Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 1 September 1889 — Page 3

A LADY NOVELIST

Lady Araminta Fitzazure was secretly dissatisfied with her position in Bociety. She burned for a wider renown than that of being a mere woman of fashion, who gave the most delightful garden parties and the most epicurean little dinners in London. "Nowadays one must really do something or be something out of the common to be a real social success—that is, to be raised above the common herd,' she said plaintively to her great all}' pretty Mre. Jonijuill.

Mrs. .Ioci|uil's set was notquite so exclusive as that of Lady Araminta, but the latter found her chosen ally very useful sometimes. Mrs. Jonquil's acquaintance among literary and artistic people was large and varied—she even prided herself on a certain Bohemian flavoring in her gatherings at her charming house in South Kensington.

Whenever Lady Araminta wished to secure a "celebrity" to play the part of lion and roar gently for the delectation and amusement of her own particular clique, Mrs. Jonquil could usually secure the coveted personage. In a word, Mrs. Jonquil was a sort of social jackal to her more aristocratic friend and to her, therefore, Lady Araminta had recourse in her present trouble. "He a little more explicit, dear," said the jackal sweetly. "Just explain what you want to do, and then perhaps I may be able to help you." "The fact is I have no deiiaite idea what I do wish but I am tired of my present prosaic existence." "What an enfant gate you are! Surely you are not discontented with life?" said Mrs. Jonquil, with a touch of irony too line for the other to see. The jackal was a trifle jealous of the lion's superior social status, and rather more than a trifle pleased to hear that even a lady in her own right is sometimes dissatisfied with her lot. "But, indeed, I am," cried her ladyship dolefully. "I want excitement."

Jo to Monte Carlo," said the other, concisely. "I have tried that but I lost a lot of money, and, in Bhort, I found that form of excitement unsatisfactory—and expensive." "Try roughing it abroad—of course, not in places where you are likely to meet your friends." "Where do I escape them?" said her ladyship, sighing. "People go everywhere nowadays. Besides, I don't like roughing it I like my comforts," she added, glancing round at the luxurious furnishing of her boudoir. "Wuit a minute, and let me think," said the jackal, wrinkling her pretty white forehead.

After a brief period of reflection, she looked up quickly and said, "Write novel!"

Lady Araminta started, but did #ot rebuff this suggestion as Bhe had the other two. "It would give me a great deal of trouble," she said dubiously. "But then think of the excitement of seeing yourself in print, and of being cut up in the Ehadamanthine." "1 don't see the fun of that," put in Lady Araminta, tossing her head. "Don't you? Well, that is just what I should enjoy—it must be the sauce piquante of authorship." "But just think of the trouble of writing a novel."

Mrs. Jonquil bent forward and fixed her bright eyes 011 her friend. "That is easily obviated," she said, mysteriously, "Keep a secretary and make him write it. Why should you work yourself if you have money to pay someone else to do it for you? Pas si bete," added Mrs. Jonquil, shrugging her shoulders. She was fond of airing her French, which was excellent. "That would not bo a bad idea—particularly if the secretary were nice." "I know a really charming man,young, good looking, clever and amusing—the very person to write a society novel." "Vhen why in the world hasn't he written one aud made himself famous?""Not clever enough for that, and too poor. While the grass was growing the horse would be starving, and that sort of thing, you know. But if you, dear Araminta, paid him two or three guineas a week to come here and write from dictation, he would be delighted. I dare say he would help you with the grammar aud any little trick of writing you might not know of, plot and incidents and dialogue, and so on. You would be doing a charitable action and amusing yourself at the same time. The book, too, would certainly be a success middle-class people would ^be enthusiastic about it—a novel by a lady of title affords them a sort of vicarious way of mixing in Society, with a capital S, you know." "Well, I'll think about it," said Lady Araminta. thoughtfully. "It would certainly be very nice to win fame as au author and the secretary idea is not so bad."

Mrs. Jonquil's handsome eyes were fixed 011 the other's face, with a look half of contempt and half of satire. "Have luucheon with me to-morrow, dear," she said, rising. "Your literary meutor, that-is-to-be. shall be there to meet you."

The next day Lady Araminta drove to Mrs. JonquiU's house in very good spirits. The idea of appe.-.ring before the public in the character of an author had many attractions for her. It would raise her above the ordinary run of ladies of fashion it would give her not only social prestige as a clever and accomplished woman, but would briDg her a certain sort of celebrity outside her own circle. The latter thought was so pleasing to her that she resolved to carry out Mrs. Jonquil's suggestion without delay, if the proposed secretary were at all presentable.

In Mrs. Jonquil's drawing-room was only one other guest, a tall, handsome youug man, well dressed and well mannered. whom the hostess introduced as "Mr. Marpenn." Can this be the impecunious scribbler of whom Mrs. Jonquil had spoken? At luncheon nothing was sBiil on the all-important subject. Mr. Marpenn talked well on all sorts of topics and seemed thoroughly au courant with the doings of the great world. But later, when the trio had adjourned to Mrs. JonquiU's morning-room the whole thing was satisfactorily arranged. Mr. Marpenn was engaged by her ladyship as her private secretary at a salary of three guineas a week, with the promise of a handsome honorarium if

Krom London Society.]

the projected novel proved a success.

Lady Araminta's husband had been a Manchester cotton spinner, but at the time of his marriage had severed all connection with the paternal business. He had the greatest regard for his aristocratic wife and her large assortment of relations but he was determined to be always master in his own house. Naturally, he did not approve of the appointment of a young and handsome man as his wife's private secretary. When her ladyship informed him that her literary work rendered such a functionary a necessity, he asked crossly why she wasted her time on such stuff? Weren't there novels enough and to spare without hers, and if she must indulge a taste for that sort of thing, what did she want a secretary for—why didn't she do the work herself?

To these and many other questions Lady Araminta replied sweetly, though firmly, that Mr. Marpenn's assistance was indispensable, but that when the novel was Bafely through the press he should be dismissed. When the Fitzazures left town for Scotland the private secretary accompanied them later on, in the autumn, he was domiciled at Fitzazure abbey, and in the intervals of literary work enjoyed some excellent shooting. The novel did not progress very rapidly, for Mr. Marpenn thoroughly appreciated the luxury of his new quarters and Lady Araminta found her secretary a most useful right-hand man—he filled the role of tame-cat to admiration he helped her get up theatricals and tableaux, and was always ready to fetch and carry for her. Some of the strait-laced country people shrugged their shoulders and muttered something about a cavaliere Bervente but the more good natured supposed it was all right "as Fitzazure didn't seem to mind."

At last Lady Araminta herself awoke to the fact that people were talking about her. Having always kept herself clear of scandal, and honestly hating notoriety of that sort, she began to hurry the dilatory Marpenn through his task, and early in the spring the novel was completed and in the publisher's hands.

But like Sindbad'sold man of the sea, Mr. Marpenn was not easily to be got rid of. He reminded her ladyship that the book must be seen through the press— "proofsheet correcting was most anxious and monotonous work he was quite sure Lady Araminta would not like that part of authorship."

With a sigh Lady Araminta consented to the secretary's continued residence in Eaton place. Her husband grumbled and told her plainly that he would no longer tolerate Mr. Marpenn's presence there. Something very like a serious quarrel between this hitherto model couple was the result. Lady Araminta obstinately stood her ground and in the end carried her point—adding as a concession that her secretary should dine in the library in future.

At last the proof-sheetB of the novel were corrected the novel went to press, and the secretary's labors being concluded he took his departure from Eaton place. But somehow the inextinguishable Marpenn was always dropping in on all sorts of pretexts. Having once allowed him to establish himself on the footing of a friend, it was really impossible for Lady Araminta to dismiss him like a servant.

When the novel was published, the pseudo-authoress was so delighted that she forgot all her vexations. With one or two exceptions the reviews were favorable, and Mr. Ilarpenn heard, with secret amusement, loud praise lavished on "dear Lady Araminta's clever book." The loudest in this chorus of adulation was a certain critic who had been particularly censorious in his judgment of a book written by the secretary during the previous year and published under a nom de plume. "Give you my word, sir," he said to Marpenn at dinner one night at Mrs. Jonquil's "Lady Araminta's book shows really remarkable talent, great insight into character, elegant writing and—and knowledge of society. A brilliant work —really a brilliant work."

Marpenn smiled and said he thought it WSB. At all events, whatever its merits or demerits, the book had a large sale, aud a second edition was issued. The handsome honorarium promised by Lady Araminta was duly bestowed on the secretary, "and now," thought her ladyship, "surely I am done with him."

But Mr. Marpenn was not BO easily "done with." "No, my lady," he said to himself with a disagreeable smile after an attempt at a snub on Lady Araminta's part, "you have had your triumph and you shall pay for it. Why should you derive not only praise but pecuniary benelit from my work? You will not find me very easy to shake off."

Then he began a systematic course of levying blackmail on the luckless lady novelist, and checks—for much larger amounts than those received by Lady Araminta from her publishers—were frequently made payable to Herbert Marpenn. Mr. Fitzazure was at last made aware of the persecution and extortions to which his wife was being subjected. "Araminta! it is really time we should arrive at an understanding," he said one day, coming into her boudoir with an open letter in his hand, "if things have come to such a pass that some confounded scoundrel thinks it necessary to write me an anonymous letter "An anonymous letter!" echoed Lady Araminta feebly. "Oh, Tom! surely not about—me?" "Well, read it for yourself and see," said the angry husband, thrusting it into her hand. "Mind, I don't say I believe a word of it, but it isn't a pleasant thing for a man to hear about his wife." "Oh, Tom!" cried her ladyship, with flaming cheeks, when she had glanced hurriedly through the letter, "it is shameful—and all untrue, I swear to you!" And she burst into tears. "I told you I didn't believe it," repeated Mr. Fitzazure, "but, as I say, it is not pleasant to be told that your wife has been seen at Richmond, dining at the 'Stars and Stripes' with a wretched literary hack—" "I will never see him again," sobbed her ladyship. "Oh, Tom, you can't think what misery that man has caused me!" "But, my dear, why in the world—" "Why has he a hold over me?" she interrupted passionately. "I will confess everything to you if you will promise to forgive me for my deceit—"

Poor Mr. Fitzazure's ruddy face turned ghastly white. He had always believed so thoroughly in his wife, and their married life had been far happier than the majority. Yet her words would bear a very ugly interpretation. "Araminta," he said sternly, "whatever you have to confess, don't keep me in suspense tell me the worst at once." "I—I did not write my novel," said her ladyship in a very small voice.

Mr. Fitzazure's brow cleared and he heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Oh! Is that all? he sai^ passing his

hand across his forehead. "Then who did?" "Mr. Marpenn," faltered Lady Araminta "he wrote every word of it."

Mr. Fitzazure burst into & loud laugh. "Upon my word, my dear, you have made a great fool of yourself."

Then, after a moment's thought, he added: "And I suppose that rascal Marpenn has been frightening you into giving him bribes to hold his tongue?" "Yes." "And, what is worse, has placed you in an awkward position—compromised you, in short." "Oh, no, Tom, I don't think it is as bad as that. I have been very foolish, but "Well, people will talk, you know, Araminta but I'll soon put an end to their confounded cackle."

Just then the door opened and the subject of their conversation entered the room unannounced—Mr. Marpenn had of late assumed all the.privileges of a favored intimate.

The secretary looked Bomewhat disconcerted by Mr. Fitzazure's presence. But his native impudencesoon returned. "Good morning, Lady Araminta," he said airily. "I wanted to speak to you in private for a moment—about your novel," he added, as he read signs pf cold displeasure and half-veiled contempt in her face. "Whatever you have to say to Lady Araminta can be said in my presence," said Mr. Fitzazure, stiflly "we have no secrets from each other." "Indeed!" sneered Marpenn, glancing stealthily at his patroness. "Not even on the subject of her ladyship's book?" "No, sir not even on that subject. If you can frighten a lady into giving you money and into enduring your society, you will find that I am not easily intimidated," said Mr. Fitzazure, with dignity. "Indeed!" remarked the secretary, with a sardonic smile "then I suppose that her ladyship is ready to avow the real author of her very successful book." "Ob, no, Tom," put in Lady Araminta, in a frightened whisper. "Don't let him do that I should die of ridicule." "Pshaw! Who would believe him?" interrupted her husband, contemptuously. "There I think you are mistaken," returned the secretary, suavely. "I have several notes written by her ladyship in which she refers to the book as my work." "Is this true?" asked Mr. Fitzazure of his wife. "I—am afraid so," she answered, tearfully. "Then," he added, turning to Mr. Marpenn, who stood watching the pair with a well-assumed air of invincibility, I suppose there is only one waw out of this dilema. Name your price, sir."

The secretary named it, and the amount might well stagger even a man of Tom Fitzazure's wealth. At first he obstinately refused to submit to the Bhameless extortion, but when his wife whispered to him: "Pay it, Tom, and I will promise to do without a single new dresa for a year and we wont come up to town next season. I will make any sacrifice rather than face the exposure he threatens." Mr. Fitzazure produced his check-book and reluctantly signed a draft for the amount named, which the secretary pocketed. He then bowed gracefully to Lady Araminta, and, having traded successfully on a woman's weakness and foolish vanity and the generosity of a too indulgent husband, left the room and the house.

In spite of Mr. Fitzazure's huah money

Bome

reports of the real author­

ship of Lady Araminta's novel got about, but they were not generally believed, and to this day her ladyship gets a fair amount of kudos for her "literary talents."

But if people ask her, as they not infrequently do, when Bhe is going to publish a new novel, Lady Araminta shakes her head and smiles.

For only Fitzazure and Mr. Marpenn know what was the cost of Lady Araminta's first and last novel.

A Dl'EIi UNDER THE SEA.

A Do.spornto Conflict Ketween Two Divers in the Sea. One of the best divers I ever met was old Captain Compton, who was murdered at the bottom of the sea. We were working at the time on the wreck of ata East Indiaman, in the Atlantic side of Cape Cod, the peninsula aide of Massachusetts. Among our crew was a huge Haytian negro known as "Nigger Jack," who had for some reason taken a violent dislike to Compton. He never lost an opportunity of picking a quarrel. Time and again they .had tried to settle the matter with fistB, the negro invariably getting the worst of the conflict. On the occasion I mention Compton, Jack and another diver were sent down together. After working a Bhort time the negro suddenly drew his knife, and, springing at ComptoD, made a vicious lunge at his right side, hoping to cut through the canvas coat and dispose of him. The old captain was too quick for him, however. He caught the assassin's arm and threw him off, at the same time drawing his own weapon. Then began a battle for life beneath the waves. The captain glanced into the blazing eyes glaring at him from behind the negro's helmet, and knew that the life of one or the other would soon pay the penalty of the feud. Again and again the negro sprang at Compton, only to find hiB blows parried. Around they circled, jumping here and there, and we above grew alarmed at the strain on the air pipes and life lines, until suddenly a rush of water into Compton's pump told us that his pipe had parted. Quickly I sprang to the hoisting ropes, intending to raise him before the air in the helmet should give out, but to my horror they were Black, showing that they, too, had parted. At this instant came the "quick hoist" signal on the line of the other white diver and wild with fear we grasped the ropee and soon had him in the boat. Quickly we removed his helmet and plied him with questions. For a moment he could not speak then he gasped: "Compton's dead the nigger killed him be cut the pipe and lines," and fainted. The shock of the submarine murder had been too great tor even this strong man.

We tested the negro's lines they were still taut, and arming ourselves with clubs we hoisted the murder to the boat he offered no opposition as we removed the suit and securely bound him. I instantly dressed and dscended after Compton's body the water around him was tinged with blood, and as I bent over him I noticed with horror that the front of his jacket had acturlly been cut to pieces, no less than a dozen wounds being afterward found upon his body. The negro was tried and convicted, but committed suicide by choking himself with the sleeve of his shirt

Veracious Boomers.

Slumper—Just got back from Kansas, have you? Well, how does the land lie out there?

Slimper—Not half so bad as the boomers do. Lend me a dime, will you?— [Lawrence American.

WHEN THE COWS COME HOME. When the com come home. With their tender eyes Aglow, and the fevered day Is done,

SjgS

I will fold my bands. And one by one Life's cares will fade, till I am a child,

III spa

When the cows come borne.

When the cows come home With their laming feet. Again as a barefoot, careless lad

I pass the gate Where the children wait Jb'or a drink or daisied nectar sweet

When the cows come home. When the cows come home. How the mem'ries sweep Over the heart that is lone and old,

Of a childhood fled, 1 recall my dead Aye, one by one, at the sunset's gold,-

When the cows come home.

THE CUSTOMS OF EFFETE EUROPE.

They Make 11 .Southern Woman Feel Like .Shouting Freedom From the Housetops. Tn America we have district messenger boys, electric lights in our houses, steam heaters, gas, patent ice-cream freezers, artificial fires, imitation stained glass, half a dozen editions of our evening newspapers^ ice, big bath-tubs, clime museums, the thousand and one amusements and conveniences demanded by our nervous and luxurious people, writes Catharine Cole in the New Orleans Picayune. In Europe you sit in your bedroom by a wax candle, you fasten your letter with a wafer and seal, you have next to no newspaper at all, you must bathe in a sugar-bowl, and if you call for ice at your hotel the proprietor comes in person to make sure you mean what you say, and it iB ten chances to one if he does not formally warn you to get the ice at your own risk, and that he washes his hands of all responsibility in the matter. In these European cities you hear no sounds of building, you see no derricks nor piles of mortar, you hear no busy whirr of factory wheels, and as you go on, on, on, from town to town and city to city, you begin to feel the mellow age of thiB civilization, of a world in its aftermath. The soil is tilled for food, and patient human Bpiders sit in the sunshine at their flimy cobwebs of lace, spun as it has been spun for hundreds of years. The beautiful and imposing pageantries and ceremonies of the church keep alive religion, and man works to live, while with UB he lives to work.

I am tempted to keep on in this e'rain and' tell how variously and how curiously we are regarded a3 a nation. It is more than true that only a less than saving remnant of the population of the old world know anything in fact of the United States. Schoolboys learn but little of our history, and a 10-years-old American laddie might put a European statesman to blush for his superior knowledge of American affairs.

The Picayune would lose its readers if it failed to give daily its columns of minutely detailed events in European current history. On a lucky day I find in the great London Telegraph ten lines devoted to the United States. When I tell people over here that I come from the South they set me down for either a Brazilian or a Chilian. A hardworking house servant in England gets S40 a year. Many laborers with families to support earn no more than $6 a month, and on the continent a good carpenter is well pleased if he gets sixty cents a day, while his average in many countries are not more than forty cents.

In Germany things are worse, where a period of military life is compulsory. Self-respect is not taught in any of theee countries. How can it be, where the creed is that one man is better than another if he be born the richer of the two and in a more luxurious social station? No one, or scarcely no one, is proof against taking a fee. You can fee, and the price is not high. I do not think the individual to blame for this, but the whole trend of life. It is a shame to see the one man erect, wholesome, fine minded, capable, nobler, defer himself abjectly to the whim of a fool who simply owns by inheritance a coronet or is down in the blue book.

If I wish to travel undisturbed in a railway carriage I give the guard a tiny bit of siver, 10 or 20 cents. Fancy bribing a Pullman palace car conductor with a quarter. In the majoiity of the restaurants waiters pay for the privilege of serving, and expect to make a living out of their fees. It is a system that encourages the moral deterioration of the whole nation, but unfortunately there seems no remedy for it. Honest, pure women bob and courtesy at their betters, brave men walk backwards before their "superiors"—it is all, all, a variation of slavery, and as I see it I feel like getting upon the housetops and telling of the freedom of free America.

Now this thing exists everywhere. It makes peasants, it preserves national costumes and national traits, it keeps people clannish and humble, and makes countries valuable from a pictorial and esthetic point of view—but O, how it makes one who comes from a free land honor its usages, its laws, and constitution.

When we left Brussels the other day a certain grand duke was just arriving. A portion of the platform was reserved it was covered with carpet, fenced in with flowers, and tented over by a hundred flags. Policemen and fifty staff officers glittering with gold helmets, white plumes, and silver sworde guarded the approaches. No one might come there it was socially sacred ground, and when the high cockalorum of all this tomfoolery arrived. Lord! Lord! what a bowing and scraping and knee-drawing and saluting and pranking there were, to be sure. His mightiness was dressed as the historic Leicester was the evening Queen Elizabeth rode over the bridge Into Kenilworth castle—that is, all in white, and mighty fine and royal he looked, too. And 1 confess I hung half a yard of me out of the car window gazing at him and the men standing around in stained glass attitudes of dumb adoration, and I forgot, or temporarily forgave, that those men addressed that other man only in sacramental third person, and that they walked backward, crab fashion, before him as if he were a4ioly thing, not a little, puny human prince, who at the end of all can only usurp six feet of earth.

A Little Oirl "Charmed" by a Serpent. By the wonderful presence of mind of Mrs. K. L. Henry, Tuesday morning, the little daughter of the family was saved from a terrible death. The family some time ago moved out to the Rutherford place, on the Houston road, near Macon. Tuesday morning, while one of the little girls was playing in the yard, the mother looked out and saw that she was standing perfectly still, and with her eyee firmly fixed on an object in the grass. Hardly thinking her child was in danger, the mother came out into the yard, and as she approached the place where the child stood. Bhe noticed a large rattlesnake almost four feet in length, coiled up and ready to strike, within an arm's length of the little one. The child had actually been charmed and could not move from the spot. The mother, with aloud cry, seized a stick and struck the reptile, preventing an attack. She

afterward killed it The narrow escape from death of her daughter gave Mrs. Henry a serious shock.—[Macon (Ga.) Telegraph.

That Derelict Whale.

The carcass of the great whale which has deceived several ocean captains into reporting the existence of a new island in midocean was seen again on August 2 by the steamship Mineole, which reached this port yesterday from Hamburs. The whale was passed in latitude 57:10, longitude 22. Captain Evans declares that the whale's body was over one hundred feet long, and floated six feet above the surface of the water, presenting in the distance a close resemblance to an island upon which the sea wta breaking.—[Philadelphia Record.

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TO TIE LUES OP THE HOUSEHOLD III TOWN OR COUNTRY.!

IT IS A L.ITTLE GOLD MINE.

No labor you can perform for cash returns'pays as well as that of converting wasling Fruits into evaporated stock. These products are among the highest priced luxuries in food products. Kvaporated peaches, cherries and raspberries, -0 to 2,i cents per pound apples, pears, blackberries, etc., 10 to lfi cents all salable to or may be exchanged with your grocer for anything he sells.

We will send this complete Fruit Drier (freight paid to any part of the United States) and the

WEEKLY EXPRESS,

One Year, lor $5.

GEO. M. ALLEN,

Publisher The Express,

BEST IN THE MARKET

Convenient. All the Latest Improvements. Easiest Operated.

26,765 SOLD IN 1888!

Also a Full Line of Hardwood

Ice Boxes T^efri^ereitors!

C. C. SMITH,

3

No-Extra Fires.

Always Ready for Use and Will Last a Lifetime.

Easily and quickly set off and on tbe to a empty or filled witb fruit.

W Order in clubs of four aod save height.

Terre Haute, Ind.

is

OVRR A 1JOT FIRH.

GBT THE POPULAR

Cor. Third and Main Streets.