Plymouth Tribune, Volume 4, Number 22, Plymouth, Marshall County, 2 March 1905 — Page 3

CHAPTER I. Twas on Nov. 29, A. D. 342 a clear, frosty day that the King, with the Trince of Wales, the Princes Rupert and Maurice, and a great compear of lords and gentlemen, horse and foot, came marching back to us from Reading. I was a pupil of Trinity Cohge in Oxford at that time, and may begin my history at 3 o'clock on the same afternoon, when going to Mr. Rob Drury for ny fencing lesson, I found his lodgings empty. They stood at the corner of Ship street. as you turn into the Corn Market a low wainscoted chamber, ill lighted but commodious. "He is ' off to see the show," thought I as I looked about me: and finding an easy cushion. In the window, sat down to await him. Where presently, being tired out and in despite of the open lattice, I fell sound asleep. It must hare been an hour after that I awoke with a chill and was stretching out a hand to pull the window close, but suddenly sat down again and fell to watching instead. The window looked down, at the height of ten feet or so, upon a bowling green at the back of the '-Crown" Tavern, and across it to a rambling wing of the same inn; the fourth side, being but ar. old wall, with a broad sycamore growing against it. Twas already twilight, and in the darkening house, over the green, was now one casement brightly lit, the curtains undrawn, and within a noisy company round a table. They were gaming, as was easily told by their clicking of the dice and anon the bellow of some chorus would come across. Twas one of these catches, I dar say, that woke me; only just now my eyes were bent, not toward the singer", but on the still lawn between us. The sycamore, I hare hinted, was a broad tree, and must. In summer, hare borne a gocily load of leav; but now, in November, these were strewn thick oxer the green, and nothing left but stiff, naked boughs. Beneath it a garden bench rested. On this a man was now seated. lie was reading in a little book; and this first jogged my curiosity; for 'twas annatural a man should read print at this dim hour, or he should choose a cold bowling green for his purpose. Yet he seemed to study his volume very attentively, with a sharp look, now and then, toward the lighted window, as if the revellers disturbed him. His back was partly turned to me; and what with this and the growing dusk, I could but make a guess at his face; but a-plenty of silver hair fell -over his fur collar, and his shoulders were bent a great deal, I judged him between fifty and sixty. For the rest, he wore a dark, simple suit, very straitly cut, and a hat rather tall, after the fashion of the last reign. Now, why the man's behavior so engaged me, I don't know, but at the end of half an hour I was still watching him. By this, 'twas near dark, bitter cold, and his pretense to read mere fondness; yet he persevered though with longer glances at the casement above, where the din at timee was fit to wake the dead. And now one of the dicers upsets his chair, and gets on his feet. Looking up, I saw his features for a moment a slight, pretty boy, scarce above eighteen, with fair curls and flushed cheeks like ; girl's. It made me admire to see him In this ring of purple, villainous faces. Twas evident he was a young gentleman .of quality, as well by his bearing as hU handsome cloak of amber stin barred with black. "I think the demon Is in these dice!" I heard him crying, and a pretty hubbub all about him; but presently he sits down quietly to a fresh game. As soon as 'twas started, one of the crew, that had been playing but was now dropped out, lounges up from his eat. and coming to the casement pushes It open for fresh air. He was a tall bully, with a gross pimpled nose, and led the catches in a bull's voice. The rest of the players paid no heed to his rising, and very soon his shoulders hid them, as he leaned out, drawing In the cold breath. During the late racket I had forgot for a while my friend under the sycamore, but now, looking that way," to my astonishment I saw him risen from his bench and stealing acrosj to the house opposite. He kept all the "way to the darker shadow of the wall, and besides had curious trailing motion with his left f as though the ankle of it had been wruu or badly hurt. As soon as he was come beneath the window he stopped and called softly: "Hist!" The bully gave a start and looked down. I could tell by this motion he did not look to find any one in the bowling green at that hour. He now moved so as to let it fall on the man that addressed him. The other stands close under the window, as if to avoid that, and calls again: "Hist! 6ays he, and beckons with a finger. The man at the window still held his tongue, and so for a while the two men studied one another in silence, as if considering their next moves. After a bit, however, the bully lifted a hand, and turning back into the lighted room, walks up to one of the players, speaks a word or two and disappears. I sat up on the window seat, where till now I had lteen crouching for fear the shaft of Ilprht should betray me, and presently heard the latch of the back porch gently lifted, and spied the heavy form of the bully coming softly over the grr.ss. The bully must have closed the door behind him but carelessly, for hardly could he take a dozen steps when it opened again with a scuffle, and the large Louse dos belonging to the "Crown" float his heels with a vicious snarl an nap of the teeth. Twas enough to scare the coolest. But the fellow turned as if shot, and before he could snap again had gripped him fairly by the throat. The struggle that followed I could barely see, but I heard the horrible sounds of it the hard, shore breathing of the man, the hoarse rage working in the dog's throat and it turned me sick. The dog was fighting now to pull looe, and the pair swayed this way and that in the dusk, panting and murderous. I was almost shouting aloud feeling as though 'twere my own throat th'n gripped when the end came. The m" had his legs planted well apart. 1 his shoulders heave up and bend as .tightened the pressure of his fingers; the.. ame a moment's dead silence, then ' a hideous gurgle, and the mastiff dropped back, his hind legs trailing limp. The bully held him so for a full minets, peering close to make sure he was ead, and then without loosening -hi hold, dragged him across ths grass under my window, and sent tie carcass with a heave over th wall. I heard It drop with a thud on the far side. . During this fierce wrextla the clatter and shouting of the company above had Cons oa without a brtik; and all this while the xaxn with the whits ha'r rested Qulctlj on one Ida, watzl-Lrj. JZrzX now

he steps up to where the bully stood mopping his face and, with a finger between the leaves of his book, bows very politely. "You handled that dog, sir, choicely well," says he, in a thin voice that seemed to have a chuckle hidden in it somewhere. "But sure," he went on, ' 'twas

hard on the poor cur, that had never heard of Captain Lucius Illggs I thought the bully would have had him by the windpipe and pitched him after the mastiff, so fiercely he turn'd at the sound of this name. But the old gentleman skipped back quite nimbly and held up a finger. "I'm a man of peace. If another title suits you better " "Where got you that name?" growled the bully, and had half a mind to come ou again, but the other put In briskly: "I'm on a plain errand of business. No need, as you hint, to mention names; and therefore let me present myself as Mr. z ." "My name Is Luke Settle." said the big man, hoarsely. ' "Let us say 'Mr. X I prefer iL" . The old gentleman, as he said this, popped his head on one side, laid the forefinger of his right hand across the book, and seemed to be considering. "Why did you throttle that dog a minute ago?" he asked, sharply. "Why, to save my skin," answers the fellow, a bit puzzled. "Would you have done It for fifty pounds?" "Aye, or half that." "And how If it had been a puppy, Mr. X?" Now, all this from my hiding I heard very clearly, for they stood right under me in the dusk. But as the old gentleniau paused to let his question sink in. and the bully to catch the drift of it before answering, one of the dicers above struck up to sing. While this din continued, the stranger held up one forefinger again, as if be seeching silence, the other remaining still between the pages of his book. "Pretty boys!" he said, as the noise died away; "pretty boys! "Tis easily seen they have a bird to pluck." "He's none of my plucking." "And if he were, why not? Sure you've picked a feather or two before now in the Low Countries hey?" "I'll tell you what," interrupts the big man. "next time you crack me one of your death's-head jokes, over the wall you go after the dog. What's to prevent urt "Why, this," answers the old fellow. cheerfully. "There's money to be made by doing no such thing. And I don't enrry it all about with me. So, as 'tis late, we'd best talk business at once." They moved away toward the 6eat un der the sycamore, and now their words reached me no longer only the low murmur of their voices. Their very forms were lost within the shadow. I, myself, was cold enough by this time, but lay still nevertheless. And after awhile they stood up together, and came pacing across the bowling green, the older man trailing his foot painfully to keep step. " besides the pay," the stranger was saying, "there s all you can win of this young fool, Anthony, all you find on the pair, which 1 11 wager " They passed out of hearing, but turned soon and came back again. The big man was speaking this time. "I'll be shot if I know what game you re playing in this." The elder chuckled softly. "I'll be shot if 1 mean you to," said he. And this was the last I heard. For now there came a clattering at the door behind me, and Mr. Robert Drury reeled In. Liquor was ever his master, ar-d to day the King s health had been a fair excuse. He did not spy me, but the roar of his ballad had startled the two men outside, and so, while he was stumbling over chairs and groping for a tinder box. I slipped out in the darkness, and downstairs into the street. . . - CHAPTER II. Twas 4 o'clock before I dropped asleep In my bed in Trinity, and my last thoughts were still busy in the words I had heard. Nor, on the morrow, did it fare any better with me; so that,-at rhetoric lecture, our president Dr. Ralph Kettle took me by the ears be'ore the whole class. He was the fiercer pon me as being older than the gross of my fellow scholars, and the more rest less under discipline. : "A tutor'd adolescence," he would say, "is a fair grace be fore meat," and had his hour glass enlarged to point the moral for us. But even a rhetoric lecture must have an end, and so, tossing my gown to the porter, I set off at last for Magdalen Bridge, where the new barncado was building. The day was dull and low'ring, though my wits were too busy to heed the sky; but scarcely was I past the small gate in the city wall when a brisk shower of hail and sleet drove me to shelter in the Pig Market before the Dirinity School. 'Tis an ample vaulted passage, and here I found a great company of people already driven by the same cause, among them a fellow impudently puffing a speci fic against the cholera, which already had begun to invade us. I was standing before this jackanapes, when I heard a stir in the crowd behind me and another calling: "Who'll buy? Who'll buy?" . Turning. I saw a young man, very gay ly dressed, moving quickly about at the far end of the Pig Market, and behind him an old lackey, bent double with the weight of two great baskets piled with books, clothes and gewgaws of all kinds. and 'twas the young gentleman that hawked his wares himself. "What d'ye lack?" he kept shouting. and would stop to unfold his tnerchan life, holding up now a book, now a silk ublet, and running over their merits :ke any huckster but with the merriest conceit In the world. And yet 'twas not this that sent my heart flying into my mouth at the sight of him. For by his curls and womanish face, no less than the amber cloak with the black bars, I knew him at once for the same I had seen yesterday among the dicers. As I stood there, drawn this way and that by many reflections, he worked his way through the press, selling here and there a trifle from his baskets, and at length came to a halt in front of me. "Ha!" he cried, pulling off his plumed hat and bowing low. "A scholar, I perive! Let me serve you, sir. Here is e 'History of St. George" and he icked out a thin, brown quarto and held it up, and the price a poor two shillings. Now, all this while I was considering what to do. So, as I put my hand In my pocket and drew out the shillings, I said very slowly, looking him In the eyes (but softly, so that the lackey might not hear): "So thus yoa feed your expenses at the dice; and ny thillinjs, rio doubt, Is for Luke Settle, as well as the rest." For the moment, under my look, he went whits to the lips; then clapped kia band to his sword, withdrew it, and anSTtcrcd cs, red a turkey ccck; "Cialt ts a p irren, yet, Uzitz? Ccicl ir; t-t art a a Lcrzy, it ct- V

Now I had ever a qIck temper, ani

as he turned ou his heel, was like to havi replied and raised a brawl. My owt meddling tongue had brought the rebufl upon me; but yet my heart was hot at he walked away. j - I was standing there and looking aftei him, tuiaiug over in my hand the "Life of Saini George," when my fingers wen aware of a slip of paper between th pages, as follows: "Mr. Anthony Killigrew, his acct foi Oct. 25th, MDCXLII. For herrings, 2d; for coffee, 4d; for scowring my coat, Gdt at bowls, 5s 10d; for bleading me, Is Od; for ye King's speech, 3d; for seeing ye Rhinoceros, 4d; at ye Ranter-go-round, G3id; for a pair of silver buttons, 2s Cd; for apples, 2d; at ye dice, 17 5s." As I glanced my eye down this paper, my anger oozed away, and a great feel ing of pity came over me, not only at the name of Anthony, but also to see the monstrous item of 17 odd spent' on the dice. Twas such a boy, too, after all, that I was angry with, that had spent fourpence to see the rhinoceros at' a fair, and rode on the ranter-go-round. So that, with quick forgiveness, I hurried after him, and laid a hand on his shoul der. He stood by the entrance, counting up his money, and drew himself up very stiff. "I think, sir," I said, "this paper Is yours. "I thank you," he answered, taking it. and eying me. "Is there anything be sides you wished to say?" "A great deal, maybe, if your name be Anthony." "Master Anthony Killigrew is my name, sir; now serving under Lord Bernard Stewart In His Majesty's troop of guards." "And mine is Jack Marvel," said I. ."Of the Yorkshire Marvels ?" "Why, yes; though but a shoot of that good stock, transplanted to Cumberland, and there sadly withered." ""Tis no matter, sir," said he politely; 'I shall be proud to cross swords with you." "Why, bless your heart!" I cried out, full of laughter at this childish punc tilio; "d'ye think I came to fight you?" "If not, sir" and he grew colder than ever1 you are going a very roundabout way to avoid it." Upon this, finding no other way out of it, I began my tale at once; but hard ly had come to the meeting of the two men on the bowling green, when he interrupts me politely "I think, Master Marvel, as yours is like to be a story of some moment, I will send this fellow back to" my lodgings. He's a long-earM dog that I am saving from the gallows for so long as my consciejee allows me. The shower is done, I see; so if you know of a retir'd spot, we will talk there more at our leisure." He dismiss'd his lackey; and stroll'd off with me to the Trinity Grove, where. walking up and down, I told him all I had heard and seen the night before. (To be continued.) TREE PLANTING IN MANILA. Philippine Paper Makes Plea for More Shade in Capital. A day for the planting of trees In not among the least of Manila's needs.' not because forests are In danger of being denuded and certain valuable species should be perpetuated in this way, but because the city Is dry, dusty ana less inviting tnan it would ue with ornamental trees, says the Manila Times. We need trees and breathing places; they would add much to the physical comfort of the city as well as artistic value. Who does not breathe a sigh of re lief as he leaves the hot glare that enshrouds the Bridge of Spain and finds himself protected by the sbadj from the fringe of trees along the Bagumbayan? There is certainly no reason why that popular drive should not be more completely lined with trees along Its entire length, except that what is everybody's business is not usually attended to with any notlceable expedition. There Is just a slight risk that in the rush and htirry of practical municipal development the esthetic may De relegated to an obscure corner. With bat little effort In the proper direction at this time, the practical and artistic may be. happily, blended, while If the latter fea ture Is permitted to lag It will be more difficult. to secure the desired result after considerable delay. A lawn around the public buildings when proper space can be secured, calms at the street entrance, a border of grass parallel to the sidewalk, will double the attractlvenes of a modern building. A noticeable and commendable step In the direction Indicated has been made about the new government building on the Bagnmbryan drive way. Let this feature be extended to other buildings which new appear rather desolate and scorched In comparison. In the new districts or Ermita, Malate and Paco there should and Drobably will be concerted action on the part of each householder to leave a certain amount of space for a proper lawn and ornamental shruDDery, a slight effort on the part of each would soon change a street from a hot, bare roadway to an Inviting vista of green. not only adding pleasure but profit to the residence portion of the city. Introduce Arbor day into tno schools: united action for one day In the year would soon bring telling re sults. We are In a position to ao now cheaply and easily what later will have to be done by legislation at far greater expense or left undone to the detriment of the general appearance and health of our dty. Willing to Give TTp. The beggar approached the baldheaded man who was enjoying his after-dinner cigar on the veranda. . "Please, sir," said the mendicant have you a copper you could spare?" "Sure, replied the man behind th weed. "You'll find him on the back porch making love to the cook.' Hard to Answer. Teacher If your mother bought four baskets of grapes, the dealer's price being 22 cents per basket, how much money would the purchase cost her? Tommy You never kin tell. Ma's great at bcatin them hucksters down, Philadelphia Press. VeryOÜ Mr. Border I don't see why yoa ob ject to ycur boy's eciicoliEj, ard thi school he goes to la up-to-date, too. Farmer Wayback Taln't cp-tcr date, at all; aa thaf cna rcsn why I cbjeck. Why, they're Irxrnin' thiaja l- 'U U X T V -11 . . 1

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CHAPTER XXII. When they arrived at the chemist's shop they found that the sufferer was still there, lying unconscious in the room at the back of the shop, while the police kept a crowd of gapers at bay outside. Two' medical men were engaged iu a heated argument about their respective diagnoses of the case, while Henri's groom stood by, waiting their decision. Helene and Adams were both well known to the chemist, and obtained immediate admission to the wounded man's presence. To Adams experienced eye even the most outward symptoms were at once conclusive. Iiis deadly pallor, his total unconsciousness, his cold, clammy skin, the arms and legs which were bent upon the body, the slow breathing and the transient shivering proved that Henri was suffering from concussion. In addition to this, his right leg was severely injured, his horse having stepped on him, and it was crushed and splintered below the knee. Adams, who was taken by the Frenchman to be an English colleague, ordered the patient's immediate removal to his rooms at the Hotel Birandot, where he occupied the whole of one floor, and Helene insisted upon herself and Adams accompanying him thither. When the doctors demanded absolute quiet for the wounded man, and forbid nil visits, Helene protested. "He will require a nurse," she pleaded, "and I am a very good one. I have had plenty of experience, and my time is my own. Do let me stay! I will be so careful!" "For the present, at any rate, my dear," said Adams, "such a thing cannot be. I do not know what can prompt j'ou to your course of action, but I will not ask you to explain." "You need not," rejoined Helene. "You would not understand my reasons if I gave them to you. But I may come back, may I not?" The doctors promised that as soon as their patient was in a state to be seen by anybody, permission should be granted to her. "Perhaps you will tell me. my dear," said Adams, as they were driving backto Helene's mansion, "who is this man in whom you are taking so great an interest? You say he saved your life. How was that?" "Henry Roberts is Henri Sainton," answered Helen, "who loved me when he was a boy and I a girl, and whom you sent to peual servitude. He is the Louisiana soldier of your battalion who saved me from being murdered by that horrible man outside of the Northern, picket lines." "What!" cried Adams. "Do you mean tu tell me that you can bear a kindly memory for the man who, whatever you may say, aided that man Quayle in his attempt upon your life?" "I remember," was Helene's retort, "that he saved my life at the risk of his own." There was no further assault after that defense. Adams bit his lip. and. when they had arrived at Helene's door, he left her with a simple "Good day, my dear." A fortnight passed, during which Helene called twice every day at Henri's hotel without being allowed to see him a fortnight portentous to the fate of Europe. War had kpen declared against Germany, and all Paris for the moment went mad. As the week wore on, came the news of disaster and defeat, and the foreign residents of Paris commenced to seek safer quarters. Helene had been untiring in her at tendance upon Henri all this while. The injured man had regained consciousness, but the surgeons still forbid all but the most casual conversation. A few weeks more passed, during which Henri rallied slowly, still with Helene as his faithful nurse and attendant. Thea came the news of the disaster of Sedan MaeMahon wounded, his army destroyed or captive, and the Emperor himself a prisoner. -All this was swiftly followed by the nation's vengeance in the form of the proclamation of the republic. Months passed, and Henri was still unable to rise frr m his couch. The injured leg had been put into a shield of plaster of pari, and motion was forbidden. In the meantime events around and about Paris had proceeded with hurricane pace. The enemy had drawn around the besieged city a line of iron and flame, and the thunders of war crashed and roared from every hillside around the city. All Helene's friends had left, all except Walter, faithful Walter, who was glad to find an excuse for staying in the acceptance of a- temporary post at the British embassy, so that he might remain near the woman he loved so much. Walter, however, took care not to let Helere know that he was s:;ill in Paris. He dil not wish to obtrude his presence upon her. His purpose was to watch over her, to protect her, if danger threatened, not to force his suit upon her when she seemed to be so happy in the society of another man. Winter came on apace, and the terrors of the siege increased, but Helene saw asd felt little of these. Being known to be possessed of immense wealth, the proprietor of the hotel in which she lived did his best so that she should feel. none of the privations which pressed upon nearly all the population. No man can be for any leugth'of time lu the daily society of a beautiful woman without feeling drawn toward her, and Henri, who first of all looked upon Heh ene merely as a woman who had betrayed him, and whom he might treat with Buch scant honesty as to his mind she deserved, gradually came to look for Helene's visits as for a necessity in his life. Thus it came quite naturally that Helene's love for Henri raised a harvest of affection on the barren, stony soil of the man's heart. Soon they both got to know that each knew that the other loved him Dr her. During all those long, weary months, Walter never ence approached Helene. Every day a messenger from the British embassy inquired at the two hotels :f;r llchne and Henri, but the man hni orders not to mention Walter's name Helene thought that Lord Yorley had . . instructions at the embassy that she be looked after, and that the British representatives in Paris did their best to carry out Lord Yorley's wishes. The year 1S70 had been terrible enough for poor, down-trodden France, and its encompassed capital, but 1871 added to the horrors. It seemed as if the judgment of an avenging heaven were heavy opon the frailest of the fra.'l among cities. Henri's recovery continued extremely slow. The doctors came every day, and stlTi forbid all exertion. Thus passed the first month of the new year. Then on a sudden the storm clouds parted asunder, and a streak of blue skr became visible oa the political-horizon. Paris capitulated to the Germans, and

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an armistice was signed, with peace, blessed peace, in the near distance. Adams had left Helene in anger, ne never believed that the siege would last for a month, and he dwelt in London eating his heart out with remorse and self-chiding. He had and could have no news from Helene, and he blamed himself for having left her in the hour of peril. When the news of the negotiations for peace reached London., he packed a handbag, and started for Paris by the night mail. High influence procured him a pass through which he was allowed to enterd the beleaguered city among the very first. It was a dark, dull winter morning when he presented himself at Helene's hotel, having learned her whereabouts from the servants at her mansion. Helene, when Adams name was given to her, simply muttered, "Oh, what a bore!" and prepared herself to receive her former protector with the best possible grace. The Louisianian perceived, however, before he had been in Helene's presence many minutes, that he was not overwelcome.- Helene's mind seemed to be away somewhere, and he shrewdly surmised that Henri was the cause of it. The next day was a very bright and sunny one, such as winter in Paris often brings, and the cheering rays streamed through the windows, and made the prisoner of so many days long to be without, in the sunlit gardens which he knew were at the end of the street, anywhere but in the room in which he had been chained to his couch for so many months. But that was impossible yet, although the doctors promised that in a few days perhaps a ride in a carriage might be permitted. . Helene, to alleviate the injured man's disappointment, ordered the attendants to move the soft to the window, and had Henri carried there. She was about to place a chair for herself at a little distance, when he beckoned to her and said: "There is room enough, if you will sit hre by me. I want you to sit quite close to me, because I want to look into your eyes, and to tell you something I have lonjred to say to you these days past." He took her dainty fingers in his hand aud pressed them gently while his eyes became troubled, as if for the first time he were afraid to address her "I may as well confess my sins to start with," he said, seeing that Helene w.is silent, "and then, perhaps, I may hope to be forgiven. I will tell you the truth. I hated you, my dear, when, you first came here. It had been my intention to humble you, to- bring you to my feet, and then to leave your heart to break. I knew not what was in store for me. You came day by day, and you crept into my heart hour by hour, slowly but as surely as fate itself, until now, were you to leave me, I should die of misery. My darling, I love you. I believe that you love me. When I cm strong enough and well enough, will you allow me to make you my wife?" She had turned her face to him as he was speaking, and had gradually drawn closer to him. He was feeble still, but he went forward and put his arms around her neck. She aided by a gentle movement, and he kissed her. She had answered him by her silent submission, while a joyful tear stole down her cheek. CHAPTER XXIII. They determined to be married at the British embassy in a month. As the days pas.--.ed, every one of which brought Helene's hopes of happiness nearer," the cloud of terror which had hung over fated Paris assumed a new and more aweinspiring shape. But a few weeks previously' the ene mies of France, the Germans, had threatened Paris, and held the population in awe, but now Frenchmen arrayed against Frenchmen, shedding one another's blood. maiming, slaying, destroying. The Prussions stood by, smiling with grim satis faction, while Frenchmen cut one an other's throats. The red flag of the Commune was unfurled, and Helene, sitting in Henri's room, coujd hear the rat tie of the musketry when scores of unarmed, inoffensive citizens were murdered in cold blood. Adams had gone away, flatly refusing to assist at the ceremony, either as witness or as friend. There was nobody left but Walter to stand in the place of father or brother for Helene, and Walter, true to . the last, accepted the post of torment. His position at the embassy made the task a trifle easier for him, but the bitterness of it had to be tasted, none the less. At last the morning of the lth of April, the day appointed for the w?dding, dawned. At 11 o'clock they w.?re to be married at the British em bassy. It was noon, and the fateful ceremony was over. Henri and Helene were man and wife according to English law. Wal ter had stood by with an icy tooth gnaw Ing at his heart and tearing at it, but he had borne himself like a man, and the worst of the pain was past. There was to be a simple luncheon, only nenri, Helene, Walter and eight or ten intimate friends joining in it, Helene had gone to her room, in the company of two or three ladies, to change her dress, and the gentlemen were in the dining room when on a sudden the room was Invaded by a dozen or more guards, fully armed, headed by a man whose gold-laced cap indicated an officer's rank, although his blue blouse, his drink-sodden face, his whole appearance, indicated a drover or a butcher. The gentlemen in the room all rose in surprise. But they were not long left in doubt about the reason of the intrusion. "We have caught you at last,' said the officer, blinking and hiccoughing as he went on. ' "Citizen Henri Sainton, who calls himself monsieur mark you," he Faid, turning to his soldiers "mark you, Monsieur Henry Roberts. This fine monsieur is a French citizen, and, what do you think? He grows rich millions and millions of francs and he does not give his poor country a thought. He neither serves his country, nor does he pay. Therefore, Monsieur Henri Sainton," with an emphasis on the monsieur, "we will take you to prison and the Commune will decide what shall be done with ! you." 1 . ' ' . "I have served my ' country," cried Henri, rising in anger. "I have served the cause of French liberty, when you were probably hiding behiud casks.. I fought for the Reds in '4S, and I was shot and sent to the galleys for having done so. And now you come and tell me that I have not done my duty to the Commune." "You can explain all that to the General when you see him," hiccoughed the Communist. "But I warn you, Citizen Henri Sainton, that he is not a credulous kind of man, if you make your tale not very plausible he will have you shot for lying. He is very quick-tempered, and be is nasty when he is angered." You surely see, sir,", interposed Walter, "that this gentleman Is an invalid.

the army or the Commune either for months past, because he has been confiued to his room." "The citizen can explain all he wants to the General, ne can urge any excuse he likes. I don't think it will help him much. I am in a hurry, and if you please, Citizen Henri Sainton, we will go away together." Resistance was, of course, useless, and Henri submitted quietly, while two sullen-faced fellows, their semblance of uniforms stained with blood, took him, one by either arm, and pushed him roughly along, as he was not yet active enough to proceed at the pace they required. They were already on the landing when Helene came flying down the staircase. She saw at a glance what had occurred, and, with a womanly disregard of consequences, she darted upon the soldiers who guarded her husband and flung herself between them. "Who is that woman?" cried the officer. And Henri replied: "She is my wife." "I don't care whether she is your wife or your daughter, or your mother, or your grandmother. Push her back, some of you! And bring this man along." One of the villains gripped Helene's arm and dragged Henri away from her. She had been brave enough years ago, when her own life was in danger. But now, with her heart throbbing for the man who held her hope of happiness on earth, calm reason seemed to be dashed from her, and Helene felt herself staggering. Then all grew dark around her, and for the space of a second or two the poor woman stood with raised arms wildly writhing in the air. Then she fell forward, being caught by Walter, who had stepped forward in the nick of time. CHAPTER XXIV. It was that awful week in May, 1871, which Frenchmen to this day call "th terrible week." Psris was in flames. A cloud of smoke and a canopy of fire hung over the doomed city. All night the sky had beeu one lurid crimson sheet, and even the rising king of day had not been able to entirely chase away the bloodied hue of the firmament. Barricade after barricade was taken by the soldiers of France, who paid with their blood the price of the rescue of an awe-stricken populace. The revolutionists who had intended to make Paris their booty and France their plaything were being driven from street to street. from barricade to barricade, from house to house, until at last only the northeastern portion of the city remained in their clutches. But they did not moan to die without revenging themselves upon the innocent, .helpless beings whom they held as hostages. Nigh on three hundred prominent citizens, headed by the Archbishop of Taris and the vicar geueral of the diocese, had been imprisoned as hostages. As bit by bit of Paris was wrenched from the hands of the Communards, these were taken to the prison of La Roquette, Henri among them. Helene passe! her days in endeavoring to beseech the granite hearts who governed Paris for mercy for her husband. Her nights were endless hours of agony of waiting, when heaven seemed to have closed its portals to her prayer, and even her scalding tears left her heart shivering, frigid as ice. When at last the crashes of the cannons of the regulars, and the volleys of their rifles, told her that the end was coming, a new dread sprang upon her. What if the revolutionists were to carry out their threats to murder those poor men whom they held as hostages? She flew to the Conciergerie, and arriving there just in time to see a score or so of open carts, guarded 'by a motley crew of soldiery, being taken along the road by the Seine. In answer to her question whither the miserable wretches were being taken, she was told to La Roquette. To La Roquette! That surely meant death. La Roquette was the prison of the condemned. . The guards pushed her roughly back, when she attemptojj to cvt i.ear poor Henri. He saw her n-om the distance of a dozen paces, and smiled sadly and kissed his hand to her. Once more she hastened to the Hotel de Ville, where for the nonce she found one of the Central Committee, more lighthearted or more reckless than the rest. "So your husband is at La Roquette," he said, "and you want to go to him there, my pretty lady. We will show you that we are gentlemen, and that we do everything we can to please pretty ladies. You shall go ard see your husband. I wish I were he." The paper was signed and in Helene's hands. She reached La Roquette, and her pass procured her entrance. She had to wait hours, however, before she was allowed to see Henri. At last one of the keepers came and called her name, "Citizeness Sainton!" and after tramping with the man up staircases and through corridors which seemed to her to be without end, she was thrust into a big room with bare stone walls, and two little windows guarded by bars of forbidding strength. There were other ladies there as heartbroken, as sorely stricken as herself, seated with their husbands on the rough' wooden ' benches. Henri met her, and she sank into his arms like a stone that is dropped into the water. Cold as ice, and seemingly lifeless, he clasped her to his breast. "Don't grieve for me, my dear, he said. "I know what is going to happen to me, and I am prepared. But you must not suffer for having joined your fate to mine. This will soon be over, and then you can go away to your own country. I know there are other men who love you, perhaps quite as well as myself perhaps better, if that be possible and one of these will make you happy. . "No," she sä id, "surely they would not dare to murder you. You have done no wrong.' "That is no reason," he replied. "I am rich, you see, and that is my crime. My wealth brought me the happiness of youv love, alas! to be lost so soon." Thus they sat, hand in hand, for an hour perhaps, she leaning her wet cheek against his, he comforting and soothing her in her sorrow. Then the jailer came again, and told her that the time of the isit was over, and that she must go. "Let me stay only a little while I pray you." let me stay!" she pleaded. The man' replied that it was impossible. The others all left the room by twos and twos, the men to return to their cells, the women to go forth into the burning city. One of the officers of the jail returned at hist with the jailer, and found Helene with Henri. . "You must really go, citizeness," he said. "'hen the door of this corridor closes, you will no longer be able to leave. Make your choice. Go! For you can only stay here as a prisoner." "Good!" replied Helene, rising with the dignity of a captive queen. "Close the door. I will stay as a prisoner." Monday had passed, and Tuesday was gone, aud it was . Wednesday evening. Huddled in one corner of the prison yard stood some four or five score doomed men, while a little further away a company of Communist infantry were drawn up facing the high gray-stone wall of the yard. An oQcer called out a list of, names, commencing with that of the ArchU'ahop

of Paris, and following :t up with those of about a ?core of ecclesiastical dignitaries. The archbishop, still in a portion of his robes, bare-headed and smiling calmly like a martyr of oM. walked slowly to the wall, and placed himself there. The others followed in his footsteps, and a row of priest-martyrs faced the muskets. The archbishop was.standing with one hand raised, blessing his murderers, when "Ready! Fire!" cried the officer. And the score or so were dashed to ths ground by the iron hail, while the graj stones were bespattered with red blotches. Another list of names Henri's nami this time among them. Helene, who had been standing with Henri, clasping hand in hand, clung to him. A soldier gripped her by the neck, and flung her aside, as if she were a log. Half stunned and sorely hurt, Helen dragged herself to her feet and flew to where her husband was standing among the pile of the dead, and locked her arms around his neck. "Citizeness!" cried the oScer. "Out of the way, or it will be your own fault!" "I shall stay here with my husband, and die with him here," was Helene'i calm reply. Without a second's pause the officei again cried, "Ready! Vire!" All was over. Henri and Htlene feD together, hand in hand. (The end.)

WHAT HORSE POWER MEANS. Term Kef er to Work Done by th Average Horse in a Minute. What is the relative amount of work that a man can do in comparison with a horse or machinery? At his very best the- strongest man stands iu pretty poor comparison, even with a horse, for bard, continuous labor. He might perform for a few minutes one-half horse power of work, but to keep tli? up for any great length of time would be impossible. Tii;is the gain in forcing horses to do a part of the world's v.ork was enormors. Ono horse could exhaust a dozen men in a single dor, and tf!l ready for the next day's work. The measurement of a horse's io-.v-er for work was first ascertained by Watt, the father of the uioderu steam engine, and lie expressed th.s in terms that hold to-day. He expurimentel with a great nuinTer of h avy brewery horses to satisfy himself that his unit of measurement for work was correct After many trials he ascertained that the average brewery horse was doing work equal to that required to raise 3T.0 pounds of weight 1K feet hi-h in one minute, or 33,000 pounds one foot in one minute. So he called this one horse power. This work, however, is not continuous, for the horse would have to bacli up after each pull to lower the line of the pulley, and thus be would worlt four hours a day in pulling 3SG pound In the air at the rate of 100 leet a miaute, and four hours in slacking up llie rope. Consequently no horse can actually perforin continuously what is generally called one-horse power. The horse was never born that could tug at a rope for eight hours a day, pulling C30 pounds 100 feet each minute without rest or change. Consequently, v lien we speak of horse power we refer only to the average work a horse can do in one minute, that is to say, the rate at which he can work. A strong man might pull half that weight 100 feet in the air in two min utes, but he could not repoat the operation many times without being exhausted. For all needful purposes the expression of one horse power is accurate enough and practically shows the measurement of an average horse's abilities for working. As u mle a strong man can In eight hours work at the rate of about one-tenth of one horse power; that is, it would require ten men to pull 330 pounds ltK) feet in the air In a minute and then slack up and repeat the operation throughout the eight hours of a w orking day. The world's gain In labor when horses were first employed to help man in hit work was tbus tenfold. St. Nicholas. WOMEN VERY POORLY PAID. Those Who Do Drawn Work in Mexico Are Under Peon Contracts. The woman who makes drawn work on a Mexican estate is not an Independent worker to whom comes the money for all the work her deft hands accomplish. She is a woman whose father or brother or uncle or mother Is in debt to the "great Dom" She can do the drawn work, so the Den's agent supplies her with linen or lawn, a frame and the requisite implements and indicates the design that she is to follow, for though you may not know it, there are fashions In crawn work quite as exclusive and quite as popular as there are in women's hats, for instance. When ber work Is done that ioor woman can not fare forth to market and offer it for sale. It is. by the terra of her peon contract, perhaps al.eudy sold to the "great Don," whose tfnant she is. Miguel, his agent, takes the work, by now as grimy as the overalls of an engineer; be has kept account of the time the woman has been engaged upon It, and for each of the many days she may have worked he gives her 7, 8, 9, at most 12 cents, but never the last amount unless she be a thorough mistress of her craft. Once a year the Mexicans for whom the women do this work, somewhat as the sweat-shop toilers of Chicago and New York drive their needles for a master, meet in solemn conference and determine what the prices hall be. So great is the popularity of drawn work generally that the supply never equals the demand and the profits made by tbe Mexican masters of the drawn work "trust." for it is really that, are enormous. The de.iler pays these "operators" what they demand and they demand much. Then-fore the buyer pays $40 for a "doth" that cost the "manufacturer" 12 cents a day, labor hire, for, say, ninety days, to produce. Chicago Chronicle. Tied and Untied. There is a tied in the affairs of men; That tied is frequently the marriage knot There Is an untied just a surely when The work of the divorce court hies the spot. Illinois State Journal. Lazy men like to fish and hunt fish for suckers and hunt soft snaps.