Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 34, Number 15, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 May 1888 — Page 1

TOL. XXXIY-TO. 15. INDIANAPOLIS, WEDNESDAY, MAY 10, 1888. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR.

ßStrai7eTessaöe

DORA RUSSELL, Author of "Footprints is the 6now," "Tna Broke?? Seal," "The Vicah's GOTESNE.S.S," "AxXAEEls KlVAL." ICopjTishiei!, 1331 CHAPTER VI. WHAT HS CALLED FATH. THEY carried Nordown the steep hill on one of the cushions brought from the boats, Jock Fraser, Alick and Biddulph alone being her bearers. Young ralcolm had now ar- - rived on the scene, in a pitiable state of emotion and excitement anel would fain have assisted. But his "father saw at once he was too much agitated to be of any real service. "No, my lad, he Eaid, laying his brown, bony hand on his son's broad shoulder ; 'the way you can help Nora most is to make the best nse you can of your young legs, and run down by the loch-side to Balla, and tell Dr. Alexander to go on at once to Bossmore, so that we shall find him there when we reach the little pier. You had best go at once, Malcolm;" and x the young man, after one more distracted glance at Nora's white face, obeyed his father, and started off at headlong speed down the hill. s - Then poor Nora was carefully lifted on the cushion, Biddulph. holding fast the trembling little hand. "You stay close to me," she whispered, lifting her dark eyes a moment to his face. . lie grew a little- palej, and his lips moved, but neither Jock rior his wife, who also were bending over Nora, heard any word. But he took his place by her side, and no one disputed it. He arM Jock Fraser carried the end cf the cushion on which Nora's head rested, and Alick Fräser the other end. It was a somev. hat perilous descent ; but . Alick, strong and ptnrdy, and good cragsman, never placed his foot down without Jesting the ground. They reached the boats, therefore, without further accident, and poor Nora, still on her cushion, was lifted in; and almost as they started on their homeward journey the mist, as Biddulph had prophesied, came creeping down the mountain-side, Rnd began stealing over the darkening water of the loch, producing an indescribable chilliness and change of atmosphere, and a little shiver passed through Nora's frame. "You are cold," saidJBiddulph ; and he asked lor the fur carriage-rug, and wrapped it carefully round her, and doubled a cushion, on which he lifted her head. Mrs. Conway-llope was looking after her own comforts, and Mrs. Jock Fraser after her Minnie, who had disappeared somewhere in the mist, with Lord Glendovne by her feide. Jock and Alick were helping to push off the boats, but Biddulph never left Nora. He sat on one of the cross eeats, where he could support her and hold Ler in her place; and he held her hand all the way as they were rowed down the loch, until the little palm grew warm under the f urrug, and Nora's heart was beating fast. "Is the pain any less now?" he asked with unconscious tenderness in his voice, bending over her a little more closely. "Yes, it is not so bad." "I shall never forgive myself for taking you up there." "But it wa3 1 who wanted to go ; and and I owe you my " he could not complete the sentence. Tears rushed into her eyes, and a choking fob rose in her throat. She owed him this best gift, then her life, and Nora knew it would have been less sweet from any other. He did not epeak ; he clasped her hand tighter and turned away his head, and Jock Fraser, whose honest brown eyes happened at this moment to be rested on Biddulph, wondered what had caused the great look of pain that passed over the man's face. It was almost dark when they reached the little pier at Kossmoro, but through the mist thej' could discern that there were figures waiting for them. The doctor was there a tall, gaunt Scotchman and Malcolm Fraser, pale and still half breathless, as he had run the whole way to Balla at utmostspeed. He wa3 waiting to pull in the boats now or rather the boat where poor Nora lay, for he saw, or at least heeded no other. He helped to lift Nora on the pier, and took his Uncle Alick's place in carrying, her up the hill to the house at Bossmore. It wa3 a melancholy home-coming. She had gone forth so gay and full of joyous expectation and excitement, and was now returning pale, exhausted, almost in a fainting condition; and as soon as they reached the hall at Itossmore, tho doctor stepped to the front. "Now, Mrs. Jock," he said, in his broad Scotch accent, to Mrs. Fraser, whose children he had attended since their first appearance in the world, "ye'll please, ma'am, to turn every one out of the room butyerself and-me. The voung leedy must not be worried, and Wre a sensible woman and I can trust ye. "All right, doctor," answered Mrs. Jock, and she stood by Nora's bedside when her injuries were examined, and the stockings cut from the small, slender white feet. The doctor looked very srrave when he Eaw the condition of the right foot. "We'll not ha' ye dancing any reels this winter, anyhow, Miss Stewart, he said ; "eh, my poor lassie, you mu6t ha' had a fearsome fall." "Shall I ever ba able to walk again, doctor?" aäkcd Nora, in a low tone. "Walk again? To bo sure ve will ay, and dance, too ; but ye'll ha' to bide a'wee ; we ha' a broken bane or two to deal With." Nora'ü right foot was, in truth, so terribly injured that, after doing all he could, Dr. Alexander drew Mrs. Jock aside. "If ye don't mind, Mrs. Jock," he paid, "and as the young leedy can weel afibrd it, I should like further advice from Bdinbro'. Ye see, the right foot is sare displaced, and my hand is not what it used to be, nor my sight either, for that matter." People said, indeed, that the poor doctor, during hi3 long, weary rides across brae and stream to the Outlying hamlets in the neighborhood, was too fond of stopping to refresh himself with tho "mountain dew" of his native landj and that on - one occasion he found, to his extrem surprise, a rosy babe nestling in the mother's arm, when he was quite unconscious of having assisted in placing it there on tho previous evening. "What bairn is this?" he asked, when the mother proudly showed the little head. ""Why, doctor!" cried the woman in the utmost astonishment. "Ay, ay, to be eure," said the doctor, who was shrewd, and began to nnderttand;"I needn't ask whose bairn. It's 1)3 living im3 of ye, and a bonnier bairn

I never saw;" and the woman sank back with a gratified smile. But in spite- of this weakness, the man was clever, well-read, and had a kindly heart. "One gets a bit down, ye know, Mrs. Jock," he used sometimes to say to his friend and neighbor at Airdlinn; and Mrs. Jock was always ready with her good word for the doctor. "If you had to ride twenty or thirty miles in a drizzling mist or a snowstorm, Alick, and most likely not to get paid for your day's work," the once said to her brother-in-law, "how would you like it? And even if the poor doctor does take a drop of whisky too much, it's hard to blame him." "Well, he'll be found in a snowdrift some day, Jeanie," answered Alick, with his cold smile; but Mrs. Jock sighed, and was ready to forgive-an over-worked, conscientious, and clever man his one failing. And she went downstairs to the drawing-room, where Nora's guests were waiting to hear tho doctor's opinion, with a very grave face. She beckoned to her husband as she entered the room, and he at once went toward her. "Jock," she said, "I'll not leave Bossmore until Nora Stewart can leave her room." "Well, my dear," he answered resignedly, though he knew it would be very uncomfortable without her. "How is she, Jeanie?" asked Alick Fraser, now advancing. "Very bad, I am afraid, Alick; Dr. Alexander wants a telegram sent the first thing in the morning to Edingurgh for a doctor." Mr. Biddulph heard the conversation, and a moment later approached Mrs. Jock. "What doctor does he want, Mrs. Fraser," he said, speaking sharply and quickly to hide his feelings. "I will ride to the station in the morning and meet the first train, if Dr. Alexander will namo the doctor he would like." "It is very kind of you,". eaid Mrs. Jock, who felt somewhat resentful toward Biddulph, as she thought ho must have led Nora into danger; "but some of us some of her own people, I think, had better send the telegram." . Biddulph bit his lips and stood silent. "I'll send a groom to meet the first train with a telegram," said Alick Fraser. "I'll go now and see Alexander, and consult what doctor to telegraph for." He quitted the room as he spoke, and again Mrs. Jock turned to her husband. "Now, Jock, my dear," she suggested, "don't you think you and the young people should be going home? The quieter the house is kept the better for Nora. I mean, of course, to stav." "But, my dear Mrs. Fraser, pray do not inconvenience yourself by doing so," said Mrs. Conway-llope. "I shall be quite able to manage without further assistance, until Nora is well." "Nora wishes me to stay," replied Mrs. Jock firmlv. "Oh, in that case " "We have settled it all up stairs," eaid Mrs. Jock; "and now I am going back to her, and wish you all good-night." She looked round for Biddulph, but he had disappeared. Lord Glendoyne, however, advanced and held out his" hand. "Will vou tell Miss Stewart for me, Mrs. Fraser," he eaid, in his slow, graceful way, "how deeplv I regret that such an unfortunate accident should have occurred, on what otherwise would have been a mot delightful day?" "I will tell her, Lord Glendoyne; and I hope you will look us up at Airdlinn." "I have already asked permission to do so. I shall certainly give myself that pleasure." "My husband, I am sure, will be pleased to see you. I mean to remain here for the present, with Miss Stewart. .Good-night." She shook hands with him, and then returned to Nora's bedside, who looked up with interest as she entered. "I hope they are having tea and everything down stairs that they require?" asked poor Nora, who was very hospitable. "My dear, I've sent them all away, Jock and the children among the rest." "Oh, Mrs. Fraser! And and Lord Glendoyne and Mr. Biddulph?" "Lord Glendoyne was just going as I came up stairs, and Mr. Biddulph had disappeared, so I suppose he is gone too. And now, my dear child, you must try to get to sleep, and not worry yourself about anv of them." ButN ora could not sleep ; the pain was too great, and the shock to her nerves too recent. And presently the doctor came in to have another look at her, and then went out to smoke his pipe on the terrace in the misty atmosphere, for he meant to stay all night with hi3 young patient at Bossmore. As he walked up and down, his tall, gaunt figure, visible only. when he passed the lighted windows, another figure emerged from the shade of the dark firs, and a moment later Mr. Biddulph had joined him. "I must introduce myself to you, Dr. Alexander," he said, raising his cap with that grave courtesy of manner which always distinguished him. "I am Mr. Biddulph of Dunbaan." "Ay ; the old colonel's nephew. I heard ye were in these parts." "I have waited to see you. I particularly wish to know what you think of Miss Stewart, as the accident happened while ehe was with me." "Ay, but she told me she owed her life to ye, Mr. Biddulph, and the tears were in her bonny dark eyes when fehowas telling the story. "What do I think of her? Weel, I'm sare afraid it's a bad job." "Is she so injured?" "Badly hurt. It will bo many along day before he can put her foot to tho ground." Biddulph did not speak ; but he was so visibly moved that the kindly doctor had a word of consolation to add. "And it might ha' been a deal worso but for ye ; the poor lassie might ha' been lying dead among the crags." "Will you tell her," began Biddulph, in a husky voice, "that I feel this most deeply ; that I trust and hope soon " lie could not end tho sentence; but tho doctor, with the fine delicacy of feeling which was part of his nature, hidden in tso rough a garb, understood. "I'll tell her, Mr. Biddulph. Eh, now," he added,,with a smile stealing over his large features, as he turned his shrewd eyes on Biddulph's face, "ye'd like to bear the pain for her, wouldn't ye? And so would I at your age, but not now;" and the poor doctor gave a rueful laugh. "Bear the pain?" repeated Biddulph, quickly. "I would bear a hundred thousad times the pain to spare her one pang. But what folly to talk thus! Any man would do the same." "Not they," answered the doctor, who was a bit of a philosopher; "man is a Belfish animal, as a rule, Mr. Biddulph, and doesn't like to put his limbs, or anything that effects his rsonal case, in jeopardy. Now, there's Miss Stewart, with a fine, sensitive, physical frame, yet sho's lying quieter than many a long-legged loon would do, if his foot was twisted as badly as hers." - "She has a noble natures-yon can see it on her face and all noble natures can endure." "To a certain point, yea; they can bear

the big troubles of life, though, better than the small ones. But it's a weary life, after all, Biddulph ;" and the doctor sighed. "Often a very bitter one," answered Biddulph. And the doctor wondered what bitterness had come to the lot of thi3 apparently fortunate man. They parted on friendly terms a few minutes later, and Biddulph went homo with a disturbed and heavy heart. "I meant to have eaid good-bye to-dav," he told himself gloomily, as he strained his eyes through the mist to watch tho twinkling lights in the house at Ilossmore, 33 his men rowed him across the loch: "but now it cannot be. Blind, irresisitiblo fate holds me fast, and the end is hidden from my sight." CHAFIER IX. alick's CLERK. Alick Fraser dispatched two telegrams early next morning. One to the surgeon in Edinburgh, that Dr. Alexandei wished to meet ; and the other to his own clerk at (ilasgow, who was named Mr. San'ord Hill. When Alick Fraser retired from the firm of shipbuilders, of which he was then the head, he did not invest all the largo fortune he had acquired in the somewhat unprofitable Highland acres that it had been his lifelong ambition to possess. He bought Lord Glendoyne's property, which was then in the market; but the bulk of his money was left in the busy city where he had made it. Ho was tho owner of houses, railway shares, canal shares and steamers. In fact, he was rich ; and though he assumed the laird at Inismore, in Glasgow he was still a shrewd, clever man of business; and Mr. Sanford Hill, at a humble distance, followed inhi3 footsteps. Alick, in his telegram, had summoned Mr. Hill to Inismore, and on the following day Mr. Hill arrived. A little dapper man this, with a round face, fresh comflexion, and eager greenish-blue eyes. Ie had light, short, sandy hair, and was universally in Glasgow called Sandy Hill. He had never before been invited to Inismore, and was pleased and proud to receive this token of his employer's favor. "Well, Sandy," said Alick, who was sitting writing, looking round when "Mr. Hid" was announced, but not rising. Then he held out his hard, strong hand, which was clapped with respectful fervor by his clerk. "And wlfit do you think of the place?" asked Alick, now moving his chair, so as to have a fuller view of Mr. Hill. "Princely," replied Mr. Hill, almost in a tone of awe, glancing around Alick's well-furnished room, and finally fixing his round eyes on the decorated ceiling; ""no other wörd would do, Fir princely!" "It'8not bad," said Alick, with suppressed pride. "Not bad? Ha, ha, ha!" laugaed Mr.Hill, unable to control his delight. "That is like you, sir always a joke; not bad, not bud, indeed!" "And yonder is my brother's place," continued Alick, rising and proudly pointing across the loch to Airdlinn ; "there is the old roof-tree under whic h I was born." Sandy's face became instantly grave. "It's inspiring, sir," he said: "I call it absolutely inspiring. The ancient family home in view of the princely residence, raised by energy, sir, genius, sir, industry, dr; you have 'em all' "Well, I've not worked for nothing, Sandy, eh?" smiled Alick. "You've.only got your due, sir; ahead like yours must win a marvelous head!" "One requires a long head." "Yes, yen ; one requires it a shrewd, long head and a mind, sir. The mind must be there." "I want you to use yours, then, Sandy, at the present moment. I have sent för you on a little business." "I hoped so sir," answered Sandy, doing his best not to betray his disappointment. He had hoped that Alick liad intended to f ay him a compliment by inviting him to nisraore, though he knew this was not Alick's way. "There is a man who has lately arrived here," continued Alick, beginning to pace the room with his stalwart steps ; "a new man, whose past history I want to find out. He is called Biddulph ; and his uncle, the late Col. Biddulph, left him a place across the loch named Dunbaan; and 1 have a motive for finding out all about him. Do you understand " "Perfectly," said Sandy, who had been listening with profound attention. "I want you to stay on here, then, for a few days; to mix familiarly with the keepers and others, and learn all you can." But Sandy's face had changed color at the word "keepers." "I would do anything for you, as you. know, sir," he said, shifting uneasily first one foot and then the other; "but as regards firearms, I'll admit, sir, I am nervous." Alick laughed his loud laugh. "I forgot you are a bit of a coward," he said. "Mix with the maids, then, man, if you like it better; only find out about Biddulph, and report it to me." "Do you wish the report to be favorable or otherwise, sir?" said Sandy, resuming his business habits. Again Alick laughed.. "Well, I'm not particularly fond of him," he said. "I understand," answered Sandy; "Mr. Biddulph's private life and character to be inquired into. Inquiries, of course, on , the quiet?" "Of course. And, Sandy, as these things cost money, there is 10 to begin with;" and Alick drew out from his open desk 10 sovereigns, which Sandy respectfully pocketed. "And I've been thinking," went on Alick, who never allowed auy fellings to stand in his way, "that it wouldn't do about here for you to be known to be in my direct employment. People would not be so open with you as I wish them tobe. You must assume another character, Sandy; be a painter, or a house-decorator anything. Sandy was not quite unaccustomed to carry on private inquiries. More than once he had ferreted out information that had been of great assistance to Alick Fraser; but to bo requested to assume a new character was rather startling. However, after considering a few moments, he had a suggestion to ofler. "1 ve a brother, sir," he said, "in a small wav as an upholsterer." lThe very thing!" cried Alick. "Be your brother for the next few days. Some of the upper bedrooms are not finished yet ; pretend to be taking an inventory of what is wanted. This will throw you with the women about the house, and you'll hear all their gossip. Not that I want to hear it, though," he added, "except as regardi Biddulph." "Only as regards Biddulph," repeated Sandy. "And now, I dare say, you want something to eat. I'll ring for my housekeeper, Mrs. Ker, and introduce her to Mr. 11 ill, the upholsterer, and tell her you are a most respectable man, quito to bo trusted;" and once more Alick Fraser laughed his loud laugh. Ho carried this programme out. Mrs. Ker, a comely, middle-aged widow, presently received her master's commands to treat Mr. Hill, tho upholsterer from Glas-

gow, well, and show him Ithe room3 that wanted furnishing and anything about the place that was worth seeing. "Don't be frightened of him, Mrs. Ker," said Alick, with his peculiar smile ; "he's a very respectable man." Mrs. Ker smiled, bridled and blushed. "Mr. Fraser always has his joke, you know," she said to Sandy, as she led the way to her own comfortable sitting-room, and there proceeded to refresh Sandy with Highland mutton and .whisky, to say nothing of oatcake and delicious butter. "This is a charming place, madam," said irfandy, pausing for one moment in his repast. "The scenery's fine, but it's dull," answered Mrs. Ker, w:ho had once been in Edinburgh, and loved the ways of towns. "But you'll have neighbors, "eaid Sandy, with his mouth full. "Few and far between, as tKe saying is," replied Mrs. Ker. "Mr. Frier's brother lives acrofcf the loch, and a new gentleman has come to that side lately, Mr. Biddulph ; but our nearest neighbor is Miss Stewart of Bossmore." "A young lady ?" asked Sandy. "Oh, quite a young lady, and considered handsome, though she's too pale for my taste." "Perhaps rhe and Mr. Fraser will be making a match of it," said Sandy, helping himself to a second time to oatcake and butter. "Oh, dear, no ! She's too young for Mr. Fraser, though he's a fine man. Thev do

say she and Mr. Biddulph are sweethearts ; Will JlAJi HI jAi OTl V. V fcJU. fc-O f ?y's gut up soino sad stories about jly ;"and Mrs. Ker cast down her only the him late eyes, "Another lady in the case?" asked Sandy facetiously. "So they say. But, Mr. Hill, you must take a little more whisky. after your long journey." "Not unless you'll join me, madam," said Sandy gallantly; and Mrs. Ker, having been persuaded to do so, became very communicative, and Sandy heard all he wanted to hear and a great deal more. Mrs. Ker's late husband's sister was upper housemaid at Dunbaan, and this young woman had spent the afternoon of the previous day with her sister-in-law, and told Mrs. Ker all about the mysterious lady who had arrived at Dunbaan; and the trees in the avenue which had been felled bv the master's orders because "a queer, outlandish woman's name" had been cut on the bark. "They do say, indeed," Mrs. Ker went on, waxing confidential, "that old Donald, the man.servant over there, heard this lady say that she was his wedded wife, though she was nothing particular to look at, I'm told ; and Donald said high words passed between them. At all events, he got rid of her pretty sharp, and Janet says he has never been" the same man to look at since so down-hearted and low." "And what is he like, this gay young party?" asked Sand-, whose spirits the whisky had now raised to jocoseness. "As fine a man as I ever saw," replied Mrs. Ker, who spoke -with authority, "with a noble look about his face, and carries himself well; and they say he has an open hand. It will be a great pity if he has let this person get some hold upon him." "Such things are, Mrs. Ker," answered Sandy, rather insinuatingthathehadbcen the victim of femafb wiles. "Yes, indeed," sighed Mrs. Ker. But enough of this conversation. Sandy felt he bad'not wasted bis time, and when, during tho eveniig, he had quite a talk with Alick Fraser, outride the house, so that no listening ear might have the benefit of his words, Alick was quite content with the information ho had acquired. "This is enough to settle tho fellow's pretensions," ho thought grimly. "I'll go to Bossmore to-morrow and have a talk with Mrs. Jock." In the meanwhile Leonora Stewart was enduring as bravely as she could the severe pain that at that time seemed almost too great to be borne. The doctor from Edinburg, as well as Dr. Alexander, had lookl very grave when he was examining her right foot, and candidlv admitted to Mrs. Jock afterward that he feared "the poor young lady might be slightly lame for life." And when "Mrs. Jock repeated this to Mr. Biddulph, who had called shortly after the doctor left, she noticed he grew very pale. This touched Mrs. Jock's kindly heart. "At all events," she said, "but for you the accident might have been much worse. Nora has told me exactly how it happened how you were urging her to leave the hillside, when, without speaking, she foolishly quitted your side and mounted on the loose bowlder that she expected was solid rock. She speaks very highly of your presence of mind in such a sudden emergency." ''Yet I alwavs feel as if I had injured her," said Biddulph. "Injury is better than death, at all events, Mr. Biddulph." "That is so. I am glad at least you are able to remain with her." "Oh, my good Jock is getting on very well witiiout me!" laughed Mrs. Fraser; but she was pleased. What woman, or man, indeed, fs not pleased to receive a veiled compliment? Y"et, later on in tho dav, Mrs. Jock's kindly feeling towards Mr. Biddulph again veered round; for her brother-in-law, Alick, arrived at Bossmore, arftcd with his story against their new neighbor. After inquiring about "Nora Stewart," as he called her, and having heard the doctor's opinion, and also that Mr. Biddulph had called, Alick imparted his news. "I say, Jeanie," he said, "you should give her a hint about that fellow. There's a very ugly story going tho round of the countryside about him." "About Mr. Biddulph?" asked Mrs. Jock. "About Mr. Biddulph, no les3. Folks Eays Mr. Biddulph is married, or that he ought to bo, and that a lady has been to Dunbaan and kicked up a tremendous row, and that Biddulph had to buy her silence." "Is this true, Alick?" said Mrs. Jock gravely. "Quite true, I'm told. Nora Stewart had best have as little to say to him as possible. I never liked the fellow." "If he is a married man, he has no right to pay Nora Stewart so much attention. I shall certainly tell her what you have told me." "It's only fair she should know. Goodbye, Jeanie ; love to Jock and Minnie when you see them." Mrs. Jock walked thoughtfully upstairs after her brother-in-law had left Bossmore. She was not a scandal-mongering woman, but, on the other hand, she was a rigidly moral one, and had not much forgiveness nor pity for those who strayed from the right path. Yet she felt this was an awkward story to repeat to an unmarried girl ; there might be some truth in it, but it might not be entirely true. But could she have looked into Nora's heart at thi3 moment she would not lon havo hesitated in doing what 1 she would have considered her duty. Lving there in great pain, what had given Nora courage heroically to endure it, and power to force back the moans which rose on her palo hps? A sweet, subtle, ßoul-pervading

thought a knowledge that ho who had saved her loved her, that he would gladly have borne this pain for her, and that his anxiety about her was very great. Dr. Alexander had to'ld her, in his homely, kindly fashion, about his talk with Biddulph on the night of the accident. "Eh, but young leedy, ye must soon get weel, or the poor fellow will go dement," he said, remembering, perhaps, the davs when he too, as a raw young Scotch lad, had sighed and loved. The poor fellow had indeed been unfortunate all the daj-s of his life. The son of a farmer, he had fallen in love during his studious youth with the pretty daughter of one of the small lairds in his neighborhood, and, though he had never spoken to the young lady his admiration for her had influenced his life. He had risen early and worked late ; for her sake he meant to become great, and started for London with 20 in his pocket, determined to laboriously climb the steep ladder of fame. Instead of which he very nearly starved. He struggled on four or five vears ; he learned his Janet (the laird's pretty daughter) was married, and he pave the fight up. He returned to tho Highland hills where he had been born, no richer, than when he went away. But he had," cf course, acquired knowledge, and he became a badly paid country doctor, instead of a highly fed London physician, which he had aspired to be. And he took a somber, but still a kindly, view of the world in which he had failed to gain success. "Every man cannot win," he used to say, sadly enough, speaking very good English generally when he philosophized, though relapsing into broad Scotch in ordinary conversation. And there was something in Biddulph's face which had taken the fancy of the clever, yet unfortunate man. He had read there indications of a loftier train of thought than he found amongst those with whoni he commonly associated. llow, strange it is! Even the words of a letter show signs of the human being that penned the lines. "We cannot quite disguise our nature, just as we cannot turn ugliness to beauty by spurious art. "We can make ourselves look better ; we can hide as best we can this fault or the other, and would have the world believe it is not there. But it peeps out; the mean man is mean still, in spite, of some ostentatious gift, and tho noble heart, noble still, though evil at times may have clouded some of its high hopes. And the Scotch doctor, with those small, shrewd eves of his, eaw further than most men. In a pithy sentence he had at onco estimated very justly the character of the two Fräsers. "Jock's heart is good, and Alick's head," he had dryly remarked of his neighbors ; anil in Biddulph's grey eyes he had seen a glimpse, it might be of an erring, but still loity soul. He had soon an opportunity of further judging of his character, for a day or two after Nora' accident, as the doctor Bat smoking after his midday meal, and fortifying himself with a glass of toddy before starting on a long ride through the drizzling rain, Mr. Biddulph was announced, and the doctor rose and stretched out his lean hand. "Glad to see ye, sir, though this is but a dreary day." "I have come to place myself under your care, doctor," said Biddulph, a dusky blush stealing to his usually pale skin. "Eh, and what is wrong now ?" asked the doctor, putting on his professional air and eyeing the healthful countenance before him. "I suppose it's the climate," answered Biddulph, "but I've got well, a pain in my shoulder." ""Bad?" inquired the doctor, laconically.. "Well, not very bad," answered Biddulph, moving, uneasily beneath the shrewd eyes fixed upon him. The doctor went through the usual formalities; the patient's tongue was red, his pulse strong and steady. "These attacks are vera' subtle," said the doctor, with just a twinkle of humor in his small ev-es. . "However, I'll gi' ye something to "rub on ver shoulder, Mr. Biddulph, and 6end tlie lad across the loch with it before nightfall." "Oh, I'll call for it to-morrow ; that will do," answered Biddulph, with assumed carelessness. "And how is your other patient this morning Miss Stewart?" "Miss Leonora Stewart answered the doctor, with imperturbable gravity of tone, though that touch of humor still lurked in his ejes, "is doing as weel as we can hope. I must tell her ye're a fellowsuflerer." Biddulph then proceeded to ask various questions about Jsora, and then, just as he was going away, he said "You'll not forget to have that stuff ready in the morning, then? I'll call for it about this time, and I hope I'll find you at home." "Then ye're na' in a hurry for it?" "Oh, tö-morrow will do. Good-bye. doctor." And thotr shook hands ana parted, and as Biddulph turned away a grim smile stole over Dr. Alexander's face. "Deil a bit of pain he had," he muttered to himself, as he finished his whisky, "unless it's under his left ribs. Oh, but, he added after a moment's thought, his mind wanderinir back to his own earlv

love-mischance, "maybe that's the worst' Earn of ay' and the poor doctor heaved a eavy sigh; (To be continued nex weh.) Life la Arkansas. Correspondence Arkansaw Traveller. We are all here and solid at Sandy Fork. A good deal of tobacco .will be put in by our larmers. Jeff Hawkins was Hung by i colt aud killed. The recent cold snap has kept the farmers in the house. Dave Bate shot Oliver Henderson one day last week. Aunt Nancy Page has seen her eighty-ninth birthday, lfer grandson, Jim, was shot night before last bym a feller; we don't know Iiis name, but he uMer visit old Higgin's daughter. We havo found lately that it won't do for a man to put his dependance in turnips for cow feed. We had a large number of turnips on hand, intending them for cow feed, but they froze, and consequently our cow is left in the lurch. During a shooting affair that occurred here the other day, Uncle Benny Boyle was hit with a bullet and putty badly crippled. Mort !eroggius is dead. Luke Briiuentine and Becky Shaw was marmied last Friday. Good deal of land being cleared up. Henderson Anbell hit Bob Pearl with an axe the other day and hurt him right sharp, I am told. Need more Eunshine. Wild ducks are plentiful. Bill Koney is dead. Varmints are getting into the COrn-CHD and totinsf oli'a good dtal w the corn. Alf Pvle and Joe Dillon had a fracas at Barker's mill night before last. Alf was badly cut about the throat lie suffered a good deal and died the neit day. We look for heavy ppring rains. Cows are going dry. Good dealof -ord wood being chopped. Aunt Suean Wilier stepped on a round stick and it turned with her, and ehe fell nnd broke her hip and died the next day. Sich is fife. Sw eet potatoes are gone. We would like to have a good mess of turnip greens. . Ben Brodley and Ilackett Plumber fit yesterday and both of them are in bed. m Our neighborhood is mighty quiet for the time of the year.

A WELL-DESERVED TRIBUTE

INGERSOLL'S ESTIMATE OF CONKLING. The Exercises in Memory of the Deceased Uöcter the Auspices of the Xw York Legislature An Eloquent Address ly a Erilliant Orator. ALBANY, N. Y.,May 9. Nearly 4,000 rcrsons in the Academy of Music in this city to-night listened to an oraiio nby CoL Robert G. IngcrboU to tho memory of Roscoe Conkling, and one-fourth as many more besieged the barred doors, w hile many climbed to the roof and peeped through the sky-L'ghis. The ceremonies were under the auspüces of the senate and assembly. CoL Ingersoll said : $ "Koscoe Coiikling a Croat rar.n, an orator, a statesman, a lawyer, a distinguished citizen of the republic, in the zenith of his fame and power, has reached his journey's end, and we are met, here in the city of his birth, to pay our tribute to his worth and work, lie earned and held a proud position in the public thought, lie stood for independence, for courage, and above all for absolute integrity, and his name was known and honored by many millions of his fellowmcn. The literature of many lands is rich with tlie tributes that gratitude, admiration and love have paid to the great and honored dead. These tributes disclose the character of nations, the ideals of the human race. In them we find the estimates of greatness, the deeds and lives that challenged praise and thrilled the hearts of men. In the presence of death the good man judges as he would be judged. He knows that men are only fragments, that the greatest walk in bhadowj and that faults and failures ininsrle with the lives of alL In the grave should be buried the prejudices and passions born of conflict. Chanty should hold the scales in which are weighed tho dfvds of men. Peculiarities, traiu born of locality and surrounding-;, these are but the dust of the race, these are accidents dranerv, cluthes, fashions, that have nothing to do Tiith the man except to hide his character. They are clouds that cling to mountains. Time give-i us clearer vision. That which w as merely local fades away. The words cf envy arc forgotten, and ull there is of sterling worth remains. 1 Ie who was called a partisan is a patriot. Ihe revolutionist and the outlaw are the founders of nations, and he who w.-;s regarded as a scheming, selfish politician beeom s a statesman, a philosopher, whose words and deeds shed light. Fortunate is that nation great enough to know the great. "When a trroat mau dies, one who has noldy fought the battle of a life, who has Leen faithful to every trust, and has uttered his lushest, noblest thought, one who has stood proudly by the right in spite of jeer and taunt, neither stopped by foe nor swerved by friend in honoring him, in speaking word.i of praise and love above Lis dust, wo pay a tribute lo ourselves. How poor this world would be without its graves, without the memories of its mighty dead. Only the voiceless speak forever. Intelligence, integrity and courage are the trreat pillars that support the state." Above all, the citizens of a free nation should honor the brave and independent man, !ie man of stainless integrity, of will aud intellectual force. Such men are the Atlases on whose mighty shoulders rests the great fabric of the republic. Flatterers, cringers, crawlers, time-servers are the dangerous citizens of a democracy. They who gain applause and power 3y pandering to the mistakes, the prejudices and passions of the multitude are tne enemies of liberty. "When the intelligent submit to the clamor of tlie many anarchy begins und the republic reaches tlie edge of chaos Mediocrity touched w ith ambition Matters the base and calumniates the great, while the true patriot, who will do neither, is often sacrificed. In a government of the people a leader should be a teacher, he should carry the torch of truth. Most people are the slaves of habit, followers of custom, believers in the wisdom of the past, and were it not for brave and splendid souls, 'the dut of antique time would lieunswept, and mountainous error to too highly heaped for truth to overpeer.' Custom is a prison, locked and barred by those who long ago were dust, the keys of which are in the keeping of the dead. Nothing is grander than when a strong, intrepid man breaks chains, levels walls ami brcarts the many-headed mob like seme gjeat dill" that meets and mocks the innumerable billows of the eea. The politician hastens to agree with the majority, insists that their prejudice is patriotism, that their ignorance is wisdom, not that he loves them, tut because he loves himself. The statesman, the real reformer, points out the mistakes of the multitude, attacks the prejudice of his countrymen, laughs At their follies, denounces their cruelties, enlightens and enlarges their minds and educates the conscience, not because he loves himself, but because he loves and serves the right and wishes to make his country great and free. With him defeat is but a spur to further etlort. He who refuses to stoop, who cannot be bribed by the promise of success, or the fear of failure, who walks the highway of the right and in disaster stands erect, is the only victor. Nothing is more despicable than to reach fame by crawling, position by cringing. "When real history shall he written by the truthful and the w ise, those men, those kneelers at the shrines of chance ana fraud, those brazen idols worshipped once as gods, will be the very fcod of scorn, while thoe who bore the burden of defeat, who earned and kept their self-respect, who would not bow to man or men for place or power, will wear upon their brows the laurel mingled with the oak. "Koscoe Conkling was a man of superb courage. He not ouly .acted without fear, but he had that fortitude of soul that bears the consequences of the course pursued without complaint. He was charged with being proud. The charge was true lie was proud. His knees were as inflexible as the 'unwcdgeaMe and gnarled oak;' but he was not vain. Vanity rests on the opinion of others: pride on our own. The source of vanity is from without; of pride from within. Vanity is a vane that turns, a willow that bends w ith every breeze; pride is the oak that defies the Etorm. One is cloud, the other rock. One is weakness, the ther strength. "Thi3 imperious man entered pubblic life at the dawn of the reformation, at a time when the country needed men of pride, of principle and courage. The institution of slavery had poisoned ail the springs of power. Before this crime ambition feel upon its knees politicians judges, clergymen and merchant princes bowed low and humbly, with their hats in their hands. The real friend of man was denounced as tlie enemy of his country; the real enemy of the human race was called a statesman and a patriot. Slavery was the bond and pledge of peace, of union, and national greatness. The temple of American liberty was finished; the auction block was the corner-stone. "It is hard to conceive of the utter demoralization, of the political blindness and immorality, of the patriotic dishonesty, of the cruelty and degradation of a people who supplemented the incomparable declaration of independence with the fugitive slave law. Think of the honored statesmen of that ignoble time who wallowed in this mire, and who, decorated with dripping tilth, received the plaudits of their fellow men! The noble, the really patriotic, were the victims of mobs, and the f hameiess were clad in the robes of office. But let us speak no word of blame, let us feel that each one acted according to his light, according to his darkness. "At lat the great conflict came. Tlie hosts of light and darkness prepared to meet upon the lields of war. The question was presented: Shall the republic be slave or free? The republican tparty had triumpned at the polls. The greatest man in our history was presidentelect. The victors were appalled ; they shrank from the great responsibility of success. In the presence of rebellion they hesitated; they ollcred to return the fruits of vk-torv. Hoping to avert war they were willing that slavery phoulJ become immortal. An amendment to tlie constitution was proposed to the tli'ect that no subsequent amendment should ever be made that in any way 6hould interfere with the right of maa to steal his fellow-men. This, th most marvellous proposition ever submitted to a congress of civilized men, received in the house aa overwhelming majority nnd the necessary two-thirds in the senate. The republican party, in the moment of its triumph, deserted every principle for which it had so gallantly contended, and with trembling nands of fear laid its convictions on tne altar of compromise. The old guard, numbering but eixty-fve ia the

house, stood as firm as the three hundred at Thermopylic. Tunddeus Stevens as maliciously ridit as any other man was wrong re fused "to kneel. Owen Lovejoy, remembering his brother's noble blood, refused to surrender aid on the edge of disunion, in the shadow of civil war. with tlie air filled with the sounds of dreadf ul preparation, ' w hile the republican party was retracing its steps Hoscoe Conkling voted no. This puts a wreath of glory on Lis tomb. From that vote to the last momen of his life, he was a cLarnt.ion of equal rights, staunch and staiwart. From that moment b stood in the front rank. He never wavered and he nevr swerved. By his devotion to principle, his courage, tha splendor of his diction, by his varied and profound knowledge, Lis conscientious devotion to the great cause, Rnd bv bis intellectual se-ope and grasp, he won and held the admiration of his lellow men. "Pisfisters (in the fiVld, reverses at the polls, did not and could not shake his courage cr his faith, lie knew the ghaHly meaning of defeat, lie knew that the great ship tht elavery sought to strand and wreck was freighted; with the world's sublimest Lope. He battled for a nation's life, for th rights of slaves, tho dignity of labor, and t' c liberty of all. U guarded with a lather s care the rights of the EanteeLtln; hafd and despised. He attacked the tavage statutes of the reconstructed state w tth a torrent of invective, 6Corn and execration. He was not satistied until the freeman was an American citizen clothed with every civil right, until the constitution was his shield, until the ballot was Lis sword. And long after we are dead the colored man in this anu other lands will fpeak his name ia reverence and love. Others wavered, but he stood firm; some) were false, but be was proudly true,' fearlessly faithful unto death. He g'adly, proudly grasped the hands of colored men who stood w ith Lim cs makers of our laws, and treated them as equals and as friends. The cry ot 'social equality,' coined and uttered by tha crudest and basest, was to him the expression of a great and splendid truth, lie knew that no maa can be the equal of the one he rots, that tlie intelligent and unjust are not the superiors of ignorant and honest, and he also felt, und proudly felt, thnt it he were not too grcp.t to reach the hand of help and recognition to the slave, no other senator could rightfully refuse. We rise by raising others, and he who strops above the fallon, stands erect. ''Nothing can be grander than to sow the seeds of noble thoughts and virtuous deeds, to liberate the bodies and the souls of men, to earn the grateful homage of a race, and thenin life's last shadowy hour, to know and feel that tlie historian of liberty will be compelled ti write your ram?. There are no words intense enough, with heart enough to expresa my admiration tor the great and gallant sou!ä w ho have in every age und every land uphe la the rieht, and w ho have lived and died for free, dom's sake. In our lives have been th grandest years that man has lived, that thua has measured by the flight of worlds. "The history of the great party that let tha oppressed go free, that lifted our nation from the depths of savueery to freedom's cloudless heights, and tore with holy hands from every law the words that sauctilied the cruelty of man, is the most glorious ia the annals of our rae-e. Never before was there such a moral exaltctioii, never a party with a purpose so par and high. It was the embodied conscience of a nation, tho enthusiasm of a people guided by wisdom, the impersonation of justice, aud ths sublime victcrv achieved loaded even the conqueror with all the rights that freedom can bestow. "Hoscoe Conkling was an absolutely honest man. Honesty is th oak around which all other virtues cling. Without that they fall and grov'ding eiie in weeds and (J lust. He believed that a naiioa taould discharge its obligations. He knew that a promise could not ba made often enough or emphatic enough to taka. the place of a payment. He felt that the promise of the government was the promise of every citizen, that a national obligation was a personal debt, and that no possible combination of words and pictures could take tlie place of cola. He uttered the splendid truth that 'the hi-bef obligations amonq men are not set down in writing, signed and scaled, but reside in honor. He knew that repudiation was the sacrifice of bouor, the death of the national soul. He kner that without character, without integrity, tfcero is no wealth aud that below poverty, below bankruptcy, is the rayless abyss of repudiation. He upheld the sacedness of contracts, ot IdightcFnatioral faith, and helped to save un i :eep the honor of his native land. This adds another laurel to his brow. He was the ideal reprcscitatiue, faithful and incorruptible, ne believed his con&titueuts and his country wer entitled to the fruit of his experience, to his best and hb.nesfc thought. No man ever hell the standard of responsibility higher than he. He voted according to his judgment, Lis conscience. H made no bareains. neither bought nor sold. To correct evils, abolish abuses nnd inaugurate reforms, he believed wa.s not only the duty, but the privilege of a legislator. lie reither sold nor mortgaged himself. He was in cor.gresa during the years of vast expenditures, ot war and waste, when the credit of the nation wt loaned to individuals when claims werethir!c as leaves in June, when the amendment ffa statute, the chancre of a ' s'ngle word meant millions, and when empire were given to corporations. He stood at the surnmit of his power peer cf the greatest, a leader tried and trusted. He had the tastes of a prince, tha fortune of a peasant, and yet he never swerved. No corporation was great enough or rich enough to purehr.se him. His vote eouli not be bought for all the sun sees, or the closa earth wombs, or the profound seas hide.' "His band was never touched by any bribe, and on his soul there never was a sordid 6tain. Poverty was Lis prie'tlcss crown. Above his marvelous intellectual gifts, above all place La ever rcacheel, above the ermine he refused, rises his integrity like some great mount tin peak, aud there it stands, lirra as the earth beneath, pure as the stars above. He wa a great lawyer. He understood the framework, the anatomy, the foundations of law, was familiar with the great streams and torrents aud tides of authority. lie knew tha bis ton of legislation, the principles that have Leen settled upon the fields o war. Ha knew the maxims, those ciysta'lirations of common tense, those hand-grenades of arsru ment. He was not a case-lawyer, a decision in dex. or an ectio; he wa original, thoughtful and profound, lie had breadth and scope, resoure'e, learning, logic, and above all, a sensa of justice. He was painstaking and conscientious, anxious to know the tacts, preparing fnr every attack, readv for every defense. Ha rested only when the end wits reached. During the contest he neither sert nor received ft Hag of truce. He was true to Lis client, making their case Lis. Feelii.g responsibility, ha listened patiently to details, and to Ins industry there were ouly the limits of time and strength. He was a student of the constitution. He knew the boundaries of state and federal jurisdiction, and no man was more familiar with those great dccisior.3 that are the peaka and promontories, the headlands, and the bea cons of tlie law. "He was an orator, earnest, logical, intens an J picturesque. He laid the foundation with care, with accuracy and skill, and rose by 'cold graduation ami well-balanced form' from the comer stone of statement to the domed con elusion. He tilled the stage. He satisfiedtha eye, the audience was his. He had that in definable thing called presence. Tall, comminding, erect, ample in speech, graceful ia compliment, titanic in denunciation, rich in illustration, prodigal of comparison and metaphor, and hi sentences, measured and rythmical, fell like music on the enraptured throng. "He tbhored the pharis?e, he loathed all sanctimonious frauel. lie had a profound aver ion for those who insist on putting base mo tives back of the good de-eds of others. II wore no mask. He knew his friends, hit enemies knew him. He bad no patience with pretence, with patriotic reans for unmanly acts. He did his w ork and bravely spoke his thought. Sensitive to the last degree he keenly felt the blows and stabs of the envious and ohscure, of the smallest, of the weakest, but tha greatest could not drive hira frcta his convictions. He would not stop to ask or give an explanation. He left his words and deeds to justify themselves. He held in light tteem a friend who heard with half believing cars the blander of a foe. He walked a highway of his own, nnd kept the company of his self-respect. He would not turn asiele to avoid a foe, ta greet or goin a friend. In his nature there was do compromise. To him there were but two paths, tlie.ruhtanl wrong. He was malirged, misrepresented and misundcrsteod, but be would not answer. He knew that character speaks louder far than anj words. He was aa

v