Greencastle Herald, Greencastle, Putnam County, 3 January 1922 — Page 2
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THE GREEftCASTLE HERALD
TUESDAY, JANUARY 3, 1922
The HERALD
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m Second Clav sail mattM Graeacaitl* led, poatoSca. i. »«-,« j Arnold Propriatai Hl.isRF.I) EVERY AFTERNOON Sunday at 17 and 19 S. Jacktoa Straat, Greancaatla, lad. PELEPHONE CS Tarda of Thaaaa •.cr4» of Tfcanka ara chargaaila at a of 99c aack.
OMtnarica.
The Face In the Mirror
mlrro*- la a new »r,<1 not altogether
plan-lt.g light.
"You i# not (jitlle ao min-h die arti- < le I vatjtotl !»► I loot, you to be " ho ob»er*ed. aa he baago;! the drawer to. Kelt fcome mrt of n.orblo farclnatior. abo.it the o.iiTor canned btui to take! It often from the draae!. ^fe canae j to look iipnii it with lOMthln*. and ea< h | tlni# that uncouth fa-c iirerecl b}t> k | a: him he felt creepy sei.aatlona of ! alteiuate warmth anil cbitl; yet no { •trong, »a« the apell it cast oter hie t
nan unable to
lha: the >elec!ton had raquired tiuie j keep hta mind from it.
u
O
It was Caverley'ti intention to select a ine^ei.t for hi» ladylove's birthday — no otiHnaiy. i iirnMttiona! little gift. _
but sometliing «bi»'li would ahow be. | tielier senaet* that he
ai d -eat ch. soiuethlug yon couldn't i rce d >ii'«yed in the windows or ad I teriired in the maga/incs. somethir.g
to bring itie color to her cheeks and the sparkle to bet eyes, and cause
ben*, charge of 9c a line m made fot ;
* woetrv.
r—r—
IjONO Tl'fP COW MTS.
YVttli W'hat They Aimi»e 1 lieuiselre»
In Piis.io.
As a warder of Dari moor once eaM to the writer, "You get all kinds up here.'' Convicts are not all tie abandoned rufliaio which th< > are so often described to be. And • no of the best proofs of this is the widespread love of animals that • xtsts among them. It is no unconanion thing to find during severe weather that prisoners are suxiug ermoos from their bread to fi-ed the bird.' with. And such an a< t is real selfdcnlal, for a hij', burly mi.n. who has hewn hard at work all d;.\ in a Portland quatri or upon I tart moor I arm. dotw not hud his rations any more than be can comfortably consume. You will always find a few convicts In every hip prison who appear to possess a peculiar power over animals There wag a man til) at Parkhurst « few years ago. who sot-tip .i to he able to charm birds. Sparrows would come into his cell at any tlnne, perch on his head utid !«"d out ©nt. of his hands. And yet this man was serving a fifteen-year sentence for a crime so hrutal that 'me cannot here even mention its nature. Talking of birds in prison cella, a pretty story conies from Stockholm. A convict serving a long sentence in tiw State prison at Stockholm, mun*<ged to tame n pair of robins -n completely that the confiding little redbreasts not only came la and out of hir cell constantly, but actual ly built there. When he saw what was happening, the convict asked to ■be allowed to -ee the governor. ! Implored him to order that the birds should be left alone. The governor •Taiited the request and he certain) sever bad reason to regret lua action. Tbo convict, previously sullen ?nd dangerous, became the most tractable man in the prison. He «nok tbe keenest delight in watching the visitors batch out four young •ties, and these in turn he tamed until they would come to him at a v hUtle. Gradually the convict's character changed entirely, and two yi-ars after the first visit of the robins he ■was released on tickeb-of-leave. There was an amusing scene one 'day in January, 1903, in an Isle of Wight train. Four grown men tvere •ecu on their 1'aiid.s and knees in a third-class carriage, apparently huntlug vigorously for something. In<;airing what was the matter the •t!ard found that the object of their •eurrh was a mouse. The men were relented prisoners from I’arkhursr, and the mou.e had escaped from one of them. Fortunately its owner managed to r. rapture It unhurt, and when he hail done so, he carefully replac.rd :t inside In- cap. He said that, the little creature had been h.s constant fiiciid and companion for two years past, and it had become «*> tame that it would sit in his open hand and eat the crumbs with whi<h he fed It. Ho could not bear to leave his pot behind in the prison and so was taking it with him. An elderly “lifer” at Dartmoor, ; farmer by prof, ssion, has an amn..:Ing way with animals. There is a large flock of sheep belonging to t ■ prison and those are ue- old fellow's epeclal care. When lambs ire leif motherless ho feeds them .o car - fully that he seldom loses one, and It Is a pretty sight to watch the lambs following him about. The farm collies are also attached to the prisoner and he loves his charges so w«*U that he has lost all wish for
liberty.
ju* •utuarias aro chargoablo at tha
r»v» of g] for *acn obityary. Addi- 1 t . ( .. ! 0<n ,; a j tl i:
■\c »e searched all over the city for ll. haven't you. dear old hoy"’ To this end lie -pent many afierr.oons in queer places pawnbrokers’ shop-. • nio stores, art establishmems. etc., bin bis search was for a long time in vain. lie could find polking to suit hi* needs, for the thirg- lie found out of the ordinary would not gratify tier taste, and the things which would suit her ta.:te
were i(mi ordinary.
lie hud well-nigh given up further search and decided to go back to & little store oi. Broadway and pur- < >is< ;ui hourglass of quaintly carved ivory lie hadn’t the faintest idea to w hat use -he could put it—when a lucky ctiato e changed his plans. M< was pii-.-ing an auction room, wkotc a notice hoard Haunted ow.i tlie door and a shabby man with | leather lungs haw cd forth an an- j noiinecmcnt that the entire stock of) treasures inside would be sacrificed at auction at 3.30 p. m.. ami In the Kamo breath he invited the passers by
to stop in and inspect it.
More from idle curiosity than any thing else. Caverley went inside. There was ibo usual array of vases and chinaware. siatuottes and rather glaring lamps, lie wandered about, every article boforo which Cavcrley
made a momentary pause.
"Delft, sir, genuine Delft,” the little man was saying, as ho held up some hideous tilue plates, when Caverley interrupted linn with an excla-
mation of surprise.
His eye had fallen on a silver handmirror. and he picked it up and ex-
amined it tprcfully.
"The very thing," he said to himself; then, turning to his self-appoint-ed guide, “How much?" Everything was to he sold at the auction, the man explained. Still, if the gentleman desired it very* much, and found it inconvenient to come
In the afternoon —”
'T do.” said Cavcrley. shortly.
“How much?"
How much did he think it was worth to him? Caverley named a price, and the other made haste to
When her birthday came, Caveivey took her the hourglass and made no rfiention of the mirror. Indeed tie spoke of it to no one. for lie felt an inteii-e disg is! at his own actions regarding It. Yet every night be brought it out and tuiued it. about un til the face he had eome to hate stared hack at him. 'Hien. with » curse, he will,Id throw t! Into the drawer and paced the loom until be was tired out. In time lie die' overed that the mirror inust be held in a certain posttion for tbe fa<c to appear. Otherwise It gave normal reflectlona. His diseovery cave him a certain courage. It took away some of the weirdness of the tiling, and suggested the prosaic course of inquiring into the origin of the curio ® He sought the manager of the auction room, who, with a smile and a how professed entire ignorance of the source whence the mirror had come. Caverley taking out a ten-hollar note, dipped it in two with his pocket scissors, and handed one-half to the
auctioneer.
This half is now useless to me ” be said, "but it will he worth ten dollars to you when you discover who
sold you the mirror.”
Some weeks passed and Caverley studied the mirror In a practical way. He noted that It was of unusual thicknesss, and this arysused his suspicions. •'I'll take it to pieces," said lie, and this he proceeded to do. It took considerable time and patience to work the back loose without damaging the I glues; but. by dint of perseverance, he managed it. Back of the glass, he found a shallow metal pan. He attacked this, and In a few minutes had separated it from the nitrror proper. The pan removed, the whole matter was plain. Set slantwise beneath the beveling on the right hand side wae an arabrotype of the face he knew so well. The picture extended perhaps a third of the distance across the mir ror, and was covered with a thick plate of glass, -o that looking squarely into the mirror reflection was normal, but by sloping it to the rght until the ambrotype was horizontal the face wi'h the scars appeared. Caverley took the ambrotype ’>o the light, and stood looking at it for some
time.
‘'Whoever you are." said he. “you're
Hanged the Shoemaker. During the struggle between Klnc Charles and the parliament Pembroke castle was so well fortified that Cromwell, with all bis cannon, «ould not rake it. Atter many failures he gave up his Intention, a r.d began to inarch on -for Tenby; bu* before he had proceeded far a country shoemaker came up to Cromwell and asked him whefa. •i he would reward him if he would tell him hew to get the castle Into his possession. Cromwell, very s iad 0 f this offer, consented; then the old shoemaker, •find to get some money, a. s no doubt be was rather poor, told him that there wae a pipe through which they got their wafer, in.d that if he were u» cut the pipe, tii ■ castle would surrender. Cromwell guid: "1 thank you for tfce Information you have given me. »*ut os you have turned traitor to your countrymen the only reward 1 will give you Is that you shall be banged on the very next tree that I «ome to.” Cromwell had the shoemaker hanged and cut Che pipe he bad told him of. ieftdtng to the '•* t.'e, v*!j,cu thru turret, Jerod. —w-rv... *i-iJ2DC'; "U.
take It. A few moments later, with | not an attractive chap; but I'd double
that ten dollar rote to find out. about
you.”
The matter »a« rapidly slipping from his mind when one day the manager of the auction-room culletl on him and brought with him an elderly gentleman, whom Caverley Judged rightly to be ft lawyer. “That mirror,” tbe elderly gentleman said, when the matter on which they had called was broached, “was the property of a client of mine, a Miss Damon. It was sold, after her death, with a lot of other personal property not disposed of in her will. There's a queer story about It, but i don't know that 1 can tell It correctly, for it was told to me in fragments w henever my client cared to mention the subject, which, I can assure you. sir, was seldom Indeed. As well as I can piece these bits together It wos something like this: “Many years ago her family lived in the South, and there she met a young physician, who became greatly attached to her. It seems an epidemic broke out, and the doctor risked his professional reputation in getting the Damons away, and through the 'quarantine' which had been established, lie remained there, and eventually was struck down with the disease, which left him with a number of scars. Upon his recovery, he wrote Miss Damon telling her of this, .and she replied in a letter filled with expressions of deepest sympathy; scars of the skin, ahe wrote.>;ould not mar the soul, and bade him come to her, but, somehow, the letter miscarried, and be never received it. He waited for the answei through several months, and then wrote her saying he w-as going abroad to bury himself somewhere on the Continent She was right, he said, to consider him dead. He sent the mirror at the same time. There wasn’t much to tell, and I fear I have hardly done It justice,” the lawyer concluded. Caverley, with great patience, put the mirror together again, and that evening, he took It to the lady for whom be bad bought It, and told her the story. And she, being a ayrnpa thetlc little woman, wept—R B. SHELTON.
hie purchase in his pocket, he was hurrying up the street. It was a queer little mirror. The back wits of oxidised silver, quaiiuiy embossed—an impossible Ouptd reaching out for a laurel "Wreath which completely surrounded him. Several sprays of laurel trailed from the ends of the wreath, and these were twisted round and round to form the handle A unique Idea and rather a good bit of work, Caverley thought, as he ex amined the mirror carefully at his apartment. Assuredly, it would bring the sparkle ?n her eyes, and assuredly she would tell him what a dear old boy he was to take so much trouble in her behalf. The Cupid was such a fat. contented-looking little god that he laughed aloud! Symbolical, too, It seemed to him. for theirs had been a contented affair of the heart. Surely, it wna the very thing for a present
to her.
Fot some time he sat turning the minor about in his hands, making jocular comments now and then to j the emvreathed Cupid. Then, suddenly, he sat holt upright, with a strange expression on his face. He had glanced into the mirror, end the reflection he beheld was not that of his own features. Me could scarcely believe his sight. He looked again. The face he beheld was one from which he shrank; a strong, firm face It might have been at some time, but now it was disfigured by hideous scars He laid the mirror on a near-by table, and sprang from his chair. He knew it was weakness, but for the life of him he could not help walking over to the glass on his shaving table and glancing Into It. It was his own face that met his gaze, and he was heartily ashamed of the sigh of relief he gave as he saw It. He returned to his chair and picked up Uie mirror. Again he glanced Into It. This time It was his own square, clean-shaven face which looked hack
at him.
"Well, 1 am a fool,” said he, and turned the mirror over. Tbe Cupid favored him with the smile which was Its perpetual attribute, and s', that Caverley laughed easily, and put the mirror In a draw
•r
Some evenings later he again look ed at the mirror. As he turned it about he was aware that the same face was looking back at him the face with tbe scars, and the eyes which seemed u> be half reproachful, half pleading "Good Heaven!" snid he, and laid the mirror down rather suddenly. Then, thoroughly dugusted at his chlldishnesv be picked it up again This laae, as be peered Into it, be raw lb* reflection of his own fa*e. “Tat*." | e announced to the Cupid “ “ ♦ ' lea! ' line of Indigestion. Take T! ' unj-ft piHs, yoi. know." >‘ct v :,- , i. ,-e wi'h a s'.r.nge X-’lr* cf u> .• is; be reg w-ded the
Egyptian Hieroglyphics. Tbo hieroglyphics of old Egypt consist of figures of onjocts animate and inanimate, men and animals, or parts of them; plants, the heavenly bodies, and an Immense number of different weapons, tools and articles of the most general character. The figure* are arranged in upright columns or horizontal bands, and are to be used in suoceeaion. It is now generally believed by the scholars that the Phoenician and Hebrew alphabets are both borrowed from these hieroglyphics, and that the wonderful people of the Nile were tbe firr' n ventor* of alphribertcu! wilting
Caul Arxlnif draw » fin * nig i id relief, as tie laid the leticr be had been reading on the table “Sh* says that she will ninie and tale charge of the bo;i*« and Aliic.” he meditated. "1 must have some one. and » pool' little old ninid like her will lie very siad of a comfortable home With romantic virions of hunt lift tv'* nieue fare floating through bB luitKle e>e. and a bundle of ni»|:a. to shield the "dear little woman" from rain, under one arm, while * miuiinioth umbrella w:is held firmly fn por tion hr the opposite baud, Paul Ancfriis started for the station, nor did he arrive ft moment too toon. tj.ilte a number of gentlemen stepped out of the train, but only two solitary female figures One was a dumpy little woaian with a puff of snowy buir showing under the vim of her ancient bonnet. Then was a worried look in th>- en-s. t iiiMil inquiringly upon the strange fa<-» > about her "Please, inarm be you Hetty ll- tty—1 forget the other name," said an awkward coachman, approaching hi "Yes.” she said, with an emphatic nod. "I'm Hetty. How kind of my nephew to scud atidii u fine earring for fiu> lie inns; be rich to afford ii." Paul Andrus had not heard their conversation, for after mentally u* iding (hat the “dumpy little woman" wjvk "“oine one's grandmother." he glanced about fn seuich of his "Aunt Hetty.” A pretty girlish face, with a tangle of nut-brown hair escaping from the coil nt the back of her head, and a world of trouble in the blue eyeattracted his attention. "It must, he she,” Paul soliloquized. There wore only two ladies off here, and the other is disposed of. What a pretty Kttle creature she . Don’t look a day over eighteen. I never thought it possible for a woman to preserve her youth like Jhat. It's risky business taking her home. I’m afraid that I shall fall in love witn my Aunt Hetty. It'll never do for a great *ix-foofer like me to call her aunt. ‘Your name is—ahem! Hetty. I beiieve?” he said, in evident confusion, as he approached the lady, quite forgetting to spobk her surname in his embarrassment. “Oh yes!" she snid. quickly, in tones of relief. "I am Hefty, and you have been sent for me. 1 am so glad. I was quite worried for .i minute. for fear my letter had miscarried; and I ha. i- such a terrible headache.” “Your letter came all right," he said, cheerfully, beginning to wrap her in the waterproof he had brought. "I am so sorry that 1 have no carriage," be continued; "but it is only a little v ay, and 1 will see that the rain does not touch you. Ah!” he exclaimed, coming to an abrupt stop, "the crossing is bad here. My dear” —"aunt.” he was about to say. when, glancing info the sweet, pathetic young face, he checked himself Instantly. "Madam,*’ seemed too reserved, and, after a slight pause, he added—"Hetty, I think you will have to let me carry you. Such a wee little woman as you are, I cun do it nicely.” Without waiting for her to object, and almost befoie she had realized what he was about, he hud lifted her in his strong arms, and had borne her across the muddy crossing. "What a splendid fellow he is!” Hetty thought, with a shy glance Into his face. "She has always been sounding her brother’s praises tn ray ears at school, but I never thought he could be so genial. It is strange that he did not introduce himself; and I don’t quite like his familiar manner in calling me Hetty. But 1 presume he feels quite well acquainted with me through Sue, though I shall stand on my dignity and show him that there is a proper" way of forming an acquaintance after fo-nigbt. I am too queer now for anything. 1 don’t believe I would care much If he carried me all the way In his arms. 1 don’t understand why he didn’t bring the carriage, though.” All these conflicting thoughts made a tangle of Ideas in the girl’s mind, and her head was aching so badly that she did not attempt to straighten matters. "1 think I can persuade her to remain,” he thought, complacently, and he banished all troublesome doubts on the subject. “Can It be that Sue’s papa has failed In buslm-ss, and lost his property?” Hcity asked herself, as they entered a pretty )tH>e cottage, not at all like the fine residence Sue had described to her .so many times. “No carriage, or coachman. Poor Sue’ It must be that reverses have cone ■' she deciib'd. On en.ering the wee, cosy parlor, Hetty t'lri'ed to her escort, and said, pitif ■. y "•'an I be shown to iny room at on ' ' I .un q'i :e ,il and must rest be,., i I meet the family. Tell my tie;, e that I will see her in rhe oioru'ui;;." A dreadful doubt began to creep into > ..al And.os’ mind. Wes it possible that a mistake had been made. One glance Into the girl's pallid face assured him that it was no f-nie t ix, t fy ;he mistake than .'tod she rue: x» t to hi u; op'-e ** Pl» : nr Imo the ha'l. and. clor .-.g
tbe doer beb'ad him. he went to tte dining room. A roguish rhi!4 of eight ye*ia came noisily feiwa ci to meet him. “Hue our Aunt Hetty come? I emit io »ee her thl* minute! eh* ci it-u. quickly. "Hash, denr'" SftTd Paul, gently "She ta ill wiih a headache. You must take her to tier room »* quickly m possible. Yu i may k:s* her goodnight. If you wish.” he added, aee ng ibe wlatful look in the « hUd's eye*, "but dou’t cull her nunt. KeuieftOber dear. 1Ye sbail no doubt see liei quite well tn the morning ” “Brother say* that you- are ill.' *tiu Allie appearing at the door to grid* Hetty to her room. "1 fttu to •bow you the wav to ymir room. 1 think you are Ju*t «* sweet and -and beauittfu! as you can be, and 1 aha!! love you very much!" "You are a dear little girl!” said Hetty, stooping to kir.s ibe bright face good-night ftt tbe door of her room, "and I aball love you a treat deal when my bead Is better. Hear me!" she added, when the child wa^ gone. "I never was so confuted and bewildered tu all my life* Sue never told mo that sbe bad a little eikter What does it all mean and whe r e i* Sue?” Paul Andrus was pacing tbe floor In the deepest pei-plexity when Hie door bell rang. Stepping into tbe hall, he answered the summons in person. “That’s my nephew !" said a voice, from the shadows, which were dense In that part of the place. “MeV got the Peters’ nose How do you do. Paul?" The dumpy little woman he had noticed at the station came Into the hall and began shaking him vigorously by the hand. "There's been x mistake Paul: but 1 don’t mind, for it gave me a ride in a splendid carriage Ibis rainy night. Ain't you glad to see your Aunt Hetty?” "Glad? Of course. I am!” he sail], dutifully, returning her caress, while a disappointed feeling crept into h: heart. "But. if you are my Aunt Hetty, who is Hie other Hetty si one I brought tiome with me?" "I reckon it’s the one they're expecting at the big house.' said Aim: Hetty, lietinnlng to untie her bonne "She can go back In the carriage." “But she has retired." said Paul; ■'and she ts quite ill with a headach* " “I d, believe—" began Aunt Hetty "Yes, i'lu certain that it's tny friend Mary'a daughter. I met her in t! train. No, she shan’t be disturb** Addressing the coachman, she i-j. "Go bai k and explain matters, ; you can c-otne for her in .the roon We'll take the very beei care < until you come." Hetty was awakened in the ing by a gentle hies dropped lips by a pair of rosy ones, w. were smiling beside tier as they looked up. My other Aunt Hetty has come.'' explained tbe child. She isn't pretty and sweet like you: hut she’s got nice, soft arms, and I shall love her, too I'm glad I've got two Aunt I let ties." "My dear." said a kindly voice, as the other Hetty came forward, “a mistake bas been made: but don't worry about it. Your mother'* daughter ia perfectly safe with aie." And another kiss was dropped on Hetty’s lips. In the parlor, a little later. Hetty met her escort of the evening before, and mutual explanations were exchanged; but when the II..ward carriage came for her. Allie burst into tears, exclaiming, indignantly "You shan't carry my sweetest Aunt Hetty off!" It was not until Hetty had promised to visit the little girl often during her stay that the child was pacified. Through Hetty’* influence, Paul Andrus was invited to picnics and other amuse.mentK at the Howards’ home, and Allie was made happy by more than one visit from “her sweetest Aunt Hetty,” who felt it her duty to please tbe child, and become better acquainted with "mamma's friend." But the real pleasure for herself was when the happy day was over, and Paul Andrus walked with her to her friend’s home. He always thouglit of some place of Interest to show her vfhlch the rest had forgotten, and, altogether, they were thrown fn each other’s society quite frequently. At last she was going home. Allie was Inconsolable, and Paul felt quite as bad as his little sister. The evening before Hetty's depav^ ture Paul rpenl at the Howards’, and during a quiet walk in the pleasant grounds he told her how dear she had become to him during the weeks just past. Then followed some whlspeied words which the writer did not hear; a delicious little silence, in which two hearts were viewing life in the halo of love’s golden light; and then Paul said: “1 was dreadfully disappointed when I learned that you were not my Aunt Hetty, but I am more than thankful now.” Aunt. Hetty proTvd to be & blessing In Paul Andrus’ home, as he bad prophesied she would; and when be brought the other Hetty home as his bride, little Allie'a cup of happiivess was “full to the brim." “My prettiest Aunt Hetty Is my sister now, and v.e’d rather have tier ao- wouldn't we, Paul?” "Of course, we would." he repliec, fondly. Both Hetties are blessings in Paul Andrus' home, and he often wonders how Allie and himself ever managed so long vhhout them. — ROSE THORPE.
An Aggravating Misunderstanding
It happeiud over a year fts<' v\ii»n I wa* spending my amnmer va'-atior. near Milton, on the Maine ioksI tvh* sojourning ftt » rural Ixia.idiny bouse. In which «cre several boarderr On* uioriiltir while out f°r »n early stroll. I made my way to a cliff overlooking the sea. While contemplating ihe beautiful marine vie* ft church i itc h nt »oaie distance i'ku* out th* hour of alx. It "ft* at e:i»l half a mile *i***7. and 1 wondered ifiat 1 could henr It so distinctly. The next in»tant 1 atarted vio'ei'jv and fa< ed round, for k womans shrill, penetrating voice, couimy tn a a distance had called; "Murder! Murder! Murder! Oh. he is going to kill ice!" For n moment, ms I looked cage.' h frantically around, 1 could ace no ID ing thing except » aolltary g ill " heel ing here .'»nd there and acute Indistinct fig. res on a country road, but then my eyes fell on a sight that u.&d*- tu> heart leap with fear ami horror. On one of the grassy hnoUs the tnoM distant but one, it see ned w ere a mail ami ft woman. I hey were both dressed in dark clothes are were far from distinct; but I could set that one \> as a woman. Hie other a
man.
Tin > were new about a yard apart, and the woman's anus were raised in trug'f gesture. T! eti 1 saw- the man slowly raise his ngfll hand. tiling that he held in it glittered in tbe slanting sun rays. The next instant hr* had stepped up to the woman and how distinctly 1 seem to hawseen It all! had plunged what wa evidently a weapon into her breast. She sank instantly to the ground Great heavens! Had she b* < n murdered before my eyes? Until now I had stood horror-st rich, en. rooted to the spot: but aa the woman dropped over his victim--! suddenly awoke to the full con-Hotis-ness of what 1 had seen 1 could hardly see the two now — they only made a blur in the too tided irve of the knoll: but, without the nst 1 bought of what I intended to i. 1 tore mildly down the ship. On 1 raced, gasping from my effort maintain my speed up the short >.t stiff ascents, for I am not an alhe. and a rapid run over such groan . us no light matter to me I had but one idea tn my mind - •*! reach the spot, where the w omar v, perhapH already dead, perhap* ring for want of aid. Tile brute! How 1 should like to ,ve my fingers at his throat, choking the life our of him' AYhat effrontery — whui audacity' With an air of exaggerated < ourt.e.y t . I .-id lifted I '* cap and wa« bowing io U * form. Then, turning, he ran across the meadows toward ihe io. that led to Milton. The though! that he should escape maddened me. and I rallied my almost exhausted power* for a final effort But 1 must go to the woman first perhaps she might be still alive and I could be of service to her. There was only the last dip between us now. and I could see her plainly. She was dressed in a aimpie dark gown blue serge or something of that kind -and a cap of Tam-o'-shanter covered tier face. She wan ’yib» qi’te rt!H and rigid, and the thought of what T might find under that cap filled me with horror. • Utterly spent, disheveled, h&tless. perspiring and panting violently,’ 1 sank down by the side of the prostrate form. I was about to remove the cap from the face when I received a shock which rendered me for the moment powerless. The cap was thrown aside, the gir: sat upright, and I found myself looking, not Into a face pallid in death, but into the bright, cheery face of u maiden with rosy cheeks and laughing blue eyes! "Ob, what is it?” she exclaimed. And there I knelt, or crouched, or lay—Heaven only knows what!—still panting like a primitive steam-engine and unable to utter a word. "What is It?” she said, again. “Are you ill ? What is the matter?” ”1—I—I—" It was no use—I hao nothing to say. I couldn’t tell her 1 had seen her murdered—she was so obtrusively alive! “Have you been running? Are you 111?" She had risen now and stood looking down at me; she was a mere girl “I think I had better go to the nearest farmhouse and get some water for you—would that do you good?” “No—-please don’t!" I gasped. ‘“If —you—will—excuse mo two minutes —I shall be—all right. I—am—wind-d-ded!" And for two minutes there we were, she standing, I lying on the grass gradually recover ire from tny breath less condition. But 1 was absolutely dumfounded. I didn't know what to think. There wa„s not a shadow of a doubt that I had heard a woman cry out "Murder! " It had been so distinct! And t had seen tb« fellow atrike her! Why confound it all l had aeen the knife !n his hand’ There could be no doubt—. 1 happened to look up. Weil, thero could he no doubt that this g'.rl wf.H not only alive, but qniti imir, Jured. Then* nae but one coutve open H m- tha - of abject apology. So when I could speak rationally I began: “1 ala afraid my actions are rcost iDconipiehcpsibi- to you, Miss- *>' -r
——She looked dawn at her arr^. In kiudlcd alla&ca, and ao t went j "Hat ai well, tn* tact »*, I thu ig‘ v I u*fti0 you call out— "
"I'all out!”
“!*« Indeed. I'm eura you dt«i *. teai'', that soma on* die' Murder' Mulder! .Murder!' some oua t-ai!^ Iitue-U war awfully •mpiti of uii- o’ cc r-e but I thought ! ftftw Hiat feUv *
•trike you."
B: • laughed merrily. "It certainly wk* rather rtiipij. j W h> that whi Jack my .tael,: an: I again *he looked (ton ti and fl mbr Idem,.rely. "1 don't think he i» like ' to wi'ihe me ai any rate, no, just y*. I you know!" this hIuiosi *011,, voi » : "Bui I Conner wl.ai you l ouhi bav ; be.11 r and Reel;! And you ran ail tl . (way from the cliff to reteue me fro;., a ho.rib’e death? ll wa' twi>. i*. ! k ;iu of you. and 1 ibft.ik you veiuiuih quite as much hr ar if vr.' j bad not beef! niirtukcli you knon (i 1, it ir too gt uero it, of you j nay I!,:;;! l! ir ro good of you to ft g;><- ne for (■ -for ini* intrusli
upon von. : Not at hi ' ll really was kind ' you >01 know perhaps more Hi,, , kDid'and she ia;.«e<l her eyes, a: 1 for a iim.eni our glance* met. I r arted. What wa* it. Inrkiug r, tins, h!.'c depth*? War it umue: p.< ni 'A iis ii mischief? i'. , the ncvi inomer. the g. 1 luwed her eyelids, arid the Musli in h*Co cel; deepen* D ;*. little Sb« did 11 '..rii w:ty. but stood there poking f j gi a*s ft, h her shoe- Biie made x um '. • iia tiling picture I moved 1. ! M.ird ner li H:l the way home and for si - 1 :J .uys afterward 1 thought at thoi,!-i ’ and tbought of this sUntie little dint, and especially of tt. ■ iuisi! ,cions gleam in those hitie eye, tuid I Oicieicil if 1 had licen trickcc ilnu -io* he. p lying there laughiny uodci ha’ Tum-o-Hlitiniuf at my maul 1 ac 7 VY< ;l, the exp anatioti of It all carom 1, w ay ■ lati - j staying in u suiue Uoardlng-hous, la- tny elf wn« pretty little girl will. ! vrlnjiu I hail i" io,ne rather ebuntm.v j a f, low is apt t<* do so at these ] times and on - day v lien 1 wae with [her sic reiu- -,ed- a letter from a 1 friend of inis who was KtayiUK Ir i Millloi s; that .-he was takins ! part it, so.a*- amateur theatricals U ho gi\ u .n :t pt’blie hall for the hemj fit of ome local charity She es | dosed .-otu* vicl-< ts. M> ipipaiiioii. of roiir.ue. < xplainci | it all to me, and naturally caougf perhaps we went. It w k a rather poor *how. Tb- a Hmairtur* luul made a singular selei tion for the piece wan an old-faahioc-ed lurid melodrama > i-amined witi ticlden:. But my r-oinpanion * friem a Mist Nora Dayton." according t U.e prigramme, fiau » big part, at- i wuf reil'.y Kixul In It. Gradually Hie plot. »a.s worked u; and in due time the third act wu reaches. Here wo were evidently ir for something supremely scunutiun: for the programme gave the scec •
as:
"N ght on a lonely moor." Up went the curtain and on caa-r iny companion'*- friend, flurried and frightened looking A lew rumlim live sentences—not remarkable fiK their originality- were uttered, sad then a man entered, young and heroic-looking. Yolubie talking followed, at. fi.r-t pas*Innately loving, then passionate'.ingTr. \nd then came this astonish ing incident. The girl threw up her hands tragi tally. The man stepped ha, k and put hi* uand Into the breast of hi. coat. "Murder' Murder! Murder!” the girl shreked. "Oh. he is going b kill me!"—and her shrill voice echoed back from the end of the room. The raan raised hi* hand above hi* head tir*; plunged a stiletto into th* breast the g : rl, who dropped Ir sfantly at his feet. It wa* exactly the sceni that I hai witnossM from Ilunton's (Tiff. What happened after this point it the play I haven’t the least idea, am, never had. The only things 1 reint :i her ar£i he uproarious applause tha’ greeted the conclusion, a pair of laughiag mischievous eyes looking a me over the footlights, and my companion Kylng; “I imift stay and speak to Nora ancongratulate her! Isnt she clever? I was not loath to remain, and s In due ourae I was introduced te “Miss Pi.yton" and her fiance—“Mr Lu&ard- he horrid murderer!” Miss 1 ayton gave no sfgn of reco* nltton, and the two girls chatted on. "You did that murder acone ju*l splendidly, Nora!” "Did P Well, so we ought to hav« done, for Jack and I have rehearse, it no eiul Do you know, we actuals got ip at fiv*—five! one morning whet Jac k hr.'. 1 to go to Maehlaas on bus ueiis, and rehearsed it in a lonely spot near Hutton’s Cliff. And I shriekee Murder! ’ ao loudly that I really bt lleve I , ould have been heard at Million.' Once again the mischievous glca ,,) was In the blue eyes as they met mice. 1 laughed—rather uneasily. l.ugard l&ughed also. "You have a penetrating voice Miss Pajton." I said. ”1 hope rot * 111 allof* me to congratulate you on your perfor.nnnee I think I car honestly ay that I have never beformet a Italy In privwU, life with sue'.t...: l:ed histrionic ability!”
• >c,t a New InvenUoft It ik ■ liiiied that a way has ; fo.M.d o, tu ti eoft coal smoke Iu‘ u 'n*. Nnbc, ly will doubt tt who c''<r ' verveu what a upc, k of si*'! coni' 1 ' '(> a hi .! ol ur.