happiness In the Rural Home. Because the regular routine of chores has to be gone through 305 days a year is no reason why Christmas’and other holidays should not be days of gladness and good cheer upon tho farm. Make the samo provision the day before, for the lessening tho amount of work that must be done, ns you do for Sunday: then let it bo don© up as quickly as possible as thoroughness will allow; and wo believe in showing “good will” to even tho dumb brutes by giving them an extra allowance oil foed, either in qualify or quantity—not that we think they have any appreciation of the day or motive that prompts it, hut they will approciute the fact. The work done ujl, turn about to have just as good a time as possible—a day full of joy and happiness because the pleasure of others is sought more than the gratification of self. If the home consists of only “wife and 1.” sec that wife has as much attention and “waiting on" us when you were courting her. If there is sleighing the old times can be all the bettor revived, if not, and the wheeling is not good, just make tho day one of the best in which to see your “girl." If ijie home nest has birdiings In it, hayq.il, romp with these; if the "birdlings” have grown to be “great strapping follows,’’ show them that father can be a boy with them and have a good time at hunting, trapping, or whatever they choose. If those who bless your home are fair maidens of “sweet sixteen,” or any other age, consult their wishes and tastes as to'how tho day is to be used. Id either of the lhst three cases be sure the wife and mother is consulted and her wishes put, first. Where there Is hired help, havo,.th© day a glad one for them, too, whether they wisli to seek enjoyment elsewhere or in the home of their employer. Americans do not take enough holidays. American Jarmers do not unbend,often enough or long enough. Try taking more leisure, begin with New Year’s, 1893, and continue at Intervals through the year, and see if Christmas ’O3 does not find you younger and less worn out than Christmas 1892 did.

Hints for Christmas.

Don’t ask your child what he wantl unless you Intend giving It to him. Though money makes the mare go, It makes Santa Claus come. Don’t buy your best girl a present on the Installment plan, as she might Jilt you before you had made all tho payments. Hub the price mark off the present unless it is an cjyienslve one. If you wish to surprise your girl never ask her what she would lilt* for Christmas. When you have the Christmas trei up, it doesn’t mean that you have It fixed up. At Christmas time it is well enough to ape the English us far as the plum pudding is concerned. Some persons never wish you a merry Christmas unless they think they will get tomething for doing so. Santa Claus would never make i school-master. Whatever is good h« puts at the foot of the stocking. The bachelor who puts his thumt into the boardirig-houio Christmai pie is apt to pull out a collar button. —Judge.

Lant Year’s ChrUtmas Gifts.

I wonder where last year's Christ mas presents arc? A great many o! them have gone into the shades oi the dust bin, a great many of them are nuisances around houses, a great many of them have been kept to give to somebody else this year. I suppose some of them have been and are religiously kept. Everybody has some little keepsake, often the least costly, that he docs not want to part with. Who knows? A little hand has wrapped it in silk paper and tied it with blue ribbon, and the ribbon is around it yet, perhaps the paper, too. There is a little tender note in the packet signed with a little tender name, and it carries indestructibly the w hispers of a tender love. The little hand has possibly slapped him since, and rested affectionately before the minister in another’s palm; but that little package recalls a lot ol sweetness, and in the seclusion of his thoughts, even in the ecstasy of a new love, he says to himself, “If I hadn’t foulfdjf'her out!" San Francisco Chronicle.

The New Leaf. , January 1. Swore off. 2. Caught cold. it. Rad couzh. Was told Rock and ry» ’D knock It high ’Er'n a kite. ' • , Friend and I Sat all night, Good and tight. 4. Fainted town I Rosy red. 5. Broken down. Large head. Aching sore; . Don't think .' O V, j Ever drinkAny more. —Winnipeg Sittings. * “Now, Johnny, yotf’ve had a merry Christmas, and you must be good till next Christmas to p$ for it.” “Ob, yes, of course, be good. I don’t believe you can hire me to be good a whole year for a tin horse and a story hook just like what Bill Jones was going to trade me for three marbles. Not much 4 The reward of on,e duty is the power to fulfill another.

A WOMAN LAWYER.

- ' ***** rhe Remarkable Career of Ml»* Ella F. Knowlea—Her Legal Work. "S,. One of the queer things in the election of 1892 was the choosing of Mi« Ella F. Knowles, by a large majority,

MISS KNOWLES.

she graduated from the Northwood Seminary at the age of 15, and on© year later from the New Hampshire State Normal School. Afterwards she went to Bates College, Lewiston, Me., from which she graduated In the class of ’B4, receiving the degree of A. B. Four years later Bates College conferred on her the degree of -A. M. In 1885 Miss Knowles commenced the study of law in the office of Burnham & Brown, Manchester, N. H. She prosecuted her studies there about a year, when, on account of ill health, she went West, and took th« chair of elocution and Latin in lowa College. Being advised by physicians to go among the mountains, she went to Helena in the fall of 1887! She taught one year in the central school there, and then resumed the study of law. There was considerable prejudice against allowing her to practice. So the little woman went to work among the mombers of the last Territorial Legislature, that of 1888’B9, and had a bill introduced and passed to admit women to practice law. She was admitted to the bar on December 1, 1890. Now she has a practice of which many men would he proud, and is peculiarly popular among them.

KILLED BY A BEECH NUT.

l’rcullnr Aoolilrnt Which Elided the Life of it Chiltlncli. There have been Instances of deer meeting death by having their antlers inseparably locked together dur-

CHAFFINC H KILLED BY A BEECH NUT

lng a fight, and also of wading hints being captured and slowly killed by tho occupants of bivalve shells on the seashore. The illustration represents the only known example of an animal being killed in this peculiar way. The bird is a chaffinch, and ho has lost his life by peeking his lower mandible through a beech nut that he was vainly endeavoring to open. The shell became tightly wedged ou the beak so that tho unfortunate bird was unable to scrape It off, and death by starvation was the Inevitable result.

How Famous Rulers Dled.

Louis XVII., titular King of Franco, the unfortunate dauphin, died in the Temple of Paris of abuse and neglect. His body was identified and certified to by four members of the Committee on Public Safety and by more than twenty pflicials of the temple. The remains were privately buried in the cemetery of St. Marguerite and every trace of the grave was carefully obliterated. Herod the Great was attacked by a vile disease, which caused his body to mortify oven before death. When aware that he was near his end he commanded all the most noble and prominent men of the Jewish nation to be apprehended and confined in a theater near his palace and gave orders that as soon as he was dead they were all to be slain. He intended, he said, to have mourning at his death. They were released after he had breathed his last. William the Conqueror was a man of very gross habit of body, and at the siege of Nantes was hurt by the rearing of his horse, the pommel of the saddle striking the King in the abdomen and causing injuries from which he died in a few days. Before his death he was deserted by all his attendants, who stole and carried off even the coverings of the bed on which he lay. The body remained on the floor of the room in which the King died for two days before it was buried by charitable monks from a neighboring monastery. William Rufus was killed by an arrow, either accidental or with murderous intent. He died in the New Forest, his body was stripped by tramps, and the next day was found by a charcoal burner, who placed the naked corpse on his cart, hoping to receive a reward. On the way to Winchester the cart was upset and the King’s body fell in the mire. Covered with filth and black with charcoal it arrived in Winchester, where it was buried in the Cathedral. A few years later the tower fell and crushed the tomb and 600 years after the Puritans rifled the grave and played foot-ball with the King’s skull. — Globe-Democrat

Lady Henry Was Curious. When Lady Somerset first came to America, she was particularly anxious to become acquainted with all the American customs and to take part in everything American. Her appreciation of America was intense. “Now, will you tell me,” said she one day to a friend, “why the chestnut has been selected as a national nut, and why it is so dear-to the hearts of every one? I notice that all, be they old or young, boy or girl, man or woman, speak of the chestnut frequently, and always pleasantly, and even affectionately. i. . “To-day, as I was seated in one of your horse cars, a little boy began telling another one some short anecdote, when suddenly the other little boy sprang to his feet and shouted, ‘Oh, chestnuts!’ Later in the day I saw one man whisper something in the ear of a friend, to which the friend only replied, “Oh, what a chestnut!’ “How pleasant to have something of which every one is so fond. But explain the pause of the liking. Way was that particular nut selected? Why not. the almond or the pecan? Is it that the chestnut grows ntn freely here?”—New’ York World.

as Attorney General of Montana. Miss Knowles wasborninNorthwood, Rockingham county, N. H:, and Is tho daughter of David Knowles and Louisa Knowles. Her mother died when she was 14 years of age, and