Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 3 February 1884 — Page 3

THE MOTHER/

Though lost in the -whirlpool of passion, Though high 6n the pathway to fame, When.hopes of our innocent chl'-"—

Have melted away to a name, \tt A 4 AMok* 1lt*M a «mM A«n1l *1

uiciwu twnj Mi miiiiP)

One thought, like a gem amid ruins,, Will dazzle our eyes with its Joy. And brine back the sweet words she ut"You'll think of your mother, my boy." You'll think of the love that she show-

Unfailing by day and by night You'll sigh for the sweet good-night kisses, WL a «llk ikitlB *v« AnW 1 Atfl HIT Klrh

ieasant.

U1 iUv WU VI UaVli UOCuUU vi

Vj I

Your heart back to her still will iourney— You'll think of your mother, my boy! "Wherever the smiles of a mother

Have lightened a heart of its care, God's blessing has hallowed its roof-tree! A glimpse of sweet heaven is there! Though further the years lure us onward,

They cannot her mem'ry destroy In silence and tears all unbidden You'll think of your mother, my boy.

HILDA.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY, AUTHOR OF "DORA THORN E."

CHAPTER XXIX.

When her husband left ber, Lady Hilda nat, incapable of connected thought, conscious only of deep unutterable anguish, tbat dulled her brain and seemed to paralize her mind. She never remembered in after years liow the hours passed after her father ivu Lo„ -woo lyto

dream of pain,

full of sad and miserable pictures. The long night brought her no rest and no calm. She tried to pray, but her restless heart and restless lips could not be controlled. She tried to think, but'thought was impossible. AH around her, in letters of fire, she read tbat she was an imposter, a convict's daughter, who had no business there.

On some, such trouble would have fallen lightly but to that sensitive, loving, truthful nature it was n.artyrdom. If she could have gone and thrown herself at her husband's feet, and' told him all, confessing her unworthiness to be the mistress of the proud home where he had placed her, unworthy of the name and love of one whose race had never known the taint of shame, her sorrow would have been light in comparison. The worst that could have befallen her would have been that her husband would have sent her from him. From her height of pride Lady Bayneham would scorn her, and Barbara Earle would look on with sor. row and wonder. Yet &H that was far easier to bear than the consciousness of her secret. The knowledge that she was the child of one who had broken the law and Buffered the fate of a convict—the knowledge that she, although Lady Hutton's heiress ana adopted daughter, was after after all au impostor—there was something even harder than tbat, and it was the necessity of keeping a secret from her huBband, the noble, upright man, who had trusted her so deeply and loved her so well

Hilda since this barrier had arisen between them—since she had lost the power of looking with clear, truthful eyes in his face and she would have suffered anything willingly if she might have told him. -•.

I il 1. 1 I t_ UnfrtHA

ing mother asked her to take and an oath was a sacred and solemn matter

UOI.U tvdo

Lady Hilda, not a promise that could bo lightly broken. The third, and perhapi father'E

ps the most binding, was her determination, if the secret became known, to kill himself. He would do it, she knew,—that vain, proud nature would never withstand the shock he would kill himself^ and she would be answerable for his life.

There was no alternative, she must bear her husband's anger as best she could, endure his mother's proud dislike, and Barbara Earle's sweet look of wondering sorrow. 8he did not fear that Lord Bayneham would discover the fact of her presence in the Lady's Walk that night. If he did BO, and knew she had been there with Mr. Fulton, there was no help for her she must then tell him all.

Hour after hour passed, and Lauy Hilda still sat where her husband had left her. From the confused mist of her thoughts one idea gradually grew upon her. It was that she must keep her secret, and learn to endure in silence all that it brought upon her.

The fair young child, for she was little else, wondered why this hard lot had fallen upon her. Only a few months since, and her happiness was perfect, without a flaw now her trouble seemed greater than she could bear. What had she done that she should be thus punished?

No great or grievous sin marred or stained the course of that fair, tranquil life. She had done her duty as far as she knew it, both to God and man. She had never wronged another, and the poor and the sorrowing rose up to bless her. Why was she punisned so heavily?—all her sorrows came from the sins and follies of others. The weight fell upon her, crushing tho brightness from her life, bending the golden head low in hunble shame. "Why was it?" Reason gave no answer. She remembered her mother's words, that all would be clear in another world—she would know and understand why Bhe had suffered in this. Then over the fair, sad face there stole a look of sweet, humble resignation. The wild tempest of sorrow became calm, and the beating rebellious heart grew still. "I must bear it," said Lady Hilda to herself and many others, by the bare utterance of these words, have learned to endure heavy sorrows in silence.

I-ord Bayeham was ill at ease. Ho loved his beautiful young wife with a devotion that knew no limits. He could not in his wildest dreams imagine her capable of even an imprudence and he wondered until wonder became pain, what she was keeping from him. He did not see how it was possible for Lady Hilda to' have any secrets the simple story of her life was an open book, in which he had read every charming, innocent page. As for any love nonsence, he would Booner have suspected a bright-winged angel of mercy than his pure, loving, gentle wife. He would have dismissed the whole affair as nonsense, but for her own words—her own admission, that she had a secret which she could not share with him.

He stood in the librarv a maris of papers lay in a confused heap upon the^ table, aU awaiting his attention, but he had none to spare for them. It was seldom the young lord of Bayneham bare so disturbed an expression on his comely face. He was at a standstill, and knew not what to do. If for a moment he felt angry with his young wife, the remembrance of her words her pale, wistful face lying on his 'breast—came over him, and all anger melted away.

As he was pondering over what to do, and perplexed by many thoughts, Barbara Earle entered the room—Barhn«L whose noble, sool-lit face looked ^rene and calm. For a moment. Lord Swnebam's whole heart seemed to go

""t her. There was no mys-

JH*concealment

Srv

nonsense about Hilda's bracelet? Lady Bayneham has just been telling me wheie you found it."

idy iJaynenam nas just Deen reuinjj

even the

Lord Bayneham kissed his cousins hand, loving her better in that moment than he had ever done before. She smiled as she quitted the library, leaving the sunshine of her brave, generous words behind her.

No one loved or belieued in Lady Hilda more strongly than her busband. He wanted to make his mother share that faith. For himself, Barbara's words almost satisfied him. If he could but conceive Lady Bayneman I He resolved to see the maid

surpi

"•Sft

As she sat there, white and still as a garden a few minutes, marble Btatue, tho impulse was strong "'she

upon her to go after him and tell him all but three things prevented her,— three reasons held her bound in chains of iron. The first was his words, that "such a one" should be sent back to her own friends. If she confided her secret to her husband he would send her to live with the terrible father whose conduct had so fatally blighted her life. The second, the oath her dy- some, devoted

oha OQT,t me awflV 1

an(j

ham was, must be.

here, nothing

but Vlt ir, glorious t"ith eyes rH'sea to ^his^ Qidade?" she

rw,"i^ily.

ifAS

askr.i,

(,r088|

ing as iKissibl^fnost

Sorely you are pot

in Tact.

tbia

N! T'

one of

where vou found it." The mystery must be solved she "And how do you imagine it came had refused to tell him the contenteof ere asked the earl of his cousin. the notes but let that pass—most likely they contained little but nonsense.

there?" asked the earl of his cousin. "I shouldlnevertryto discover," said Barbara. "Perhaps Hilda's maid took it to be cleaned or repaired, or something else, and dropped it or, perhaps Hilda walked in her sleep. I tell you what, Claude I should imagine every combination of strange and si circumstances before I dared to ti

slightest wrong of one so pure

and gentle as your wife." "But it seems strange," said Lord Bayneham. "The thing that puzzles me most is, that she seems so frightened—dhe trembles at the very mention of the word." "Is shfe frightened?" asked Barbara, earnestly. "Then my idea is a correct one. Rely upon it, Claude, there is some little mystery, and Hilda is shielding some one else from blame." "She ought at least to confide in me, said Lord Bayneham. "Perhaps she fears your anger for the real culprit," said Miss Earle. "I do not think so," replied her cousin "she talks so tragically to me, poor child, that I am afraid there is something not quite straightforward. She tells me she cannot explain." "Then," replied Barbara, with generous spirit, "if she says so, Claude, never Beek to know the rest. When a pure, guileless woman, like Hilda, wishes to keep a secret, be noble, and allow her to do so. Rely upon it, her motive justifies her." "You love my wife, Barbara, said Lord Bayneham. "That I do," replied Barbara, "truly and warmly. I have implicit faith in her. Why, Claude, remember that sweet face. What could it hide ?—no sin, no error, no wrong, I am sure. Depend upon it, this little affair of the bracelet, so perversely magnified, is nothing, after all. Most probably Pauline hssbeon careless and Hilda shields her from blame."

happy her lady

CHAPTER XXX

Lord Bayneham was bewildered. If his wife chose to walk out at any hour or in any place she was perfectly free to do so but he could imagine no reason why she should endeavor to keep so trivial a circumstance secret from him. He even remembered that once before, some long time since when they were speaking of the effects of late heurs, he himself had said that, after a brilliant evening passed in the excitement of conversation or other

mental efforts, nothing was so good as a few minutes spent in the fresh air.,

IT «UA 4«/L VTTIKIM FN I there which she did not wish him to know?

Think as he would, Lord Bayneham was no nearer Bolving the mystery so he went out into the park, wondering if the fresh air would give him any inspiration. As he strolled listlessly along, Simpson, the head gamekeeper, saw him, and drew near, as though

Simpson?"

w»

"Saw me here!" said the young Earl "where, and at what time? "It would be after ten," replied the man. "You were in the Lady's Walk with my ladv. I saw her face,

not youra, my lord I did not like to

She would not explain the finding of the bracelet that, too, might pass/but she must tell him with whom she walked and talked at night and alone.

When Lord Bayneham entered his wife's room she was sitting just as he had left her, still and calm asastat-

U"I must learn to bear it," she had said to herself, when his voice at the door startled her.

When he entered the room Lady Hilda's heart sank at the expression of {ace* "Hilda," he said hoarcely, "I know all. You have no more to conceal."

Ah, never again did he see on mortal face such a look of agony as hers wore then never did human voice sound so despairingly. "You know all?1' she said, rising and standing with clasped hands before him.

Now came the error which for years wrecked those two lives. "I know all," said Lord Bayneham.

He meant to say that he knew she had been in the Lady's Walk, and not alone but she thought by those few words he meant to say that he knew all her secrets, and that she had nothing more to conceal from him. Often and often have the events of a lifetime hinged upon a mistake less grave than

thHis

words, spoken jestingly, so long

ago, flashed across her, when she asked him if he were deceived in his wile what would, he do, and his answer had been, "Such a one must return to friends. I should know how to find a remedy for the mistake," "Claude, you know all, she said, looking at him steadily "did you mean what you said?—must I go?

He did not understand to what Bhe

His sentence was never completed, for just at that moment Pauline knocked at the door, "The duke of Laleham is waiting to see you, my lord," said the maid.

His grace W8s far too important a

maid personage to be kept waiting, and Lord

herself, and question her, and he)did Bayneham went into the library, wishso,—and she looked very pretty and ing his visitor in any other place. For smiling as she stood before^ him. one hour and a half he patiently en"I am thinking of ordering a jewel dured the martyrdom. case for Lady Bayneham," he said. "I vitally interested in some county busiwish to surprise her with it. Give me I trniinor nfiiohhor's

the size of the one Bhe uses. With smiling, coquettish grace the maid complied and there was nothing like even a shadow of fear in her face. 'I am afraid the case in use is not a secure one," continued Lord Bayneham "and I have some reasons for sounded familiarly u» cm. believing her ladyship's jewels are not was Hilda's voice he heard, not his well kept." Grace of Laleham's—Hilda's voice,

SU£ord*'

Pauline ventured respectfully to de- asking if she must go. What did the ny the assertion, asking, as was natu- child njean? Go where?—and for ral, what the reason was. what? There must be some stupid "I found a bracelet in the park this misunderstanding. I would have been nminffsaid Lord Bavnham. "which I cleared up if that good man had but deterred his visit.

morning," said Lord Baynham, "which had evidently been dropped yesterday." "If a bracelet was found there," said Pauline, who did not seem dismayed, "my lady must have dropped it. I believe she walked out for a few minutes he did not show more interest in what

Life bad been all sorrow for Lady last night, she has done so once or geemed to him a momentous question.

twice before. Lord Bayneham made no comment, and Pauline, proud of the young earl's attention to he

er words, chattered on

"Perhaps so," said Lord Bayneham, with well-acted indifference "butdo not mention it, as I intend the jewelcase for a purpose."

Pauline promised obedience and tripped away, thinking what a hand-

husband bow

During that one hour and a hall, which had seemed years to Lady Hilda, she resolved upon a step which

she

afterwords bitterly repented. Believing her husband meant that he knew all her secrets, and that he meant those words, so carelessly uttered, she resolved not to wait until he should send her from him, but go at once.

As she stood by the window watching the sunlight upon the trees, tho sweet, smiling heavens, the glory of flower, and tree, she pictured to herself many scenes. How would the proud and stately countess, who valued nothing on earth BO highly as noble

UUIU1UI4

Mostl probably on that evening MB blood, tolerate the knowledge that her .. Unti'a wifft was a convict's daughter? wife, after leaving the drawing-room,

son's wife was a convict's daughter? a pi re a a S

had gone out (as he had once advised j{Iiew few scornful words in which her to do) and had dropped her brace- Lady Bayneham would deplore her let unpei-ceived but why make any son's mistake, each word searing her mystery of so trifling a secret, unless

Co®te^p^oU8amanner,

and here he grew anxious again—un- jzjnK Ah! no better go at once, less something happened then and

8inceshe

for

was' in the park'a'il'iast night, and 11 Better one sudden wrench than to die

ii 'by inches She looked on the.stately home where her husband's love had placed her should she wait for the time when she should be sent from those walls as one unworthy of their

Simpson then entered into details, more would she touch the gold that of which Lord Bayneham never heard had purchased her never more would one word. His wife had been there, she enter that fair domain of Bryen mar. and not alone:—who was with her? Her mothers'love had been bartered Ah, that was why she fainted with for it. She would leave all false prefear. Could that pure, sweet face hide tenses, a false position, should embitdeceit or guilt? Barbara's words rose ter her life no more, she would go before him, but what would

Barbara

$ "•1 a .•

wife must have been a stranger, not the poor child,/'come to exult over my

those within his own gatffl.

VWMJI

Hi .is grace was

ness, and wanted his young neighbor's

Bayneham tried honestly to

give his attention to every word, but he failed in the attempt. •'Landed interest," "county votes." I "personal influence," occasionally in his ear. But it

The poor duke tried harp to make lis young neighbor understand all he meant. He thought Lord Bayneham singularly absent, and wondered that

11 1

At length his grace rose. "I wish," he said to Lord Bayneham, ."that, if you are -not engaged, you

WOuld

ride over with me to Oulston.

I think the matter in question should

believe my lady walked in the be attended to without delay." ^vjn a few minutes," she continued Lord Bayneham consented, simply sent me away early, and I saw because he could invent no excuse, her afterward going down the north jn

after

staircase. Perhaps she dropped it f0ny f0r if, instead of going with the Duke of Laleham to Oulston, he had

Lord Bayne-

years he railed bitterly at his

sought his wile, and the unhappy mistake had been explained, years of sorrow and unavailing misery would have been spared to them. From the win-. I dow of her own room the unhappy young wife watched her husband ride away,—watched him with a heart that yearned for one more look at his face, one more word from his lips,—watched him with a passion of grief so wild and bitter, that she would gladly have died: she did not think in this world ever to see him again.

the half-patron-

must go, than suffer this.

She pictured Barbara's wonder—Barbara, on whom there rested no stain of another's Bin. Better for her husband had he trampled his love under foot, and married Barbara Earle. There was something harder than that—her husband's last wordsto her. The cold, cruel, words in which he would send her from him—the cold, cruel pride

deliro^tjeak^g tohim. Uith which he would "remedy the "What is it,

asked Lord mistake"—how could she bear ^and

Bayneham, listlessly, annoyed at the live? How could she look upon him intereuntion. and know they must be as strangers"I am afraid we shall have some he whom she loved more dearly than trouble, my lord," replied the man life! She

"I have seen one or two notorious of the handsome, kindly face that had noachers about latelv, and I feel sure smiled into her own. She could not they have been at their old tricks. 11 wait for the sun of her love to set was in the park all last night, an wanted to tell your lordship, Dut I saw you here walking with my lady, and would not interrupt you."

thou8b^.o{,,Brynm"

Bbelter. No,—she would leave it all. The

but proud

castle she called her home, title,

rank,

intrude. them? Who was she?—a convict's Not by one word or look did Lord Bayneham betray his wife. ''Quite right," he said, hastily "but what about those poachers? I do not believe in the game laws, as some of my neighbors do, but I will have no poaching."

position,-what right had she to

them'?* Who was she?—a convict's daughter, a broken-hearted womon, the sun of whose life had set in utter darkness. She said to herself that she could not blame the dead, but that she had been better left to share her mother's fate* What right had she to Lady Hutton's home or wealth Never

from them, where none whoever knew

eav if she knew what he had heard? her should see her again. The gamekeeper spoke in entire Poor child! she was half mad with od faith. He had passed near the wounded love and pride—with tbe [y's walk on the previous evening shock of that interview still upon her, and seen two figures there. When her nerves overwrought her heart and Lady Hilda turned to look in Paul I brain in a tumult of sorrow and exciteFulton's face Simpson Baw her plainly, ment. and naturally supposed: she was with The she grew superstitious. hy her husband. The man thought noth-1 should she have dropped her bracelet ing of the circumstance merely nam- She never remembered to have unina it in a gossiping way—partly to fastened it but for the finding of that prolong hiB interview, and partly to jewel, her secret would have remained show his zeal. a secret still. With a cold, deadly fear "I will attend to it, Simpson we will gathering round her heart, she asked have no poaching," said Lord Bayne- herself, could it be that heaven itham, suddenly interrupting the aston- self was angry with her? She-was half ished gamekeeper in the midst of a mad, and that was the only excuse .«• fhat pmild Ka for her rash act. brilliant description of the poaching affray at Hulsmeer. But not one word he bad uttered was heard by his young master, who was all impatience to find himself once more with his young wife

that could be made for her rash act. From the chaos of thought, one idea stood out boldly—she would go at once, before they had time to reproach her with her father's fault, and send her

Alf'the wayliom'e LordBayneham away. No passionate weeping, no wild was pondering on the one question— I burst Of sorrow came to the reliei 01 who was walking with his wife after' hni-ninir brain. Sn ten at night, when she was supposed to be in her own room Could it have been Mr. Fulton ?—no, the idea was simply ridiculous. Mr. Fulton might have admired her but, under the earl of Bayneham's own vuoi he wonld not dare to solicit an interview with his wife. Even b»d he the audacity _—

JSMrtW SSSiWS •&-»

that burning brain. She moved about the sumptuous room like one in a dream, just conscious of what she was going to do, hut aotKing more.

Like an electric shock came the sound at Lady Bayneham's voice, asking for admittance. She supposed that by this time the whole matter was made clear, and she came in to

"I wish

fall,"and tell me"she always thought quickly, but wKen jthing of the kind." carnage had not. arrived. The first answered a strange, and second bell rang, and dinner was broken voice. "I am engaged you announced, but thB young mistress of cannotcomein." Bayneham was no^ & her accustomed

Deeply offended, the countess place. ,i walked naughtily away, and so Lady What can have delayed Hilda. Hilda destroyed her last chance. inquired Miss *arle, ^no^v. She

If Lady Bayneham had seen the went out early this afternoon, uitendchanged young face for only one min-

ute. die would have known that the brain was overtasked. But it was not so, and the young lady of Bayneham

carriage, but all conjectures were cut short by the appearance of Lord Bayneham, riding as one riding for his life.

CHAPTKH XXXlr ...

The Duke of Laleham found his young neighbor a very dull and weariBome companion. He could neither excite his interest nor elicit his attention. Every now and then he seemed to awake from a reverie and utter a few- irrelevant words. The ride to Oulston, the interview with the persons concerned—the whole business, in fact, was a complete failure, "I fear," Baid Lord Bayneham to his elderly friend, "that I have been a poor companion the fact is, and I should have explained it to your grace before. I am not myself to-day. I have some little unpleasant affair on hand, and it has teased and troubled me." "I began to think so," said the duke warmly. "Why did you not tell me? -This business can easily be deferred. I wish you had not stood upon caremony with me."

He would take no further excuse, but insisted upon Lord Bayneham's returning home at once. He was impatient to be there. During all that long, dreary ride, his wife's sweet, pale face had been before him—the sad eyes filled with tears.

He felt convinced there was some strange mistake, that, if only explaiped, would clear away all mystery. On the very face of it there was the impress of something bewildering. He asked his wife how she came to lose her bracelet,—with whom she had been

bracelet—witn WUOLU ouo urn*

asking, "Must she go? Go where?—

road, impatient to be with his wife again, impatient to clasp her once more in his arms, and drive the

ly. But Lord Bayneham calmed hun-

self before

seeing

knocked at the door. No one replied there was no sound within a profound, unbroken silence reigned over the sumptuous suite of rooms. He opened the door gently, thinking it probable that his wife slept, and went in but the fair young la

Yet as he stood looking upon the elegant disarray of the room, a cold, strange fear ciept into his heart and numbed it he could not have explained why or what—a presentiment of coming evil. A little watch, richly jeweled, lay ticking upon the table in the vases fragrant heliotropes—his wife'B favorite flower—gave out a rich perfume a volume she had been leading lay with its leaves still open, and everything bore the trace of her presence. But where was she?

Lord Bayneham hastily descended to the drawing room, where the ladies of the family generally eat. Barbara was there reading, but no golden head was raised at his entrance. "Where is Hilda?" he asked, ab-

not know," replied Miss Earle,

looking at her in some surprise. "I have not seen her since morning. Just then Lady Bayneham entered, with a cold, proud expression on her face, that her

Bon

knew well.

"Where is Hilda, mother?" he asked impatiently. "I thought she was with you." "Your wife does not honor me with her society." was the reply, most haughtily given. "I went this mornidg to her room, but was decidedly refused admission. I certainly shall not trouble her again." "But where is she?" again demanded the earl, secretly admiring his wife's spirit. "You had better summon her maid and inquire," replied the countess, indifferently "I know nothing of her."

Lord Bayneham quitted the room, equally angry at Barbara Earle's easy nonchalance and his mother's pride. "Where is your lady?" he inquired of Pauline, who began to flatter herself that the young lord liked talking to her. "My lady is out," she replied. "The carriage was ordered some hours since, and has not jet returned."

Lord Bayneham gave a Bigh of mingled relief and impatience. "Did she—did your lady say where she was going?" he inquired. "No," was the reply "my lady only said she was going for along drive. She looked very ill, my lord, and quite unfit to be out long." ......

Lord Bayneham stamped his foot impatiently. Why had he gone to Oulston? Why had he allowed anything or any one to come between him and his fair, gentle wife? He was ashamed to ask any more questions, or people would surely think him childish. Butjhe could not remain in the house he went out,and walked again, where he could see the high-road, and catch the first glimpse of the carriage. One hour passed, and there was no sign of the carriage. The evening began to set in, tha sun sank in the

Olden west, the dew fell upon the Jowers, and the birds "called all wanderers home to their nestsbut still Lord Bayneham paced the walk alone, until he heard the dressing bell ring. "She must be here aoon,n said the young husband to himself.

Amongst his wife's qualities, he had always admired the one of punctual!

QSl

went on to her fite. 'She wrote a few "Accidents we Mt so common, Bar, lines to her husband, and covered bara," said Lady ttiyneham if aaythem with passionate kisses she took thing of that kind had occurred we from her writing desk all the money woufd have heard of it before this, contained, never stopping to count it, Lady Hilda has been absent many but filling her pocketbook with notes hours I presume she nu met with and gold. Then she rang the bell. some of our friends or neighbors, who "Will you say I want the carriage, have persuaded her to return with Pauline?" she said to the maid, who gazed in surprise at her mistress. "Are you going out, mv lady asked the girl "you look cold." "I am going," said Lady Hilda, with a strange smile, "for a very long drive."

She dressed herself in silence, placing the letter she had written on her desk. She never once looked round the room where so many happy hours had been spent Long afterward her maid spoke of the strange, fixed, unearthly look on her lady's face as she quitted the house. "Where shall I drive, my lady?" asked the coachman. "To Oulston," she replied "go as usual to the Bayneham Arms, and wait."

And wait he did, until the long day ended, but no Lady Bayneham came again. Night catne on", chill and dark, but there was no sign of her. The man was uncertain how to act. She was punctuality itself, and the dinner hour at the castle was past. He did not like to return without her, but the hours sped on, and she did not appear. The landlord suggested that perhaps

He did not understand iu warn, bug i-uo r--alluded. He had completely forgotten her ladyship had returned in afrien auuueu. up Knt all i-nnifirt.ures were the conversation, that was ever in her mind. "Did you mean it?" she repeated, in a low voice. "I always mean every word I say, replied Lord Bayneham "and, Hilda, it has came to this——"

of pi

never remem

thought

ibered to have

Mln kept waiting, or to have aeen ber late. This comforted him. 8he knew the dinner-hour, and would not re1 main beyond it.

them. "She is too thoughtful aind considerate to have done such a thing," said Barbara, warmly, "knowing we should be anxious."

The countess eaw^ that her son sent plate after plate away untouched, and drank wine eagerly, as though wishing either to drown thought or acquire strength. The dinner passed in a most uncomfortable, state of silence, but no Lady Hilda returned. "I cannot bear this," Baid Lord Bayneham, rising hastily from biB chair. "Mother—Barbara, I am seriously alarmed. Pauline says my poor wife looked very ill when she left the house. Mother, "be pitiful she is young, and has no -mother. Barbara, what can we do?'

Both ladies rose and tried 4p calm him, for his wild words startTwrthem. "You bad better inquire if any one overheard what orders were given about the carriage," said the countess to her son. "Do pot he alarmed, Claude. Hilda is safe, I am sure. Bar bara, go to her room, She may left a note there for as."

Lord Bayneham wfent out and found the groom who usually helped the coachman, and he had heard all that passed.- The coachman asked where he should drive, and her ladyship re

plied to Oulston, arid he was to wait for her as usual at the Bayneham arms. Again Lord Bayneman felt relieved, perhaps, after all, she was only gone shopping, and had been detained there might be no. accident, nothing but forgetfulness of time. He resolved, however, to,ride over to Oulston at once. He returned to tell the countess of his intention she stood in the dining-room, holding a folded paper in her hand aid Barbara Earle. with a white wondering face, stood hear her. Lady Bayheham went up to her son he Baw that her face was full of strange emotion, and that she spoke in a low pained voice "Claude," she said/"come with me to my dressing room,.' Hush! not one word—the servants will hear you."

In silent wonder. Lord Bayneham followed the stately lady, and Barbara Earle went with them. His mother cloBed the door, and ioicked it she then held out to him the folded paper. "Barbara found thi^ on the floor of your wife's room," Bh% said centlv: "it

had "slipped from hef desk, and it is addressed to you." He took the letter from her in silence, and read it. They who watched him saw his face grow deadly white as he did so, and he staggered like a man who had received a sudden mortal blow. Through a ied, blinding mist, he read the words that burned themselves upon his heart, yet were all a mystery to him. „T "Claude," the letter began, "I shall not wait for you to send me from you.

me.

speaking in the lady walk,—and ane [oathing and contempt but it was not replied by passionate weeping, and fault

out from you nt0 utter coid and

Bor-

rowful, haunted, despairing look from her bright face. When Lord Bayneham reached the castle gates his horse was covered with foam, and the groom who came to attend him wondered why his master, usually so careful, had ridden so mad-

ail(j lie 8{j0uld

Jace that ever

greeted him with a smile was absent. "Ah!" he said to himself, "she better, then, and has gone to the draw ing-room. I am glad."

•t ,•.- -V .••V"

THE TESRE HAUTE EXPRESS, SUNDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 3,1884.

Lord Bayneham,' never dressed so

A L. A Mil An«k

You know all—you say you

I go now. know all. Ah, then, yeu must despise

You must look upon me with

fault

and what for He longed to be witn «You meant what you said, Claude, her. Thp memory of her sorrow smote him with pain. He had been brusque and unkind. her little secrets. truly: she was as pure as she was fair

husband, it was not my

suffer for the sins of others,

—7

and I must go. I cannot write my 1 farewell—there are no tears in my eyes,

Let her keep ^ave gazed upon you for the Barbara spoke xast time. In my heart there is a deep burning sorrow, like a sharp, piercing

even his own jealous thoughts tell pain: there is despair and deatn. You abashed before her sweet innocence.

were my

So ka urgod tia horse -alang the high-, tha ounehino ^trf-my go i. V- "r.Fa

Hf©, my \l0v9, my all you

LAUGH WHILE YOU

D°

Lord Bayneham$» face blanched at the thought

dark

ness, where I Bhall never see you more, never more! I may call you darling for this last time, and I lay a hundred kisses on the word as I write it. My darling, forgive me. Good-by.'

Lord Bayneham read the letter again and again, never understanding one of the sad, pitiful words in it. He realized

0ne'thing—she

was gone fromlhim,

see her "never more."

any member of bis A cry that Lady Bayneham never

family, almost smiling at the excite- fitmnn ment which had urged him on. He went direct to his wife's room and

forgot came from his white lips. Strong man though he was, the earl trembled like a child. "Read that, mother," he said, "and tell me wnat it means."

Word by word the countess read that Bad letter, her face growing white, as her son's had done. "What can it mean she said "what can be done? "I must find her!" cried Lord Bayneham. "Call all the servants, mother rouse the whole place—we must go after her."

Then his mother, going up to him, placed one arm lovingly around him. "Hush, Claude," she said. "Your wife has left you let us, however, save the honor of our house cost what it may, this secret must be kept. The Baynehams have never known disgrace let us keep their name untainted. What say you, Barbara? "You are right, aunt," she replied "for Hilda's own sake we must keep all knowledge of this from the world. Do not be angry with me, Claude but from this letter, which you evidently do not understand, I should imagine poor Hilda to have been seized with sudden insanity. No sane person ever wrote this. Have you any idea to what she alludes'/" "No more than yourself," said Lord Bayneham. "I had better tell you all, and perhaps you can help me. Hilda would not tell me how her bracelet came to be in the Lady'B Walk, and I discovered, quite accidentally, that she had been walking there with some one. I went to her and told her I knew all "Well," said Barbara, for he stopped abruptly,'what then?' "She cried out, passionately, 'Do you mean what you Baid Not understanding in the least what she meant, I replied that I always said exactly what I meant. She cried out again, 'Must I go?' Just then I wis fetched away for the duke, and have not seen her since." "It is the strongest thing I ever heard," said the countess. "I can only imagine the poor child to be insane. "Who was with her in the lady walk?", asked Miss Earle. "You do not know?" she continued "then-be-lieve me, Claude, she is neither insane nor anything else, but the victim of some myBtery. I am certain of it. If all the world blames her, I kMp my faith. But something must be done. "I will go to Oulston," said Lord

Bayneham and in less than ten minutes he was once more gallopihg along the high-road. [To be continued in the Sunday Escprttt.

On the Use or English.

Ths Academy. Lord Coleridge, speaking recently in America, said that every educated speaker of English uses at least three

When he talks

different languages. When he talks

he uses colloquial English when.he

Georgia's penitentiary now contains „,322 prisoners—the largest number ever recorded on the registry at one time. The large percentage of the criminals isjmade np of young negroes, among whom crime is on the increase.

Col. JBMS Edward Calhoun, who lives Just aeroaa theSavaoah river from Elbert, Ga.,is a brother-in-law of John C.GUhoun,

MAT.

Em la the Opportunity, and So Wot Ifegleot lt.

Fanny Stories Designed to Make Mankind 8ee the Bright Side of Lift —Why the Drammer New

Goes MI Crntehes.

Tbe light of day was breaking fast As o'er the city sidewalk passed A youth with hand on aching head, And as he staggered on he sata.

Some seltzer.

His eyes were red his lips Came pungent fumes of Which he hatf drunk pagnftt And wittrfrlpedCBr&e cried again.

.ween «ene rime (bam-

HODM sellKcr

In the sakMM.. Upon thehar He oped the'" And in a ba

./the.gltos I *5 etirald not pass and rushed within, £sV»lce cried. Gin

And seltzer.

Then in tbe morning cold and gray. With head relieved, be bied away And as he went with llnbered tongue The praises of the stuffhe song,

Some seltzer.-

WHY HE GOE8 OK CRCTCHKS,.

Ark ansaw Traveller id Mr. Jabed Gazely, travelling salesman for the well-known liquor house of Gumcane & Racket, now wears a pair of cratches, not for ornament, particularly, but mainly for use. Several days ago Gazely, while enroute for a rural seat of trade, fell in with a lot of young fellows, representing many trades and professions. They exchanged cards, flantra and compliments, old jokes and wearisome storieB. When Gazely arrived at the small town where he was to transact business, if possible, he have proceeded at once to tbe house whose wants in the whisky line he had ever supplied, but upon entering the store he saw that a change in proprietorship had taken place. The proprietor came forward. "Good morning, sir." "Good morning. I see that this place has changed ownership. I used to do considerable business with your predecessor and hope to merit your confidence." "Your name?"

Gazely handed him a card, not his own commercial pasteboard, but unfortunately the name and two-line advertisement of a young undertaker he had met on the train. The merchant looked at the card for a moment and said: "I am thankful to say, sir, that I need nothing in your line." "But you soon will, I hope," replied Gazely.

The merchant knithisbrow, dropped a stitoh, picked it up and proceeded to knit awhile longer. "I hope I may not soon need your services, sir. I don't know why you say that my predecessor ever had any dealings with you, for he is a young man

I know he's a young man," said Gazely, looking sharply at the merchant, "but what difference does that make He kept his cellar well^tocked with my goods, but that's neither here nor there. I've got the beBt in the market, and just now we are selling at strikingly low figures. You'll never have a chance to do better and I advise you to lay in a stock at once. Now, for your own individual use, I can do the nice thing by you." "Do you take me for a fool "Certainly not. I'm only advising you to buy in time. Such reasonable figures will not be open to you many days longer. I can fix you up nice style, so that when your friends and neighbors come in"

"^ou heartless scoundrel!" exclaimed the merchant, wheeling Gazely around and kicking him from the door. The fall injured the young man, hence the crutches. The mistake has been discovered and both parties, young Gazely in particular, are sorry that such a ludicrous misunderstanding should have occurred. ^5^

HOXKSTY THB BEST POI IC\

weiroit Free I*reo». "I wouldn't think of asking for help if I hadn't lost my arm in the war," he added, as he leaned against the wall and gazed into vacancy as if calling up an old battle scene. "I see," mused the pedestrian. vv as it an accident in a saw-mill or on some railroad? I always come down with a quarter for such accidents."

The other seems to struggle with his feelings for a moment before replying: "Well, it was in a saw-mill, if you must know, but I have been followed by hard luck. I lost my all by fire in Buffalo." "At what date, and on what street?

The chap scratched his ear and rubbed the chilblain on his heel, but couldn't say. "I am not in a hurry," quietly observed the pedestrian. "Take your time to think and give me all possible particulars." "See here," said the one-armed, "don't you believe my wife, jibbed and ran away?"

No, sir—no, sir! What could you have had of any value? And, indeed, how did you come by a wife?" "I asked you for a little assistance. "Certainly. Now please state your grounds?" "I want to get to Chicago. "Nonsense! You intend to stay right here! That's no excuse." "Well, I'm hungry. I havn't tasted food for two days. "Bosh! Let me feel of your pulse. The pulse indicates the condition of the stomach. Hold out your hand." •Say!" said the vag. In a desperate way, "maybe you don't believe I'm dead broke?" "Oh, yes, I do." "And that I'm most dead for a drink of whisky?" •'Ah! Here's 10 cents! go and buy your fluid I Next time you want anything toe the mark and speak the truth. You'll find a saloon around the corner."

JJO SENSE Of HUMOR. ,-

Philadelphia Call. $ 'fSVQs A gentleman in a street car, 'while reading a newspaper, discovered a paragraph that struck him as particularly funny. "Here is stffietliing good," said he to his neighbor, and he read the item to him. ,«&

A tired look swept over the gentlemac's face, but he never smiled. Presently the reader came across another paragraph that tickled his fancy. "I will try him with this one," he said.

He did so, and a tear actually welled out of his neighbor's eye and coursed slowly down his cheek.

Heavens, man!" was the exclama

tion, "wbats ou?

the matter with yot

Have you no sense of humor? What do you do to pass away the time, anyway

Looking mournfully out of the window the stranger replied: "I am a proof-reader on a comic weekly."

THE BOY WAS ALL BIGHT.

Detroit Free Press. A clothing dealer down on Jefferson avenue was dancing around the door his store, in a great rage, yesterday,

JUS giore, ID greai rage, yeoioiu«»/,

whenanacquaintance

writAR he 11 sen literarv English and tho «nu nf hta writes he Uses literary English and when he reads bis Bible he uses an antiquated form of English, which, from its relation to modern culture, mav almost be called sacred English. So,'within the one language there are at least three languages, blending with and overlapping each other, vet each independent of the other, having its own vocabulary, and its own rules of use.

halted and asked

him the cause of his excitement. "Vhy, dot new poy of mine sells a pn^n a hat for a dollar dot vhas marked twelve shillings!" "And vou lose fifty cents* "Feefty cents! I discharge dot poy so queek his head doan' haf time to shwiin!"

In the course of an hour the pedestrian was repassing the store, and seeing the

maT1

at the door with a

smile on his face, he asked: "Well, did yon discharge tbe boy "Dot poy vhas all right, sir. Vhen. I come» to inquire into it, I doani let him go if I haf to pay him roore wageB. He makes a mistake on price, bat when he git* back de change For a$10biJJhe •eta me rid of all my trade dollars and pieces mit holes in em!

A TEHKIBlJt K1CKSB.

Texas Sifting*. 1 "Please, sir," said the bell boy to Sa

-,r^^

Texaa hotel cleric, "No. 40 aaya there aint no towels in hia-room.M-r "Tell him to use one of the window curtains."

No, my son, yoa shouldn't jump at conclusions. The prima donna doesn't ride in a special car because nobody will ride in the same coach with her. It is because she prefers to ride that way—that's all."

Merchant Traveler: "Light is gradually breaking—me," remarked the man when he paid a gas bill twice as large as usual.

Men of intellect stand by their ideas: dissipated men fall by their rye dears, and men with extravagant wives are ruiued by their high dears.

TWO LOVERS AND A HUSBAND.

How a Pretty Hungarian Woman Beat a Passage to America. Newark Evening N~ews.

...

"He says, too, there aint no piller." "Tell him to put his coat and vest under his head." "And he wants a pitcher of water." "Suffering Cyras! But he's tbe worst kicker I ever struck in my life. Garry him up the horse pail." "He wants to know if he can have a light." "Here, confound him! Give him this lantern and ask him if he wants the earth, and if he'll have it fried on* only one side or turned over." -'-i

FIXECCT.

A Burlington mother lias miraculously cured her youngest hopeful of smoking by the laying on of hands.

One would reasonably suppose that it would be difficult to collect a bill from a leather merchant when he buys leather and hides. "Is you gwineto.getan overcoat this winter?" asked a darkey of a companion. "Well, I dunno how dat'a gwine to be," was the reply. "I'se done got my eye on a coat, but the fellah aat owns it keeps his eye on it too."

The man who was observed on State street thus morning with a three-cent stamp on his left ear, endeavoring to climb into a letter box and clamoring for them to "fesh on their postofiBces, cosh he was so drunk he couldn't go to them," is believed to hold the theory that the office should seek the man and not the maq thp effigy.— RochestefPoat'Express. ."Oh!" said the man who had traveled "I didn't mind having the delerium tremens. I saw snakes and alligators and things, but it merely seemed as though I was in Florida." "No." said the Chicago editor of his rival, "I don't think he was drunk when he wrote that editorial 'When a man's drunk he speaks the truth." "Is your wife acquainted with the dead languages?" asxed the professor of a Newman man. "Maybe she is,'* was the reply, "but the language she uses is entirely too warm to nave been dead very long."

Marie Mexsa was, two years ago, a peasant in a village in Hungary. Johan Maich and Johan* Stowan, two friends, were rivals for pretty Marie's affections. She. smiled on Maich and married him about a year ago, whereupon Stowan emigrated to America. Notlong after the young husband also decided to seek a home in the new world. Marie grew tired of grass widowhood and determined a few-months ago to come to America also. She had money enough to take her to Bremen. When she reached that port she made the acquaintance of Michel Hudok, a well-to-do Hungarian, who lives in Strador, 111., and had been on a visit to his relatives in the old country. Hudok was desperately smitten with Marie and "wanted to marry her at once. The wily Marie failed to tell him that she had a husband living, but said she would marry Hudok in New \orkif he would p»y her passagw- W«P,— dok joyfully bought tickets for himself and his charmer, and the pair landed at Castle Garden on Monday last from the German steamer Sailer.

Hudok reminded Marie of her promise to be his, but the lady coquettishly declored that he must send for her "brother," Johan Stowan, at Reno, Nev-., to witness the marriage ceremony. Stowan is the rejected lover who had emigrated. It appears that the false Mane had been in correspondence with him, and wanted to elude her other actual husband and return to her "old love. Hudok, suspecting nothing, telegraphed to the "brother" and agreed to wait his arrival. Meantime Maich, the real husband, had heard of his wife's arrival. He arrived at New York yesterday. There was an exceedingly lively scene at Castle Garden when the man and wife and Hudok met. The two men were greatly excited, but the woman laughed at them both. The matter was finally settled by Maich carrying off his wife, after refunding $27.70—her traveling expenses—to Hudok. The lover in Nevada has not been heard from^

The Porte and the Patriarch. Jonstontlnople Correspondence. The Greek patriarch Joachim III., has resigned.. You may be aware that the ancient theocratic regime still exists here, just as it did in the fifteenth century, when Mohammed II. took Constantinople. The conquerer, more anxious to conquer than to reform, in order to get rid of the government of the conquered people handed it over to their clergy, thinking in this way to pacify the people by leaving .their language, their religion, their customs, and their clergy. This, state of things, confirmed by numerous imperial decrees, underwent no modification.

The result is that in civil affairs it is to the Greek clergy, and not to the courts of the empire, that the Ottoman Greeks have to apply. Hence arise complications of all sorts, out of which a considerable profit is derived by the Greek clergy.

The sublime porte, having adopted a new code and established tribunals in the European fashion throughout the empire, lias decreed that in future the orthodox people in civil matters must be subject to the Ottoman courts juet the same as other subjects of the empire, especially in cases of divorce, alimony, and wills, and also that the orthodox may if they wish, be tried by the Turkish courts. It is remarkable that the Porto imposes nothing in this affair, but simply gives the right to choose. If the Greek prefers the justice of his priests, he can have recourse to it, and if he is not satisfied with it, he can appeal to the civil tribunals. The Porte simplv asserts its authority, making all its subjects equal before the law*

But the clergy don't give uj so easily their rescripts and their prerogatives. The synod and the lay national council met under the presidency of the Patriarch Joachim, and drew up a non potumm in due form, declaring tbat the administration of the church was impossible without the preservation of its temporal privileges— a sad admission, but not new. l'ius IX-

KCbUCi OKBtu 7 nation. Then there was weeping and wailing and smashing of teeth among

Kgas's

church, and that if waa appoint his successor. All this was followed by a ne# address to the porte, requentinft-it not to accept the resignation. But Joachim held fast and would* not revoke his decision. The porte bad nothing more to say, and so thf owttwrvftatbara,

A PROFESSION OF PLUMBERS.

Chuaip* and Tinkers Who Kuin the Trade of Ltgltimat* Artlatf. Chicago News. "Our profession in this city has become the object of all manner of coarse jokes," said a west side plumber to a Daily News reporter yesterday, as he stood among a wilderness of pipes, faucets, and tubs, and looked sadly into the frosty street "Why?" "It is all because the profession is full of chumps and tinkers who are unwor&y of the name of plumber. They are not fit to be shoe-makers or blacksmiths, much less plumbers. Why, sir, plumbing is the most skillful and artistic work to be done about a building. You'll not find an architect who knows the first principles o^ our business. These tinkers around town who have-set up in the procession for themselves used to be mere helpers at $7 and $8 a week. They found they could open up a shop for a few dollars, get the patronage of their acquaintances, and make a little moresay $10 or $12— and this is what ruins the legitimate and practical members of our association." "How did you happen to admit the tinkers to your association "Well, I'll tell you. They got their licenses some years ago, before the Master Plumbers' association had adopted a resolution to examine all

JWIUIIUU VV

skill is required in our profession.

ABOUT IjIZARDS.

How One Helped a Burglar—Another Deceived a Falcon The Poisonous Uzzard. New York 8uu.

"Mid

"Speaking abont lizards, naturalist, "I will tell you a story that will probably astonish you. The incident I am about to relate occurred in India and I won't undertake to describe the place or the people. The natives that I met there, however, were nearly all possessed with the belief that their chief mission in the world was to take possession of whatever they could lay their hands on. I was advised to keep things under lock and key, and so I did, but after a stay of a month I became rather careless, and having the second story of a stone house, felt pretty secure. One night after I had put .cut my light and sat down to smoke, as waB my custom, I heard a curious scratching noise under the window, and, looking out, perceived several figures below crouching in the darkness. I thought nothing of it, though, as there was no way tor thieves to get in, and returned to my chair. But in a moment I heard the same scratching noise, as if someone were rasping the stone with a sharp instrument. For about ten minutes this continued. Every once in awhile the noise ceased, and there was a thud as if some one had fallen. In the meantime, the moon, which had been under a cloud, came out, and hearing fche noise nearer the window than ever, I leaned over and looked down through the lattice again. 1 saw three men. One was stooping down, find another upon his back was reaching up the wall. Soon, in some "mysterious manner, the man moved directly upward. On he came with the cOTiOUS~SCTapiflg sound: .Then there was a slip, and the man fell, and was caught by hiB companions. 1 had a heavy club in the room, and, taking it, 1 moved my seat over by the window, and lay low, wondering what sort of a machine they had that enabled theln to go up a straight wall. In about twenty minutes after several more slips and much scraping, 1 saw a black object moving up over the sill, but it was not the head of a man. A second later, however, a human hand grasped the window, and I brought the club down upon it and the black object with all the power I could muster. With a yell the would-be thief went tumbling down the twenty feet or more of wall, and I soon heard footsteps going down the road on a dead run immediately ran down, calling my man as 1 went, expecting to find a rope or cord of some kind, but there was nothing of the sort, and I gave it up as a mysterv. Stepping back to go in I stumbled over something, and, looking down, I found it was a large lizard, stone dead. Its skull was broken.

What do you suppose my man told me, and which I found out later was true? Nothing less than that I had killed the lizard by my blow at the thief, and that the animal hauled him up the side of the house. These lizards are very powerful, and have long, sharp claws. When grasped by the tail and placed againBt a wall, tip they will go with a force quite sufficient to pull up a small man after them. It was the scratched of the animal's claws that 1 had heard. I guess this is about as -novel a method of housebreaking as theVe is on record. I understood, however, that it was not an uncommon thing. "India," the naturalist continued, "is the best country in the ivorld for lizzards. They are everywhere among the leaves and flowers, minicing them in color, while others that live among the rocks have dull colors, equally protective. The most remarkable case of protective resemblance, however, is seen in a lizzard called the leaf tailed gecko. The body, which is about six inches long, is covered with rough protuberance, while the tail is arrowshaped and exact in its resemblance to a leaf. Its eyes have a stony glai r, that is supposed by the native to be fatal at times. The leaf-like tail is nearly as large as the body. \V hen alarmed you will see gecko s'tart around the limb upon which it has been resting, and, instead of concealing raise ite tail aloft, its body being hidden, of course, by the limb. In this position the imitation of a growing leaf upon the branch is perfect and il the movement of the animal in slipping around the limb has not been noticed, its escape is certain, even experts being deceived by it. "This lizard has another production still more remarkable. A friend of mine told me he was once lying among some rocks at midday, resting after a morning's shoot, when his attention

morning's shoot, wnen m» aneuuu..

aiso"declared that without the tempo- other, and finally flew away. My rtl poWhe could not direct the friend finally secured the re.namii.* Catholic church. No attention was gecko, which turned out to be mereJ paid to him, and his successor governs I a leaf-like tail. Tlie animal, none the less successfully.

s|a leaf-like tail. The animal, nnainy

itself closely pressed, had thrown ofl

The decision of the Synod was for warded to a nd ignored. 1 up u'ia«ir imw —.

its tail, which h»d jumped and danwd

l/1fr 0

by a vigorous twist they can off. "There are over sizty different van« ties of geckos, and all of them noted for some peculiarity Mfl them have their feet supplied pads or sucking disks, so that thei able to run up walls like flies.,: species has the power to throw' brilliant phosphorescent light 1 it is nocturnal inits habits it is torch bearer. To see four or fiv^ ing about the walls of a dark their uncanny forms outlined in •is a curious spectacle, to say the lfl One kept by a gentleman in Bon

Blab# of X-

new appU^ts for license as^testbe eggs "5?-the cftcodile. Though i. powerful. for America to produce the

with now. We have a standing com uiittee consisting of Messrs. Edward E. Baggott, J. J. Wade, and Ihomas 13«yd, before which each individual aspiring to the dignity of a rigid examination. Yes, it's a fact you'll see contracts let out to tinkers and chumps because their bids are a few hundred dollars less than those of the legitimate plumbers. This is because neither architects nor builders know

gave out light enough at times to by. They are also worn by native dian women as head dresses. "The lizards that live about water," continued the naturalist, "«r the largest and most powerfm 'onli one truly marine lizard is-known, the Omblyrhnchus. It is found in the Gallipagos islands. They are seen there in droves swimming out to sea, and feeding on the beds of seaweed. They can remain under water without harm for an hour. "In the Nile country there is a monitor lizard that attains a length of nearly seven feet, and is proportionately powerful. According to De Latour, a careful observer, they are flesh eaters, going together in bands and attacking large animals. One has been seen to swim out and attack a deer, pulling it under water and killing it. The one known as the waran is pictured on many of the ancient worked slabs of Eg«r It fPsaitl to^devour the eggs or -il these lizards it remains only poisonous one—hetoderma—of the west and south. Its teeth are provided with grooves for the poison to pass from the gland. To human beings its bite is not fatal if help is at hand, but a chicken biten by one died in five minutes, and one of the attend- ... ants in the Smithsonian institution? once allowed himself to be bitten by a WDRt a1a/1

A urn a km/1 (MKM «a1 .. .VI. L~. »11 Ji...

VMVV "WIWHWM uuuiKiii

«v

WW UlbdQU

a v,,.-

hetoderma and was barely able to call for assistance. In the south perhaps their bite is fatal." p*

A MEXICAN'S SUICIDE.

The Tragic End of

Paris (January 8tb) Correspondence Philadelpbla Times.

Only three days ago a suicide occurred" which has greatly excited the cosmopolitan circles of Paris society. The victim is Don Antonio de Arasis Salaza, a Mexican gentleman, who, when he arrived in Paris five months ago, brought with him the reputa-f' 4 tion of being the owner of manyj? millions, of vast estates, andi? of a pearl fishery in Southern* California. Don Antonio hired a fur-^ nished mansion in the Cours-la-Reine, Champs Elysees, and at once launched:* forth into a wild career of dissipation, s..J His steps in the demi-monde guided by a pretty actress talent who plays at the Gymnase ter, but as she could with him he made other acquaintances,. women of free and easy morals, who took care to make him pay royally fori their favors. Curious to enjoy all kindsF of caresses he made engagements which cost him large sumB. If he hap-k pened to take a fancy to some "Queen of the demi monde" whom he saw in" the Bois de Boulogne, he spared^" neither pains nor expense to induce: her to partake of his hospitality. Inv this way he has paid $2,000 for favors^ which other men would have secured for $500. One evening he went to see' an operetta in which a famous woman was singing the leading role a notion1 entered his head in five daya he had* gained his point. This little incident cost him $0,000.

On one occasion he bought a trotting horse which had a hard mouther and the bad habit of taking the bit be* tween its teeth. The Mexican laid a wager with a rich Russian that he. could drrve this animal from the Arch t„

Ji 4 a ill Dm 1 rtlfl I? A«M I 1M .*•».

de Triomphe to the Palais Royal in a certain number of minutes. He got down the Champs Elysses and through the Place de la Concorde all right, but in the Rue de Rivoli he found himself in trouble. A big omnibus took ofl$ two wheels and smashed hisif fine carriage to pieces. Thei, horses ran away and dashed into11 a pastry shop, breaking ail the frontr.* windows ana doing great damage to the £pple tarts, brioches and creamy cakes, to say nothing of so badly scaling an English maiden lady who was lunching there that she was sick a-bed for three weeks afterward. A horse in* another carriage ran on to the sidewalk,? upBet a baby's carriage and broke th» nurse's leg. Our Mexican friend hadi his shoulder dislocated, and it was two?, weeks before he was out of his house.» The big 'bus was uninjured, but ther entire affair cost Antonio about $15,1 ooo!

He had other ways of getting rid of his money, notably in the clubs where gambling go on. But paying at bacca-t rat and ecarte were too slow fun Ion him !the excitement be liked was OPanother kind. He didn't mind losing, his money but he wanted some sport for it. One day last week, after riding on horseback in the Bois de Boulogue with the actress of the Gymnase, he remorked that he would not be able to breakfast with her, as he was going to Verneuil-sur-Marne, She tried to get him to tell ber why he was going into this country, but he smiled and replied that she would know very soon, and that it would be a surprise to her. The. actress at once made up her mind that he was going to buy a country house for her, and asked no further questions. When two days passed away and Don Antonio had not reappeared, the actress became alarmed and went to the police headquarters to ask if they knew anything about the missing man. While conversing with the chief of police a telegram arrived announcing that on the preceding evening the Mexican had been found dead in a piece of woodlands at erneuil. As a hottle of strvchnine was in his hands, and in his pockets were a large sum in notes, some gold pieces and his watch and jewelery untouched, there could be no doubt as to how he had come to bis death. He left nothing that could indicate the reasons for his act his fortune was so large that, in spite of his prodigalities, it is still practically uniuipared. and his mistress declares that they had no quarrel, and she had given him no cause to be jealous. Now eveiy one is wondering what

him to thus put an end to a lite whichhe seemed to enjoy 90 well.

was attracted by a small bird, evident- other day and slapped by the mayor, 1 'l 1 I alnnir I 1 t..! _i amah

ly a falcon, following something along toward him among the rocks. He remained perfectly quiet, and the bird approached, rising and fal'ing, until suddenly a gecko darted into the clear place before bim, and like a flash the falcon darted at it. But at the same instant the lizard began Jto change into two one remaining and dancing up and down while the other darted oil among the rocks, and disappeared. The bird seemed utterly confused, gazing first one way and then the

up and down, attracting the enemy a *, ,nu8t expect to be kept on the

the same power." Heraldry lr» London. "Suppose," said the reporter.

ljiXyonobtnt-a

the sever-

•1 vertebral segments are so loosely connected, and the axis of the verteis so work, that the tail will break |bra

(Fv »i wii nut wa Jirr

upon the aHgbteat movement, so that way.J

Reckless Career in

the Fastest World of Paris.

|.,t•bewere,thea-someofalwaysnot

-VS

,"4

could

have lea

Ncwi

Conducts a Spirited paper. Editor Anthony, of Leavenworth, Kan., who was met- on the street the

tt s»Q IAA1* HA ilftfl

has had a boisterous caieer. He has killed one man, has been severely shot himself and has distinguished himself in numerous street fights, all growing out of the conduct of his newspaper. When he was treated with indignity the other day he was suflering from physical damages incurred in a runaway and smash-up. Col. Anthony is. a brother of the mildmannered, persuasive but determmea missionary, Susan B. Anthony. It he bad lived in, some quiet, °1rde(r,£Tiic'0™" mimitv instead of a town he would have doubtless led a but in Kansas journal*

but in Kansas

for somethtng, and

ducte a

spirited newspaper out

Truth.

abSuUhe tail then"me TheabeurdiUes of heraldry are curi"A new tail grows after awhile, was ously exemplified by a hatchment now the reply, "««d. curiwMly enmiB seen in Queen street, Mayfair. .* the hresfcin? oft 10 not 80IW6* I times two tails appear to take the place I Instead of being placed upright it lies of one. If you examine the lizard you] on itaside, so that the widow's wi will gee that the muscles

v... ...v. white grounded half js on the top of her de-, funct husband's coat, and as s.ve bore, a red lion that creature is kicking his. heels in (he air in tbe most wonaerfqj