Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 August 1885 — Page 5

ing and Madel confidential fri -.whom she cou.

MY SWEETHEART. •i consternation, {blush

I'm in lore witlx a fair little maiden With her eyes, with her lips, with her hands, With her dozens of dear little dimples

And although she's petite On her sweet little feet, Tis a wonder to me how she stands. ..

And she loves me, this dear little maiden And her hands, and her eyes, and her lips, And her dimples all giving me welcome—

In a sweet, artless way Have their say, every day,

to meet me she lovingly trips.

"Will she wed me,'thin sweet little maiden Bless yon, no! That she never will do. But, when I have told you the reason,

I haven't a fear 'T will appear to yon qneer For I'm thirty—while she's only two! —[Allen G. Bigelow, in St. Nicholas for September.

O N

A LOVE STORY.

By MRS. OLIPHANT.

CHAPTER XXII.

Fred Huntley was a man of considerable ingenuity as well as coolness of intellect and it was impossible that hfe could remain long unconscious of what he was doing, or take any but the first steps in any path without a clear perception of whither it led. Accordingly, before he had reached this point be had become fully aware of the situation, and had contemplated it from every possible point of view. No feeling of treachery to John weighed upon him when he thought it fully over. He had not been confided in by Kate's accepted lover, not appealed to, nor put upon his honor in the matter and John was not even a very intimate friend that he should give in to him nor did it occui to him to stifle the dawning love in his own heart, and withdraw from the field, even for Kate's sake, to leave her tranquil to the enjoyment of her first love. 'Such an idea was not in Fred's way. To secure his own will and his own happiness was naturally the first thing in his estimation, and he had no compunctions about his iival. There seemed to him

possible reason why he

should sacrifice himself and leave the £eld clear to John. And then there were so many aspects in which to consider the matter, It would be much better for her, Fred felt, to marry himself. He could make appropriate settlements upon her he could maintain her in that position to which she had been accustomed he could give her everything that a rich man's, .daughter or rich man's wife could desire. ".His blood, perhaps, might not be so good aw John Mitford's blood, if you entered into so fine a question but he was Jieir to his father's money, if not to much that was more ethereal. And

money

tells with every

body, Fred thought it would tell with Kate, though perhaps she did not think so. Of all people in the world was not *hethe

last

love

who could consent to come

(down from her luxurious state, and be tthe wife of a poor man, with next to no servants, no horses, no carriage, and nothing but love to make up to her for a thousand wants? Fred Huntley was in

himself, and indeed it was love that was the origin of all these deliberations and yet he scoffed at love as a compensation. By dint of reasoning, he even got Tiimaolf to believe that it was an unprincipled thing on John's part to seek her :at all, and that any man would •do a good deed who should deliver Iber from his hands. He had reached to this point by the next evening after the one whose events we have just recorded. Kate had not ridden out that day she had been little visible to any one, and Fred had not more than a disitant glimpse of her at the breakfast table •.and in the twilight over the tea, which walled together Nost of the party. Mad«9£ne ''Winton \gone away that mornyas Kate's gossip, her the only one with relieve her soul. She was somewhat .o'w-spirited in the evening. Fred looked on, and saw her laii^uid treatment of everything, and t?xe snubs she administered would-be consolers. He

to severs kept apart wuvb conscious skill, and yet, when he happened to b® thrown absolutely in her way, very full of attention and care for her c^mf°rt* He placed her seat just as he thought she liked it, arranged her footstool for her with the most anxious devotion, and jvas just retiring behind her chair when she stopped him, struck by his melancholy looks. "Are you ill, Mr. Huntley she said, with something like solicitude and Fred shook his head, fixing his eyes on her

f*"No,"

drew a little apart, and looked upon her with a certain pathos in his eyes. "There is something the matter with you," cried Kate. "Well, perhaps there is and I should have said there was something the matter with you, Miss Crediton, which is of a great deal more importance." "Mine is easily explained," said Kate I have lost my friend. I am always low when Madeline goes away. We have always been such friends since we were babies. There is nobody in the world I am so intimate with. And it is so nice to have some one you can talk to and say •everything that comes into your head. I am always out of spirits when she goes

-r 1

"If the post is vacant, I wish I might ••apply for it," Fred said, with exaggerated !humility. "I think I should make ad •excellent confidant Discreet and patient «nd ready to sympathize, and not at all given to offering impertinefat advice." "Ah, you 1" cried Kate, with a sudden glance up at him. And then she laughed, notwithstanding her depress:*! condition. "I wonder what Lady Winton would say?" she added merrily, but the next moment grew very red and felt confused under his eye for what if he should try to find out what

Lady

Winton

hadsaid?—which, of course, he immediately attempted to do. "Lady Win ton is a great friend of mine. SShe would never give her vote against me," said Fred, cunniagly disarming his adversary.

Upon which Kate indulged herself in anotner mischievous laugh. Did he' but know! "She is not like you," said the girl in her temerity "she is rather fond of giving advice." "Yes, said Fred,-growing bold. "That was what she was doing last night Would you like me to tell you wnat it was

iboutT' "What was it about?" cried Kate, in

Here was a situation! To have a man speaking to you in your own drawingroom in full sight of a score of people, and as good as telling you what men tell in all sorts of covert and secret places, with faltering voice and beating heart Fted was perfectly steady and still his voice was a trifle graver than usual perhaps it might have been called sad his eyes were fixed upon her with a serious, anxious look there was no "air of jest, no levity, but an aspect of fact which terrified and startled her. Kate fairly broke down under this strange and unexpected test. She gave a frightened glance at Tiini and put up her hand to hide her face. Wnat was she to say "Please} Mr.tHunlley," she faltered, "this is not the kind of subject to make jokes about" "Do I look like a man who is joking?" he asked. "I do not complain I have not a word to say. I suppose I have brought it upon myself, buying the delight of your society at any price I could get it for—even the dearest And you talk to me about another man as if I were made of stone—a man who—" "Stop, please," she said, faintly. "I may have been wrong. I never thought —but please don't say anything of him, whatever you may say to me." "You ate more afraid of ft word breathed against him than of breaking my heart," said Fred, with some real emotion and Kate sat sCill, thunderstruck, taking shelter behind her fan, feeling that everyone was looking at hen and that her very ears were burning and tingling. Was he making love to her she asked herself. Had he any intention of contesting John's supremacy? or was it a mere remonstrance, & complaint that meant nothing} an outcry of wounded pride, and nothing more? 'Mr. Huutley," she said, softly, "if I have given you any pain, I am very sorry. I never meant ft You were so Kirn

ry. id, I did not think I was doing wrong, Please forgive me if there is any harm done it is not with my will." "Do you think that mends matters?" said Fred, with a little indignation mingling in his sadness. "If you put it into plain English, this is what it means: I was something so insignificant to you, taken up as you were with your own love, that it never occurred to you that I might suffer. You never thought of me at all. If you 1 ad said you had meant it, and had lake*tfie trouble to make me miserable, that^uSd have been a little better at least it would not have been contempt."

And he turned away from her and sat down at a little table near, and covered his face with his hand. What would everybody think? was Kate's first thought he mean to hold her up to public notice, to demonstrate that she had used him badly? She bore it

for

iiuauvu. with ft violent sadden I ought to know better, bat she is tov bat of course it mast be nonsence. listht-hearted and fond of being amused." she represented to herself, looking at him "I don't think I have been very ainusing to-night," said Fred. "Thanks,

with "a certain anxiety^ "You never could guess, Mr. Huntley it was something quite between ourselves." "That is very possible," be said, so gravely that her feats were quite silenced and he added in another moment, "but I knew

very

well what it was. It was. about

me." "About you!" "I haye known Lady Winton a many years," said

Fred

steadily.

'*1

derstand her ways. When she comes and takes a man's place and sends off for something she has left behind on purpose, he must be dull indeed if he does not know wbat die means. She was talking to you of me." "It was not 1 that said so cried'Kate, who was in a great turmoil, combined of fright, confusion and amusement. It would be such fun to hear what guesses he would make, and he was so sure not to find it out! "When you assert such a thing you must prove it," she said,_ her eyes dancing with fan ana rash delight, and yet with a secret terror in them, too. "She was warning yop," said Fred, with a long-drawn breath, in which there was some real and a good deal of counterfeit excitement, "not to trifle with me. She was telling you, that though I did not show many signs of feeling, I was still a man like other men, and had & hsftri*1"" 'Fancy Lady Winton saying all that," cried Kate, with* a tremulous laugh of agitation. "What a lively imagination you have—and about you!" "But she might have said it with great justice," said Fred, very gravely and steadily, "and about me."

a moment or two in her bewilderment, and then stretched across and touched him lightly with her fan. "Mr. Huntley, there are a great many people in the room," she said. "If we were alone you might reproach me but surely we need not let these people know—and papa! Mr. Huntley, you know ve*y well it was not contempt. Wont you forgive me—when I ask your pardon with all my heart?" "Forgive you!" cried Fred and he raised his head and turned to her, though he did not raise his eyes. "You can not think it is forgiveness that is wantedthat is mockery." "Please don't say so! I would not mock you for all the world. Oh, ,Mr. Huntley, if it is not forgiveness, whatns it?" cried Kate.

And then he looked at her with eves full of reproach, and a certain appeal—: while she met his look with incipient

tears,

with her child's gaze of wonder, and sorrow, and eloquent deprecation. "Please forgive me!" she said, in a whisper. She even advanced her hand to him by instinct, with a shy half-conscious movement, stopping short out of regard for the many pairs of eyes in the room,

not

he said, "I am not ill and then

for any other cause. "I am so very, very sorry," she said, and the water shone in her blue eyes like dew on flowers. Fred, though he was not yet emotional. deeolv moved than he had was more deeply moved yet been. Throughout all this strange interview, though he everv word he said, he had yet been more or less playing a part But now her ingenuous look overcame him. Something of the imbecility of tenderness came into his eyes. He made a little clutch at the finger-tips which had been held out to him and would have kissed them before everybody, had not Kate given mm a warning look, and blushed, and quickly drawn the half-offered hand awav. She would not have drawn it away had they been alone. Would she have heard him more patiently, given him a still kinder response Fred could not tell, buj yet he felt that his fn-fct effort had not been made in vain.

It was Mr. Crediton himself who interHe came up to

rupted this tete-a-tete. them with a look which might have mere curiosity, and might have been displeasure. "Kate," he said gravely, "it seems to me you are neglecting your guests. Instead of staying in this favorite corner of youre, suppose you go and look after these young ladies a little. Mr. Huntley will excuse you, I am sure." "I am so

lazy/i

am out of spirits, and

so is Mr. Huntley we have been condoling with each other," said Kate but she got up as she spoke, with her usual -sweet alacrity, not sorry, if truth were told, to escape. "Keep my seat for me, papa, till I come back," she said, with her soft, little laugh,

Mr.

W^*My

Crediton did

as he was told—he placed himself in'her chair, and turned round to Fred and looked at him. While she tripped away to the other girls to resume her interrupted duties her father and her new lover

confronted

each other, and cau

tiously investigated what the new danger

dear Huntley," said the elder

man "I am sure your meaning is the most friendly in the world "but my daughter is very young, and she isi engaged to be married and, on the whole, I think it would be better that you did not appropriate her so much. Kate

SET,

for your frankness bat I am going away to-morrow, and I may chum little indulgence, perhaps, for my last night." "Going away to-morrow I" mid Mr. Crediton, with surprise. "Yes, Ilhave no choice. Shall I say it is sudden business—a telegram from Oxford—a gammons home? or shall I tell yon the real reason, Mr. Crediton? cried Fred, with emotion. "You have always been very good to me."

Mr. Crediton was startled, notwithstanding his habitaal composure. He looked keenly at the young man, and saw what few people had ever seen—the signs of strong and highly-wrought feelings in Fred Huntley's face aild the sight was a great surprise to him. He had thought the two had been amusing themselves with a flirtation, a thing he did not ap-

prove of but this must surely have gone bevonda flirtation. "If you have anything to say to me, come to the library after they had gone to bed," he said. Fred answered by a nod of assent, and the two separated without another word. Nor did Kate see the new claimant to her regard any more that night He had disappeared when she had time to look around her, and recall the agitating Interview which had broken the monotony of the evening. It came to her mind when she was talking, returning again and again amid ftp nothings of ordinary conversation. How strange it all was, how exciting! what a curious episode in the tedious evening! And what did he,- what could he, mean! And what would John think? And was it possible that Fred Huntley could feel like that—Fred, that man of the world? She was confused, bewildered, flattered, pleased, and sorry. It was a new sensation, and thrilled her through and through when she was rather in want of something to rouse her up a little. And she was so sorry for him! She almost hoped he would spring*up from some corner and be chidden and comforted, and made more miserable by the soft look of compassion she would give him—the "pardon mel" which she meant to say: but Fred made no

further

nteht-

appearance,

and the Pardon me! was npt said that

CHAPTER XXIII.

It puzzled Kate very much next morning to find that Huntley had not reappeared. It was not in the nature of things that she could avoid thinking about him. and wondering over and over again what he could mean—whether he was mystifying her—but that was impossible or if it was really, actually true And the fact was that she went up stairs a little earlier than usual, with a great curiosity in her mind as to how Fred would look, and whether she should see any traces in his face of last night's agitation. When she had taken this trouble, it may be supposed that it was hard upon her to find Fred absent but she "did not like"—a new expression

Kate's vocabularly—to ask what had become of him. She caught herself looking at the door anxiously every time it opened, but he .did not come. Some one at last relieved her anxiety by asking the point-blank question, "What has become of Huntley? has he gone away?" It was an idea which had never occurred to Kate. She looked up in blank dismay at the suggestion, and met her father's eye fully fixed upon her, and trembled, and felt that in two minutes more she must cry— not for Fred, but because he was decidedly an exciting new plaything, and-, had gone away. "Yes, he has gone away," said Mr. Crediton, "this morning, before some of us were out of bed. I have his farewells to make. He did not know it would be necessary for him to go when he left us last night" "I hope there is nothing the matter at Westbrook," said one of Fred's intimates but

Kate did not say a word. The room, swam round her for one moment. Gone away! Was it so serious as that, then? The

self-possessed

she

Fred, had matters been

so grave with him that flight was his only refuge? She was so startled that she did not know what to think. She was sorrv and surprised, and fluttered, and excited, all in a breath. She did not pay any attention to the conversation for Bome minutes, though she was sufficiently mistress of herself to take the usual part in it, and to go on dispensing cupiB of tea. Gone away! It was very fine, very honorable, very provoking of him. She had meant to bnng him down to his level very kindly and very skillfully, and cure him of all hopes while still she kept him bound in a certain friendly chain. And now he had cut it all short, and taken the matter into his own hands. It can not be denied that Kate was a little vexed at the moment No doubt, if

had been left alone she would have got over it in the course of t\e day, and recovered her composure, and thought no more of Fred Huntley than she had dons two days agJ but she was not destined to be left to herself. The first thing that happened was that Mr. Crediton remained in the breakfast worn till everybody was gone, and called her toliim. The most indulgent of fathers was looking somewhat stern, which was a thing of itself which utterly puzzled as well as dismayed the girl whom he had scarcely ever thwarted in the whole course of her life. "Kate," he said, "you took no notice when I said Fred Huntley had gone away —so I suppose he told you why it was?" "He never said a word to me' of going away,-papa," faltered Kate. "But you know the cause, ana I hoi it will be a warning to you?" said Credition. "I have seen this going on for some days, and I meant to have spoken to you. A girl in your position has no right to distinguish ft man as you did poor Fred." "But, dear papa," cried Kate, feeling very penitent, yet very much flattered as if somebody had paid her a very nice compliment, she said afterward—"yon cannot think it was my fault: I only talked to him like the rest. If I talked to bim a little more, it was about—Mr.

Mitfprd. And he knew all the time. How was to suppose it could come to any harm?" "Don't let me hear of any other man being taken in by your confounded confidence—about Mr. Mitford," said her father, with an amount of rudeness and contemptuous impatience such as perhaps has never been shown to Kate before in all her life. "Papa!" she cried, indignant, drawing herself up but Mr. Crediton only said

"Papa

lerselt up "Pshaw1" and went off and left her standing by herself, not knowing whether to

cry

or to be angry, in the great empty room. He was wroth, and he was 'disposed rather to heighten than to subdue the expression of it He wanted her to feel the full weight of his displeasure, rather a little more than less. For Fret Huntley would have suited him well enough for a son-in-law, if it was necessary to have such an article. He had distinguished himself already, and was likely still more to distinguish himself. He was thoaghtof by the borough authorities as the new member for Camelford. He was very well off, and could do nothing that was right and meet in tbe way of providin for his bride. He was in her own sphere. "Conlound that Mitford!" Mr. xm,

iS&g?

Crediton said to himself as he left daughter. It was bad enough to content s_i— his

favorite Skye terrier on his way, as angry men are apt to do. "As if it was poor Muffy that had done it I" Kate said, with the tears springing to her eyes. .When she was thus left, she called her injured

ufly?1

what had you to do with it? If ft man chooses to be silly, are we to be kicked for it, Muffy mio Papa is a great bear, and everybody is as unkind as they can be and oh, I am so sorry about poor Fred I"

She got over her crying, however, and her regrets, and made herself very agreeable to a great many people for the rest of the day, and petted Mufly very much, and took no notice of her father, who,, poor man, had compunctions but by the time that evening arrived, Kate began to feel that the less of Fred was a very serious loss indeed. He had timed his departure very cleverly. If Madeline Winton had still been there it might have been bearable, for she would have had some one to open her heart to, notwithstanding that even to Madeline she had not been able to speak of John as she had indulged herself in doing to her "friend"—John's friend somehow that was not the title which die now thought of giving to Fred Huntley He had suddenly sprung? into individuality, and held a distinct place of his own in her mind. Poor Fred! could it be possible t&at he was so fond- of her —he who was not at all a tragical sort of personage, or one likely to do anything very much out of the way for Jove? What could he find in her to be fond of? Kate said to herself. He was not like John, who was ignorant of society. Fred Huntjpy had seen heaps of other girls who were very pretty and very nice and why was it that he had set its affections upon herself, Kate, whom he_ could not have? It seemed such a pity, such a waste of effort. "Madeline might have had him, perhaps," she said to herself, reflecting pensively in her

easy

chair with

her fan at her lips to conceal their movement. Madeline as yet had no lever, and she was vory nice and rather pretty, too. And it would have_ been perfectly suitable, "instead of coming to make a fuss over me and he can't have me," with a sigh of suffering benevolence. It was hard that he could not have her when he wanted her so very much. It was hard that everybody should not have everything they wanted. And it was odd, yet not unpleasant, that he should thus insist upon throwing away his love upon herself, who coul£ not accept it, instead of giving it to Madeline, who might have accepted. IJow perverse the world was!

Thus Kate reflected as she sat and mused the evening after he had gone. She was heartily sorry to cross Fred, and felt the most affectionate sympathy for him, poor fellow! It was so nice of him to be fond of her, though she could not give him any return. And if he had staged and talked it over, instead of running away, Kate thought of a hundred things she could have said to him, as to the unreasonableness of falling in love with herself, an I the good sense of transferring his love to Madeline. Somehow she did not quite expect he would have taken her advice but still, no doubt, she would have set it before him in a very clear light, and got him to hear reason. And then he was very pleasant to talk to, and. more amusing than anybody else at Fernwood. This feeling had never crept over her in respect to John. When he went away, she was sorry because he left her half in- displeasure, and "had not enjoyed himself but she could not persuade herself that she had missed his company, missed, a hundred things he would have said to her, as she did now. She was in reality almost relieved to be quit of the passionate

eyes which followed her everywhere, and the demand which he made on her for her society, for her very .inmost self. But Fred made no Buch claims. Fred took what he oould get, and was happy in it He spared her trouble, and watched to see what her wants were and was always ready to talk to her or to leave her alone, sua her mood varied. Poor Fred! she sighed,* feeling very, very sorry for him with a half tenderness of pity which young women accord only to those who are their personal !ctims. Perhaps she exaggerated his sufferings, as it was natural to do. She sat end mused over him all that evening with her fan half concealing her face. "My dear. I am afraid you have a headache, one of^the elder ladies said to her and Kate acquiesced with a faint little smile. "It is the weather," she said, softly and the old lady, taking her cue, sat down beiide her, and discussed the same. "The changes are the worst," she said—"the thermometer at sfoty one day, and next day below the freezing point. And then, in an English house, it is so difficult to keep cold out" "I hope your room is warm," Kate said suddenly, remembering her hostessship. "Yeu must tell me if you find it hilly. There is such a difference in some of the rooms!" "It is according to their aspect," said the old lady "mine is very comfortable, assuir you. It is you young ones that expose yourselves to so many chs were you I would wrap up very warm, and keep in doors for a day or two. There is nothing like keeping in an equable teniperature. I have no.confidence in thin,

anyt "Thanks," Kate said, with a feeling of dreariness. Instead of Fred's conversation, this was a poor exchange. And she grew more and more sorry for him, and more and more compassionate of herself, as the evening stole on. Several of the people who interested her most had left within the last few days. There was but the moderate average of country-house visstorsleft: people* who are not remarkable for anything—neither witty, nor pretty, nor particularly entertaining and yet not to be complained of in any way. She did her duty to them as became Mr. Crediton's daughter, and was very solicitous to know that they were comfortable but she missed Madeline, she missed Lady Winton, die missed her acrid old godfather, who was said to be fond of nobody but Kate and, above all, she issed Fred Huntley—poor Fred!

A week had passed, somewhat weakening this impression, when Fred returned, quite as suddenly as he went away. He was seen walking up the avenue when the party were at luncheon, and Kate's heart gave a little jump at the sight of him. "Why, there is Huntley come back again 1" some one cried, but* he did not make his appearance at lunch, and_ it was only when he came into the drawing room before dinner that Kate had any opportunity of seeing what change had been wrought innim by the discovery of his sentiments toward herself. Fred was playing apart but, like every other actor in life who plays his part well, had come to believe in it himself, and to feel it real. He came up to her with a certain confused but melancholy frankness. "Miss Crditon," he said, I am afraid yon can not like to see me, but I have come about business. I would not for the world, for any other* reason, have brought what most be an annoyance upoi yom. And then Kate had lifted to hit a pair of very sympathetic, almost tender, eys. "Indeed I don't know why I should not like to see you," she said, quietly. "You have always been very kind to me. "Kind!" he had answered, turning «way with gesture of impatience, an not another word passed between them almost over, and

g* \intil the evening was all opportunity past indeed, to take advantage of any oppor-

tunity, that Kate felt half angry—wondering had the man quite got over it? had he ever meant anything? Bat ftt the

very

last, when she turned her head

unthinking, all at once she found his eyes upon ier, and that he was standing close by hermde. "I suppose I mast not ask for my old situation," he said, softly. "I have been ft fool and forfeited all my advantages because I could not win the greatest Yob used to speak to me onoe—of thesubject most interesting to yourself." "I don't think it would be in die least

interesting to yon now, said Kate, not without a her voice. "Ah, you don't know me," he Bftid. "I think I could interest myself in any thing that was interesting to yon."

Pittsburg Dispatch.

He was so dow,

Mr. Huntley," little pique in

And then there was silence, in which Kate began to fed her heart beat, and wondered if this man could be an oyster, or if he cotdd really be so inconceivably fond oj her as to be thus concerned in all that concerned her happiness. It sounded like something in a romance and yet Kate knew enough of life and society to know that romance sometimes gave bat a very colorless pictare of the truth.

,rl

hope you have heard lately," he went on, with a voice whieh was elaborately fund yet not unnaturally subdued— for, as has been said, Fred had fully entered into the role he was playing—"and that is going well,"

Kate blushed, perhaps, more violently than she had ever blushed in her life before. If he were making this sacrifice of his feelings for her, fcurely die ought to be true and sincere with him. She looked at him stooping over her, and tried to read his face, and asked herself, with a simplicity that is natural to the sophisticated, whether here, once for all, she had found the friend who is equal to utter self-abnegation, and of whom in books one sometimes reads. A more simple-minded girl, probably, would not have looked for so self-sacrificing a lover, but Kate had been brought up with a persuasion of her own power to sway everybody to her will. "Mr. Huntley, she said, hurriedly, "I don't think I ought to speak to you on such a subject but, indeed, I feel anxious, and I don't know what to do." "Then do speak to me," he said, bending" over her. "Do you think I care what happens to myself if I can be of use to you?"

There are sentiments of this heroic descripton which we would se» the fallacy of at once it addressed to others, which yet seem natural spoken to yourselves. And Kate had always been so important to every one about her. She looked up at him again, she faltered, she half turned away, and then after all, she spoke. "I don't know why I should tell you. I don't know what it means. I have not heard a single word from him, Mr. Huntley, since he went away."

A sudden gleam of light eaae into Fred's eyes, but he was looking down, and she only saw a ghost of it under his lowered eyelids. "That is very strange," he said. "Do yeu think he can, be ill Do you. think anything can have happened?" asked Kate. "He is not ill, he is at home at Fanshawe, and his burns are getting better. I -saw him yesterday," said Fred. "At home! and he never told me. Oh, how unkind it is! It used to be better every other day, and now it is nearly a fortnight But why should you care?" cried Kate, really moved with sharp mortification, and not quite aware oi what she saia. "I care a great deal," he said, very low, and sighed. And Kate's heart was sore, and she was angry, and wounded, and for !most the first time in her life that she had a little pride in her nature. Did the other despise her to whom she had given her heart! Did he think she was not worthy even of courtesy? though other eople were so far from thinking so. date's impatient heart began to beat high with anger and with pain. [To be concluded in next Sunday's Express.']

Nude Art at Long Branch.

The latest appeal to Anthony Comstock is that he will protect the summer dwellers at Long Branch from seeing the statuary in John Hoey's famous park. This is private property, but the owner keeps its gates open most of the time, and it serves .the purposes of a popular resort. The adornments are said to exceed in beauty and cost anything else the kind in America. The hothouse and open gardening is wonderful, and this season some imitations of Persian rugs, done extensively^ by setting out low plants of the requisite colors in close adherence to the oriental patterns, draw crowds of visitors daily. Scattered through the park are life-sized pieces of statuary, ana several of these are nude (prepared for promiscuous public view. Staid cottagers and some clergymen have written to Comstock that these statues are within his proyince and that he ought to take action against them as obscene 4hings. iut they remain conspicuous in the favorite driveways of the most fashionable belles and beaux, and Mr. Hoey laughs at the suggestion of their removal or obscuration.

Only an Actor's Daughter.

Letter toLewiston (Me.) Journal.

One of the most accomplished young ladies at a Maine summer resort which I recently visited is the daughter of a wellknown Boston actor. She is a-beautiful girl, but her life is a continuous traget Her art and her natural grace are equally fascinating. She recites dramatic passages like a Bernhardt She sings, plays and talks brilliantly. Admired she' is and petted she might be, but die refuses attention. She is a greedy reader. Her books are her companions. And they are not novels, but the classics and historical, biographical and philosophical works chiefly. She is fond of the Greek and Latin poets. She devours the Odyssey as rapidly and eagerly as Maud'or Mabel of summer hotel bkims over a love story. Every pleasant day she goes alone to rove, sits under a tree and reads for ours. Upon every tree under whose shade she sits she invariably caives with her penknife a skull and crossbonee. Nobody knows why. She always wears a grave and melancholy look. She rarely smiles. She is Melancholy's own.

To Avoid Mental Bankruptcy.^ Exchange. In "Brain Best" Prof. J. L. Corning gives seven rules whereby mental bankruptcy may be avoided. Avoid, first, excessive indulgence of the emotions second, frantic, desultory efiorts to accomplished in one lpur an amount of mental work appropriate to double that amount of time third, avoid every species of excels which experience has proven leads to gerferal constitutional drain fourth, avoid attempting to do two things at one and the same time avoid petty social and other engagements which interfere with the function of sleep sixth, ^void constipation, as esperienoe has abundantly proven that this condition is productive of abnormal depression seventh, avoid indigestible food.

Watering place idlers stick to tennis in spite of the physicians who advise against such violent exercise for people of sedentary habits.

The superintendent of the Denver hospital reports a brisk demand for girl babies for adoption, but says nobody wants boys.

Didaskalift: "Mother, there was ft dead moose in tbe milk-pail." Mother— "WelL didn't you take itont?" Carl— "No I threw the cftt in I"

Die Wespen: Baroness vim (on the promenade): "Just look what an absurd ftnd ridiculous costume Countess has got an this time. I wish I knew where she gets her dresses made."

Detroit Free Press: During a revival in Wyoming not. long ago a converted German announced: ''Off der Lort sbare my life der remainder off my days antI ton't tie peforo dot time already, I aerfi hinr while I liff."

New York Sun: Enraptured young woman, gazing upward (to young newspaper man)—What a wonderful thing is space! Do you ever contemplate its immensity. Young newspaper man—Indeed I do. every day.

I have ft column of it to fill

Almftnage de Barcelona: An individ-. ual was lately complaining how much he suffered from the heat at night when in bed. "I never do," replied his friend "summer and winter adike I have two blankets on my bed." "Hew dreadful!" "Wait till I've done—in summer I wear them under the mattress."

La Epoca: A man applied for a vacant situation as footman, etc. "Let us hear what yon can do," said the ladvof the house. "Can you wait at table? Do yon knuw bow to carve a fowl?" "As for carving," was the reply, "the Senora will be satisfied on that point when I tell her fot two years I assisted in the dissectingroom of the hospital."

NeueFreiePresse: A couple of Vienna dectors recently gave a younger colleague a mark of delicate attention. They sent him a letter "bearing both their signatures, stating that desiring to celebrate his anniversary by presenting him With something he never possessed, they requested him to accept as a birthdajr present the bearer of their missive, a patient, to treat him well, and keep him out of harm's way.

Harper's Bazar: A clergyman's son has heard a great deal of discussion about the mknner in which Sunday should be spent, and in the course of it has heard that "God gave us Sunday as a day of rest" That made an impression upon him. Last month he heard the firecrackers and torpedoes exploded in the streets days in advance of the Fourth. He told a little companion that it was wrong to anticipate day in that way. "God has given us one day on which to

lia

make all the noise we can," said he. Merchant Traveler: Pat and his wife were watching the Grant funeral procession in New York. "Be jabers, Biddy," he said to her, "phwat a foine percission it is now." "Av course," she replied, "fer he was a foine man, the same."

Just then ft magnificent body of men

—j

n-»

—thusiastic.

filed into view, atgrewent

"Arrah, now, Biddy, do yet see that now? Bad cess to it, Biddy, af the owld man could only have lived to say the loikes aV that, phwat a plasure it wad have been to 'im to doi, Biddy, bafore it was ahl over."

Philadelphia Call: Exauiiner—What is the color of this flag? Engineer—Green, sir. "Bight Shut your left eye. What is the color of this flag?" "Green, sir. Dark green." "Just so. Shut your right eye. What flag am I waving now?" s-i "A black one, sir." -i -A--'-" "Nonsense. It's bright red. And this flag?" "Black, sir." "Pshaw! It's white. Your left eye seems a little off." "Well, may be it is. It is ft glass eye, r."

The Whip: Doctor—Have you got the ague yet? PatMnt—No, sor. Me an' my wife is as bad as iver, sor.

Doctor—Did yon get that whisky and quinine I prescribed? PatieAt—Yis, sor but it did no good at all, at all.

Doctor—That is strange! You took it according to instructions, I suppose? Patient—Yis, sor ye know a mm and his wife are one.

Doctor—What has thai to do with it Patient—Well, ye see, sor, bein' as we are one flesh, I tuk the whisky and gave Biddy the quinine.

The Princess of Wales and Mrs. Langtry. London Letter to the Boston Herald.

Mrs. Langtry was subjected thre$ days, after (the Lonsdale-Chetwynd affair) to the greatest slight that could be inflicted on a woman in her position, a deliberate "cut" from the Princess of Wales, who is not the plastic doll in the prince's hands that some people imagine. This episode occurred at the Coombe house, where Lady Archibald Campbell and her pastoral players were giving the last performance of the Faithf ulle Shepherdesse. The Prince of Wales entered into conversation with Mrs. Langtry, who dropped the usual quaint oourtesy with which royalty is received the Princess of ales had turned her back and was talking to someone else. A hundred eyes watched thegroup.. It hasoften been said, and not unjustly, that the Prince of Wales is remarkable for his tact, but even the most distinguished social warriors sometimes lose their heads when a. pretty woman's interests are concerned, and at this moment, if any, Mrs. Langtry needed the consolation of royal favor. The prince plucked the princess by the sleeve, after saying to Mrs. Langtry in quite a loud voice: "Oh, the princess would like to tell you—" The princess, turned around and surveyed Mrs. Langtry quite as though she did not see her, gave so dight a bow that the inclination of the head was almost imperceptible,- and then deliberately turned her back and resumed her conversation with her friends. It was the hottest day of the season, but the thermometer seemed to drop hundred degrees the irince. looked exquisitely foolish, Mis. pi

Langtry's confusion was painful to behold, and the social ax had fallen! But this new scandal may help the Lilly's theatrical interests, which have of late begun to languish.

Deformed by Fashion.

Union town Press. It is hardly worth while to tell our fair friends that men do not admire the revival of long skirts and the hitching gestures which they entail upon women Nature has given but one animal a train and that one is the peacock. The bird is not compelled to kick its appendage into shape behindhand therefore wears it gracefully.

Horace Greeley's Family.:

Baltimore Ameriosn. Estelle Greeley, a sister of the journalist, married John F. Cleveland, who had a comfortable place on the Tribune up to his death. He was not a money-saver, but he left a small property. When

Greeley died, what he left, with the Cleveland property, amounted to not lew than $50,000. Mis. Cleveland's two daughters, educated in Paris wrotM-book of reminescences of Chappaqna, which brought them a fur sum of money. Ida Greeley married Colonel Nicholas Smith, a Kentuckian of great polish of mannas, widely known hue for eccentricities of dress ftq his high appreciation of his own beauties of person. The Greeley and Cleveland property was meetly in stocks and. bonds, wnich had permanent virtue even in the present depression. Colonel Smith obtained from Mrs. Cleveland, on pretence of changing securities, power of attorney. After Ida Greeley's death he led a costly life at the best hotels here and the finest watering places. When, Mrs. Cleveland came to an understanding with him .a few monthsgago, she had no property left She threatened him with exposure, and he told her that if she would keep still he could marry a wealthy lady in California, when he would restore her property. It is said that Gabrielle Greeley's property has gone the same way.

Mrs. Cleveland was reduced to such straits that die was compelled to tell her story to friends, and it came to Mr. Whitelaw Beid's ears, and he gave |500 annuity for her"support Other generous friends have also opened their purses to relieve her. Meantime the gallant colonel is in California.

Seme of Grant's Pithy Sayings. "Let us have peace." "Let no guilty man escape." "Pile in tbe men and hold the works." "Whichever party attacks now will whip.". '-We must cut our way to the gulf with our swords." "Ifstoo late to dedge after the balls have passed." "I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." "I cannot afford to quarrel with a man whom I have to command." "If home has a hell outside of it, it ought to be a heaven within."

Before Vicksburg: "We are whipping them beautifully. Hurry up the troops." "I am willing to be judged by my acts, but not to have them misrepresented or falsified." "There are few men really competent to command a thousand men. I doubt if I am one." "The good opinion of. my countrymen is dearer to me than the praise of all the world besides." "There is not a sufficiency of Union sentiment in this portion of the state (Tennessee) to save Sodom." "I have nothing to do ,with opinions, and shall deal only with armed rebellion and its aiders and abettors." "I was educated by the government If niy knowledge and experience can be of any service, I ought to offer them." "No terms other than unconditional surrender can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your works." "The stability of this government and the unity of nation depends solely on the cordial support and earnest loyalty oi the people." "No theory of my own will ever stand in the way of my-executing, in good faith, any order I may receive from those in authority over me."

To his soldiers, in response'to a call for a speech: "Soldiers, thank you. You have done a good day's work to-day, but you must do abetter one to-morrow." "I don't know anything about making speeches that is not in my line but we are forming a company in Galena, and mean to do what we can for putting down the rebellion." "You might as well attemps to put out the' flames of a burning house with a squirt-gun. You ought to organize the whole military power of the north for a desperate struggle."

Complimented on his strategy, Grant replied: "Oh, I don't know much about that I had as many men as I wanted, and I simply pounded away until

Scientific American.

pounded them down." Grant to Sherman before the fall of Vicksburg: "They seem to put a good deal of faith in the Lord and Joe Johnston, but you must whip Johnston at least fifteen miles from here."

At Shiloh an officer asked him: "What preparations have you made for retreatag, general?" To which the quiet, imiassive man responded, "I have not espaired of whipping them yet!"

To McPherson: "Mac, you know your whisky won't help me to think give me a dozen of the best cigars you can find, and, if the ladies will excuse me for smoking, I think by the time I have finished them I shall have this job pretty nearly planned."

Buell reproached Grant at the battle of Shiloh for his poor provisions for retreat in case of defeat, saving that his steam boats would not have carried away 10,000 men. "Well, was the answer, "there wouldn't have been more than that many left by the time I got ready to go."

Beer Against Whisky.

For some years a decided inclination has been apparent all over the country to gives up the use of whisky and other strong alcohols, using as a substitute beer ana other compounds. This is evidently founded on the idea that beer is not harmful and contains a large amount ot nutriment also that bitters msyhave some medical qualities which will nutralize the alcohol which it conceals, etc. The use of beer is found to produce a species of degeneration of all the organs

Siminishetl

rofound and deceptive fatty deposits, circulation, conditions of conestion and perversions of both the ver and kidneys are constantly present Intellectually, a stupor amounting almost to paralysis arrests the reason, changing all the higher faculties into a mere animalism, sensual, selfish, sluggish, varied only with laroxysms of anger that are senseless and jrutal. In appearance the beer-drinker may be the picture of health, but in reality he is most incapable of resisting disease. A dight injuiy, a severe shock to the body or mind, will commonly pro voke acute disease eading'fatally.

Compared with inebriates who use different kinds of alcohol, he is more incurable and more generally diseased. The constant use of beer every day gives the system no recuperation, but steadily lowers the vital forces. It is our observation that beer drinking in this country produces the very lowest kind of inebriety, closely allied to criminal insanity. The most dangerous class of ruffians in our

begin to notice that the

girls' stooping to pick up their skirts is making them lopsided. Women whose bones and muscles are matured are not much afiected by the unnatural and almost constant use of the right arm downward and the consequent bending of the whole body but girls are affects in away that will bring partial deformity. In not a few cases lopsidedness is quite apparent to eyes that measure with accuracy any deviation from the line of symmetry and perpendicularity. Worth and his worthless man milliners have worked much harm to the forms and health of women. --v'

—we cities are beer "drinkers. Jecourae to beer as a substitute for other forms of alcohol merely increases the danger and fatality.

Of More Than Ordinary Interests First Kentuckian—"You will take in the hanging to-day, ef course?"

Second Kentuckian (with a yawn)—"I hardly think so." First Kentuckian (surprised)—"Why, it's a triple affair. We may not have another like it for a year."

Second Kentuckian (with sudden animation)—"O, triple, is it? Then of course I'll take it in. I thought it was only a single."

Instantaneous photography^ provided evidence in a California lawsuit wherein a sorreptitions picture of two persons was offered in contradiction of testimony that they had not met In the manner shown by the camera.

Colonel Ingeraoll in the Surf. Colonel Ingenoll's manner of bathing in the surf is about as unorthodox as his

views concerning diecl. In the first place he does not dovote an hour to his "makeup" preparatory to dipping in the breakers. The scene is something like this: At flood tide in the afternoon the rotund orator, with one of his daughters on either arm, wilks down, from the Long Beach hotel to the bathing pavilion. He generally appears in a blue serge suit and, Evarts-like, white beaver adjusted at an-angle peculiarly his own. He looks like wnat he is a prosperous, well-fed lawyer. But about ten minutes later, as his round head and rubicund cheeks pop up from the $ crest of a crashing breaker, the Colonelis an entirely different individual. He looks like a big Long Idand farmer in the hayfield, whose hat has fallen off in the hurry of mowing and who hasn't had time to pick it up. A big hlae shirt—not a jer eey, but more like a farmer's blouse-^ hides his body and arms, and a glaring pair of white suspenders crossed over his broad back hold up along pair of blue flannel trousers cut in the mode of the original Cohen. His enjoyment of the serf is as fervid as his oratory, and when, after a few minutes' wait, his two daugh-' ters join him in the water, his shoots am3f laughter are aa. merry as any schoolboy's. The trio generally remain in for a long time, and they are alwayb closely observed by a throng of sightseers.

The Eskimo Goes to a Summer Resort. Lienteant Schwatka in the Independent. So short are the Arctic seasons of spring and fall that some polar travelers deny their existence, the summer following the winter with a suddenness that sweeps the wintry snows from the ground and starts the hardy Alpine plants into blossoms aa if an earthquake or grand convulsion of nature had thrown the Arctic regions under the equator as abruptly as those terrestrial forces usually work, and again the summer is merged into the winter aa quickly as a person would change, climbing to the top of a Mexican mountain, from tropical luxuriance to snow, iee and r* glaciers.

As soon as the warm weather is ushered in, and the round-domed snowhouses commence showing signs of decay under the advancing heat, the^op of one or two having, probably, tumbled in on the inmates, the Eskimo lord of creation closely watches the ridges and hiB-top^** especially on the southern dopes, and -a$r soon as they peep through the winterV covering of snow, and a, spot is found large enough to pitch his skin tent and give him a dry floor, that very day he will abandon his tumbled-in snow-house, and take up hit abode for the summer in the tent.

French Education Under Fert*jT Paris Letter to New Orleans Picayune. M. Jules Ferry has always been an uncompromising foe of the clericals, and he has done more than any other French statesman for the cause of free, non-sec-tarian and obligatory education. Under the old monarchy the sums expended for educational purposes never exceeded 4,000,000 francs a year last year the appropriation for public instruction were 131.581,000 franees, and the minister, in^ asking for the sum, reported to the chamber that there was not a child in France who was not learning at least a primary education. In 1878 male and female normal schools were opened in nearly every department, and in the matter of secondary and classical instruction the same progress has been made throughout the country. I don't think under all these circumstances that the country will show itself ungrateful to M. Ferry. It will not, I am sure, forget what has been done for the cause of republicanism by the man in whom it has of late years placed its confidence. 14A-i§K?'

What They Eat.

London Times.

Few persons are aware of the extensive nature of the victualing on board the great ocean steamers. Each vessel is provisioned as follows for the passengers and crew: 3,500 pounds of butter, 3,000 hams, 1,600 pounds of biscuits, exclusive of those supplied for the crew 8,000 pounds

of grapes, almonds, figs and other desert fruits 1,500 pounds of jams and jellies tinned meats, 6,000 pounds dried beans, 3,000 pounds rice, 3,000 pounds ^nions, 5,0®0 pounds potatoes, 40*tons flour, 300 barrels and eggs, 1,200 dozen. Fresh vegetables, dead meat, and live bullocks, sheep, pigs, geese, turkeys, ducks, fowlsj^ fish and casual game are generally sujp' plied at each port, so it is difficult to estimate them. Probably two dozen bullocks and sixty sheep would be a fair average for the whole voyage, and the rest may be inferred in proportion. During the summer months, when traveling is heavy^ twenty-five fowls are often used Jjufc&p for a single dinner.

Carrier Pigeons for War.

Paris News.

The minister of war is having a pigeonhouse constructed capable of accommodating 400 carrier pigeons. Pigeon stations are already established at Mount' Valerien, Vincennes, Marceilles, Merdun, Perpignan, Lile, Toul and Belfort. An officer has been detached for the purpose of opening up relations with professional and amateur pigeon breeders.

Mrs. Nellie Sartoris still wests tjfc five-tbous.and-dollar diamond ring whim was one of her wedding pieM^faomMi friend of her father's in public uw. day alter the general's burial Mrs. Child's, of Philadelphia, gave her a beautiful mourning chain of onyx and gold for the little silver watch she carries.

In a recently published work on

"Insanity

Writers of sea stories who describe waves as "mountains high" will be thrown upon their beam ends to. learn that the extreme height of ocean Waves is forty-, eight feet, and that the average of great waves is about thirty feet. A forty-eight-foot mountain would be a good deal of a mole-hill.

Mrs. Grant has grown much attached to the cottage at Mt McGregor where the,, general died. It is reported that she will remain there a large portion of her time, as she feels better able to bear her loss in that retired place. She has left the cottage but once dnce her husband'B death.

Boscoe Conkling is to be asked by the Boston city government to deliver the oration at tne Grant memorial services.. John Boyle O'Reilly probably will serve as the poet of the day and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe is to read an ode.

A lump of ruby and silver, so big that) a man would strain the muscles of his back in lifting it, wis dug from a inin^ Austin, Nev., recently, and it has been,presented as a curiosity to the Nevadastate university at Reno.

They wouldn't let Bob Ingersoll's dog! come on the Manhatten Beach property and so the colonel departed in a huff for Long Beach.

A Florida cow that went to drink from a pool was seized by a big alligator, buV escaped with a loss oLbotn horns.

3# *4#

and Allied Neuroses"—quoted

the Philadelphia Medical News—the author speaks serioudy of "rapid verbal association, punning and verse-making" as manifestations of mania. The doctors are gradually beginning to find out what is well-known to everybody else.