Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 October 1900 — RUINS OF ANCIENT OPHIR. [ARTICLE]

RUINS OF ANCIENT OPHIR.

Claims that the Rich Mines of Olden Tinies Have Been Rediscovered, Carl Peters, who arrived in London the other day from Africa, has given some further details concerning his discovery of what he believes to be the ruins of the ancient Ophir. He said that he had been exploring the country between the Zambesi and the Pung we in Portuguese East Africa and eastern Mashonuland. Before he started from England he had information which led him to believe that Fura was near the eastern entrance of the Lupata gorge. There he found it. It was situated on the banks of the Mulra River, about fifteen miles south of the Zambesi and halfway between Sena and Tete. At the time of his discovery he had with him Mr. Fuzey and two mining engineers, Mr. Gramann and Mr. Napoteki. Film was the native corruption of the word Afur, by which name the Arabs of the sixteenth century knew Ophir. He had ample proof that the Fura which they discovered and explored last summer was the Ophir of the old testament. The natives call themselves Makalanga, which means people of the sun. They were to tills day sun and fire worshipers. They were quite unlike the ordinary African and had a distinct Jewish type of face. On arriving in the district he soon found that the natives had some idea of the existence of the ancient Ophir. In fact, they washed gold themselves after the rainy season, and after storing It in quills did a fairly large trade In It with Beira and Tete. A chief gave him valuable information regarding the position of ancient workings, which he at once „ investigated. Going to the spot Indicated, he found ruins of undoubtedly Semitic type. Fura itself he found to possess a formation of quartzltic alate and diorite, between which gold reefs were runnine. The workings which he found were not only surface workings, bat shafts and roads hewn Into the roofed

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued.) A light murmur of voices at the bedside caused her to open her eyes. A gentleman was standing beside Miss Arnold, who seemed to be talking about her; At first Nessa thought that he must be Dr. Meredith, but this opinion was shaken by his appearance. He did not look like a doctor—certainly not like the wise, benevolent, white-haired, elderly gentleman shs had figured from Miss Arnold's words. This gentleman was young—not more than thirty or thirty-two, tall and straight, bro.ad shouldered and deepchested, with short, close, curling hair, a beard trimmed to a point, and a long, fair mustache. He wore a gray jacket and a flannel shirt with a turn-down collar that showed his sunburnt neck, and his silk handkerchief was tied carelessly in a loose knot. In one hand he held a pot of lilies-of-the-valley; the other hand rested on Miss Arnold’s shoulder, as he listened attentively to what she said. It was more probSble that he was her brother by his manner, and, like her, had no fixed occupation. Still listening, he turned his head toward the bed, and seeing Nessa awake, smiled and nodded cheerfully. Now Nessa decided that he could not be her brother, for his eyes were a clear blue, and his complexion good, and every feature regular, and wonderfully handsome, in Nessa’s opinion. Perhaps he was Miss Arnold’s lover, and if he were, Nessa thought that they were well matched, for both looked »o honest and good. “These are for you, dear,” said he, giving the pot of flowers to Miss Arnold; ■nd then he came close to the bed, and taking up Nessa’s hand he held her pulse lightly under his fingers while he fixed his eyes intently on her sac own taking an expression of gravity that won Nassa’s admiration and respect. “Are you Dr. Meredith?” she asked. He nodded, still holding her hand, and then a smile breaking over his face, he •aid: “You'll do now, Miss Dancaster. It has been no end of a tough contest this time, but you’ve won again. I shall have good news for your friends to-day.” “My friends,” said Nessa, faintly; “oh! they have all forgotten me.” “Forgotten you!" exclaimed the young doctor, with a laugh. “Hand me that thing off the table, Grace.” Miss Arnold brought an ornamental basket from the table. “Look at these,” he continued, taking up a handeni of cards and letting them Blip through his fingers back into the basket. “That will show if your friends have forgotten you. We’ve had to muffle the door-knocker; they came in such numbers. Look at them,” stirring the cards with bis finger. “My friends would not know me now, would they?” A “We will put them to the test soon, I hope.” “Soon; yes,” she replied, eagerly, “but not yet awhile —not till I look nice again. That will be soon.” He answered her appeal with a cheerful nod. “When shall I look well enough to be back again?” “You may look well enough before you are able to sit in the saddle.” “But! shall be able to ride again. Not at once, but some day. Oh, do tell me that. I could not live if I thought I should never-never be anything but this. I am not so much injured—see;” she moved, and then bit her lip to conceal the pang it gave her. “We must make her wish to live,” said Dr. Meredith to Miss Arnold. And meanwhile, with the assistance of the money lender, Nichols, Mrs. Redmond had made good her escape and was living with his wife's mother in Hamburg.

CHAPTER XXL One day when Nessa had so far recovered that she could sit up in bpd with a little help, she awoke out of her afternoon sleep to find a stranger seated at her bedside in the place usually occupied by Miss Arnold. The stranger was a stout, motherly old lady, with a cap and French curls of white, silvery hair, a fresh complexion, a good-natured expression, and a pair of spectacles resting on the tip of her nose. She was knitting. A soft, white kerchief round her throat, fastened with an antique miniature brooch, set round with pearls, and a black silk dress, showed that she was by no means a common sort of person. “Good afternoon,” said Nessa. “Now I daresay you wonder who I am, and how I came here,” said the old lady, laying down her work. “Well, my name is Blount—and blunt’s my nature—and I’ve come here to take care of you while Miss Grace gets a little rest and exercise and fresh air. Now, would you like me to talk to yon?” j “If you could knit and talk at the same time,’’ suggested Nessa. “That’s a very sensible idea,” said she old lady. “Do you know, I’m most agree’bly surprised in you," she added. “You were a horse rider in a sukkus, for my dear boy. Mr. Sweyn, told me so, though I could hardly believe it when I •ee you asleep; and it’s still harder now I see your nice, honest eyes open, and hear your voice, and see how prettily you behave,yourself; and if they hadn't told me who never yet deceived me, even when I missed ’em as children—and children are little rogues, bless their hearts! •—there, I never could hive believed that ? r ou were anything but a regular young ady, born and bred.” “Don't you think a rider in a circus may be a lady?" “Well, they may, my dear; but in general I don’t think they are. I was nuss in a nobleman’s family for eighteen years, and nil my life I’ve lived in the very best society, but I never yet knew any young lady show herself off in short frockx. and jump through paper hoops, and carry on Meg's diversions of that kind.” “But I didn’t wear short frocks or jump through hoops.” -■

“Then I’m heartily glad to hear it, for I can’t think it.becoming to young persons at your time of life. My gracious! I think it would kill me to see my dear Miss Grace a-sthnding on one foot!” The idea of Miss Arnold in this condition almost frightened Nessa. “Ah, she’s an angel, she is,” pursued the old lady, with a shake of the head over her knitting; “and I suppose we ought to be grateful she is such; but I can't help wishing at times that she would go a-pleasurin’, like other young ladies, and take a’little more care of herself than she does of others. Has she told you of th'is now scheme of hers, my dear?” dropping her voice to a discreet undertone. “Not yet,” Nessa said. “No more she has me. She's one of those who don’t like to be praised, or even to let people know of the good they do. It's something to do with nussing. It means that she's going to give her time and her’fortune'to doing good to others. Well, she can't spend her money better, I suppose, than in such work; but I do hope she won't sacrifice health and happiness as well. A dearer gal never lived —nor a sweeter, nor a prettier, to my mjnd; and it do seem a pity—though I suppose I ought not to say so—that she can't be content to marry, and have a nice large family, and servants, and gardens, and all the pleasures of life. How is she to keep her husband comfortable, and look after her dear little children when they come, and enjoy herkelf going to operas, and Crystal Palaces,, and waxworks. and the south of France in the winter if she's got all these horrid hospitals and things on her mind?” “Miss Arnold is engaged to Dr. Meredith, is she not?” Nessa asked, “Yes. my dear,” she said in a confidential whisper; “you may say they've been engaged ever since they off pinafores. They’re bound to marry; and it’s high time they were, for my boy, Mr. Sweyn— I call him my boy because I missed him when he was quite a babe; and so I did my dear Miss Grace likewise, the families being related, you understand—well Sweyn is thirty-two, and Grace is seven-and-twenty come May; and so, as 1 say, it’s high time they married. But, you see, she is very rich, and he is very poor, his practice bringing him in next to nothing. and I suppose he would like to feel a little easier before he marries. For he's a rare manly fellow, as you must have seen; and I think it would fret him to keep up a position suitable to his wife’s bringing up, that he would have to pay for with some of her money.” - “I fear Miss Arnold has been sacrificing herself for me,” said Nessa, after a pause. “She has, my dear,” replied Mrs. Blount, with a most decided nod. “She's knocked herself out for your sake. I warrant you.’ve never found her away from your side when you've needed her. No. Night and day she has watched over you; and she wouldn’t have gone away this afternoon if I hadn’t come; and not then if you had been in any danger.” “Why?” asked Nessa, wondering. “She did not know me. She doesn’t know me now. I might be the most undeserving creature in the world.” “That wouldn't make a pin of difference to her; except that I believe she would care more tenderly for yon If she thought all the world despised you—bless her dear heart!” The old lady’s voice trembled, and laying down her knitting she raised her glasses and wiped away a tear. "It isn’t a craze with her. She’s not one of those poor miserable creatures in an everlasting fidget about their souls —like a neighbor of mine, with about sixpenn'worth of furniture in his house, who can’t rest o’ nights for fear of being burned out —who do right because it’s a duty. Her goodness comes natural, and is owing to nothing but the loving kindness of her heart; and there’s not a bit of fear or selfishness in it—that there ain’t. And now, as I look nt you with that sadness in your face, 1 shouldn't wonder if you're pining for some handsome young gentleman that you haven't seen all these weeks.”

. “No,” said Nessa, quietly. “Sure-ly you’ve got a sweetheart, dearie. 1 mean one that you like better than all the rest.” “No. There is not one that I care for more than another. No one that 1' care for at all in that way—as Miss Arnold cares for Dr. Meredith, for example.” “Then you ought to have, my dear,”’ said Mrs. Blount, emphatically. “Why, every young woman of your age ought to have a sweetheart. What have you been thinking about?’’ “Why, I suppose I have been thinking very much about something else,” Nessa answered, with a smile, thinking of the passionate delight she found in the arena. But the smile died away quickly, aud a heavy load seemed to press upon her heart. “I must not think of that," she said to herself, attributing the depression to a before-felt premonition that she should never return to the International. Still that weight lay upon her heart when she turned her thoughts to her friends, Grace Arnold and Sweyn Meredith, and pictured them together in the sunshine, happy in their mutual love.

CHAPTER XXH. One morning when Sweyn came to see Nessa, he held her wasted hand in his after tbeir customary greeting, and a look of trouble and anxiety came into his eyes as he looked down into her thin face. There was nothing of her, poor little thing! She was not getting on at all. She must be fretting about something, he said to himself. He seated himself, still holding the slight, soft fingers that seemed to cling to his broad palm in mute appeal for help to recover strength. “Do you sleep well?” he asked in a tone mellowed by sympathy. “Yes. It seems to me that is all that I can do now,” she replied, feebly. "At first I thought I could not live unless I went back to the arena, but now I think I may live, and yet not wish to run an-

other race. I can think of that Me atf good-by forever, now, without pain. He looked at her in silence, unable to understand this assertion, for her voice, her eyes, her lips belied Lt by their signs of suffering. “I have lost heart because I have lost strength—that is all,” she continued, add'ing, with deeper dejection, “I am only an ordinary girl.” “Only an ordinary girl,” he repeated to himself. “There’s pot such another in the world." Then after a pause he said aloud: “It would be an extraordinary creature who didn’t lose her courage with her strength—something more than hu l man’.” “No; not more than human,” she an-' swered. “If I had lived for others and not for myself—if I had some greater object in my life than the mere gratification of vanity—l should not lose heart. Miss Arnold would never lose courage; it is only we ordinary girls who give in like this.” "If you were only an ordinary girl you wouldn’t say such a thing as that.” Involuntarily his hand closed upon her fingers, and its warmth seemed to be imparted to her and send a thrill through her heart. "If you have anything on your mind, it’s always best to have it out with a friend, isn’t it? Grace could give you a lot of practical advice. I can only lay down the saw in a general way, you know. Talk to her as you have talked to me." But this was exactly what Nessa could not do. Physical prostration made her take an exaggerated view of her own moral weakness and Miss Arnold's strength, and while she considered herself nothing more than a frivolous, pleas-, ure-loving child, she exalted Grace to a position quite beyond that of even the best of women. A great gulf lay between them which, it appeared, could not be crossed without presumption on her part. It was not entirely Nessa’s fault that they stood apart. There was an instinctive repulsion on both sides. With the most earnest endeavor to efface herself and exercise charity in its broadest meaning, Grace eould not overcome certain antipathies due to her birth and the training of early life. She conscientiously sought to beat down the barrier of conventional prejudices which separated the refined and’sensitive lady from the public favorite of a vulgar exhibition. She neglected no opportunity of putting herself on the same level with Nessa and treating her as if they were equal iu all respects. Her intentions were sincere, but her kindest words lacked warmth of expression. Her most generous actions showed thought and care rather than the spontaneity which wins love. It grieved her deeply that thus was so, and that she could not love Nessa as Nessa deserved to bo loved, that her heart would not expand to her will, but, like a zoophyte, contracted the more when she tried to open it. It needed a slighter power of observation than hers to perceive that Sweyn and Nessa were more at their ease when she left them.. It was a relief also to herself to escape, and so the distance grew greater between them, but by such imperceptible degrees that neither Sweyn nor Nessa noticed it particularly. They might have seen a change in her had they been less happy in themselves. All three were blind in a certain sense. There was one person in the house, though, who saw what was going on clearly enough, and with growing dissatisfaction. and that person was Mrs. Blount. She lost a good deal of her natural good temper by not being able to speak her mind on the subject. She went about with her lips pursed tightly up, as if she feared to open them, lest the truth might come out. Whenever she found anything she might find fault with, she let off her displeasure on that. She grumbled at West Kensington, but she refused to go back to Brixton, though Grace assured her there was no longer any n<>ed of her, as Nessa could now almost do without help. "She’s not the only one who needs looking after,” said Mrs. Blount. "And I only hope I may not be wanted to miss you. gmile as you like —and I wish it was a happier smile—you are not right. You’re thinner than ever, and more serious and sad, and,” with pronounced decision, “you don’t laugh natural." (To be continued.)