Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 April 1891 — Page 2

THE MASTER OF THE MINE.

By Robert Buchanan.

CHAPTER XXIX—CostiXTED. * As (or the chance ot ary stray rumor reaching me concerning changes at St. ’’Gurlott’a. it was fnily'as remote as if I had been a dwelled on the other siue of the carpi. The village where I dwelt resemble! an island surrounded 7by 4a itohhMgable sea; and the people in it knew as much or more of Kamsehatka as they knew of St- Gurlot'.’s, Fforh generation to generation, that dwelt apart; Troglodytes of the oiino. they know of nothing beyond it. Very fe vv among t era had 6'er beheld the sea though itanenrest point of coast was under forty miles distant. 1 The place eor.ta nod a church and a school home: the former a sort of a chapel of ease of the Rev. —William Ste, henson. known as Billy S ephen*©o, ihe famous "hunting parson ” the latter superintended by'a schoolmi>tresß about'’ one degree removed aliose the igno: ai.ee of the children she taught, or was supposed to teach. Billy Stephenson or his deputy preached a sermon every Sunday, generally a short one. and conventional in its news of both this world and another; but the reverend gentleman was most welcomed when he rode over on week day business, marrying, burying, or visiting the sick, and when his conversation was secular, not to say horsey, in the character, l-.ver top-booted, spurred, and rondy for a gallop after the fox or the wild red-deer, and ever ready to exchange a coarse joke or repartee with the moanest of his parishioners. he was highly popular; though it is needless to say that he did Rule or nothing, .shining light though he wn\ to scatter the mental darkness of his savage Hock. One Sunday, the second after my arrival, ns I was preparing to go and hear tbi* worthy preacher (having just seen him pus- by at a trot, riding in the direction of the old church* I was astonished to see a light country cart draw up at the door, containing John Rudd "and imy cousin Annie. Startled, and fearing some bad news, I stepped out to greet them.aod learned that they had driven over from Barmouth. a town some twenty miles distant, where they had arrived in the carrier's wagon on th'previo.is night. I assisted Annie down, and saw that 6he was very pale and trembled. Then while. J.oJhn Rudd drove away to the beer-house, where he w.is to put up the i or.-o, I led my cousin into the cot'age. D redly wo were alone, she burst into tears*- • •‘Something has happened,” I cried. “Speak, Annie! don’t keep me in suspense! Is anything wrong at home?” My fear was that some evil had befallen my poor uncle, but I was immediately'reassured. ••A.Ts well at home, Hugh dear; it's not that which brought me over. I came to te.l you that the marriage, day is fixed. They are to be married in - St. <»urlot-.V next Wednesday morning ” I knew of whom she spoke, though she mentioned no names and I was both surprised and angry that she should travel to me with so sorry a message. She saw the dqrknoss feathering on my face, and cried eagerly: "Hugh dear, don’t be angry! I felt I must oorae and tell you—for oh! it is breaking my heart, as well as yours.” 1 looked at her in amazement. ‘•Breaking your hear;?” I echoed. '•Whatis it to you?” "It is everything to me. Master George, though he is going to wed Miss Graham.- is my- husband in the sight of God i” "Then 1 was right!” I cried. "I was right from the first The villain! —HeTed-yrm from ytmrharng” 1 * ~ She bent her head in weeping acquiescence. All my spirit arose once ! more against her. for though i had i suspected the truth, her confession j came up. n me like a thunderbolt. I I looked at her in horror as Stretching out her hands pitifully to me, she proceeded; \ ‘‘Hugh, dear, I promised that I would one day tell you everything, and it is for that I came. I wa ted on till the j last 1 thought to hold my peace, I j hoped and prayed that he would not ) go so fur; but wheir I heard the day was fixed, my mind was made up—to hold my peace no more. Bat first I went to him, and prayed to him on my knees. Then, finding that it was all In vain, I determined to come here.” ••You are speaking of George Redruth ?” 1 asked sternly. { ,*.• Ye»—ot the young master." * "You left home in his company? You wire togdtfier in London?” 1 “God help mo—yesi’l •‘Why have you screenod him so long?” ‘•Because I made him a promise. Becau e I believed until the very last that be might make amends. Because j —because—l did not wish to see him harm, d! Oh, Hugh, forgive me'don’t at me like that! You promised to lie a brother to me always. Keep your promise now.” Hew could 1 resist her sad appeal? I was a churl to repulsq her, even for j a moment. But, casting off the mask ! of sever'ty. I kissed ner. and placed her in a chair. As she looked up at me with her pleading tearful eyes. I j ailently cursed the , scoundrel who had j been the cause of her trouble, but for \ her, poor girl, £ had only sympathy >and love. Then a thought crossed my mind: and I a iced eagerly: * "Have you spoken of this to anyone hlSe? Ikies my uncte know?” £ She shook her head: * "No one knows but yourself,” she replied. "How could I speak of it to Anyone but you"?” . "So much the better. I returned

vfivil enpu£h haacome of this already, and 1 would not for the world that it -ho Id reach the old man’s ears, tie bel.ete* George Redruth blameless. God knows wh it be might do if hoj knew him to be as guilty as you say.” , Fo.lof the new thoughts,,her confession had awakened, Twalked up and down the : oouit alter adititie while 1 ‘bent over her again, and took her band. ■ • —- "Amrib, l' must know everything; not part of the truth, but the whole; then, perhaps. I can help you. But first, about this marriage? You say it is'now a certain thing?” —__ • Yes. Hugh. That is why I canto.’, "You did well,” I answered. "Now ( tell me the story.” She obeyed me, and I listened in dedp agitation. Simply, clearly, she described to mo all that had taken place, from the day she had first left her home.

CHAPTER XXX. annie’s story. It was a long and painful story, delivered not consecutively, but brokenly, in a series of vivid episodes; and so agitated WaaT hy what ITieard that it was some time before 1 was able to piece it all together. At last, however, the whole truth was made clear to me; add Ishall now do my beat, in form, to make it clear to the reader. For a long time Annie had resisted George Redruth’s solicitation that she should leave her home. Her whole nature revolted against the pain which such a step might cause; besides, he had persistently averred that it was his intention to make her his wife, and AnDie. bro lght up as 6he had been, with a s’ tuple faith in human nature, since all was straight and honorable, for so much secrecy in the matter. ■•lt would break my father's heart," she said to him, again and again, "It will bring dishonor upon my home and upon myself. Why should wo act so?”

But George Redruth was specious in his pleading. He pointed out to her that since they were to bo married, there would be no dishonor. That if her good mme was tarnished for a time through enforced secrecy of the whole proceedings, it would suine all the brighter afterwards,’ and as for himself—why. he would love her a hundredfold for this slight sacrifice; in fact, ho took full advantage of his genthm mly manners and superior education to lure her on to destruction. •T am sure ho really and truly loved me then,” said poor Annie, as she re-count-d those sconces to me. "Ah. Hugh, the™ was love in his voice and in his eyes, real true love that no one could doubt;., and was it, any wonder then that I never doubted it? When ho took mo in his a -ras and kiss 'd me I feit that 1 could go to sleep and never wish to waken again.” Nevertheless, poor Annie brought all the strength of her nature to her aid, and resisted him almost to the last. "" , Even after she had finally been brought to consent to his proposition, she repented before many hours had passed away, and went to him again wlth-a deter:nination in break with him once and for all. It was the night preceding that on which she left her home. They had arranged not to meet again, but Annie,reckless of consequences, had sent a note to him, asking him to meet her. She got no answer to the nbte, but at ten o’clock, the time she had named, she went to their usual place of meeting, and hero she was soon joined by George Redruth. He looked impatient, and even angry. Instead of taking her in his arms and kissing her as usual,he began to chide her for her thoughtlessness in sending up the note. "If my mother had seen it,” he said,

And questioned m about it,it -would have boen awkwai-d. What do you want. AnnieP I thought everything; was settled last night.” ginning to tremble at her own boldness. ‘‘But I wanted to see you tonight to say that I have changed my mind.” “Changed your mindJ What the deuce do you mean?” “Just this, sir,” continued Annie, who grew bolder as she went on. “I am sure that what we are going to do is not right and can never bring happiness to any soul; let us just wait as we are, and be as we are till you can marry me openly and take me to your home.” ••You are a little fool,” returned Redruth impatiently; “but you will find lam not to be befooled. If you wish to break with me say so, and we will not see each other after to-night." It would have been well for poor Annie if she could have taken him at his word; but, alas! it was too late. He had made her love him so passionately, that sooner than lose him altogether, she felt she would make any sacrifice on earth. Therefore she clung helplessly to him, sobbing bitterly. “Do, do not go from me—l cannot bear to lose you!" He saw he had gained his point, and grew soft again. He laid her head On his shoulder, stroked her tear-stained cneek. and kissed her. “Oh; Annie, Annie,” he said, “you are a silly little think. When you talk as you did just now, you make me think that you don't care for me at all, and that your only reason in wishing to marry me is the temptation to fill the position I offer you as my wife. My dear, if I did not love you so de- ' votedly I should not doubt your love. They say to love is to have implicit faith: you have no faith in me!" “Oh, yes?-1 have!” ••Then why not show it? Come, tell me‘that! Why hesitate and cry as If I am about to bring you to some dire distress? Yet, after all, what have I asked you to do? Only what hundreds' of girls have done before you—to be married secretly instead of openly, to

conceal the fact of our marriage for a few weeks only, and then tocomabnck with-me, my honored wife, to share my home.” 4 Yes; the story was specious enough: little wonder indeed that Annie was befooled, seeing that she loved him so. Once more she promised implicit obedience to ail his. .wishes, and left him , - • - - It was the last*- night she was to spend in the cottage, and during that night she never closed her eyes; but she lay awake, watching the moOtibeams as they crept in at the window, thinking of all that was passed and what might possibly lay before her: If George Redruth had spoken fait^y—and why. she asked herself, should she doubt him?—she had really very little to dread. If father —and n o her suffered pajn at her sudden flight, it would be for such a very little while; and afterwards the great joy whieh her return would bring them would make amends for all. Still; Ancle was not satisfied; her training had been rigid, and now her conscience troubled her sorely; but it'was too late to>epentosince thaj interview of the night before she felt she dare not dis- | obey her lover. She rose early and came out of her bedroom while my uncle aDd I were preparing to pay oar early visit to the mine. We were both astonished to soe her up, but she said, as an excuse for her excessive paleness, that she had a bad headache and could not rest in bed. My uncle took her face between his hands and kissed it fondly, murmurings: ■ . "This won’t do; we maun ha’ roses in these cheeks o’ yourn. What would I do wi’oot my little lass!” Annie stiff ed a sob, and turned awhy with her eyes full of tears. She put on her hat and walked with us half the way to the mine—a thing she had never done before. She held my uncle's hand all the way. I remember, and asked him to kiss her when she decided to go back and make things ready for the day at horns. We got home rather earlier thatr usual that evening, and when we reached tne cottage we found Annie busy setting out the things for tea. It had been baking-day, and it seemed as if she ha i been assisting at the work, for

her cheeks were flushed now, and all her listless tearful manner of the morning had entirely disappeared. I could not help noticeing that her h inds tremb ed, that she seemed excessively nervous, and was strangely eager to anticipate my unelo’s every wish. My aunt rebuked her once or twice for what she termed her light,-headeduess. but Annie only put her arms round my neck and kissed her. "Don’t scold, mother, don’t dfcold,” she said, "you wouldn’t like it if I wasn’t here!” We sat up pretty late that night, and Annie was amongst the last to retire. When my un.de rose to go to bed, Annie kissed him several times, and my aunt rebuked her again for her foolishness. Then Annie kissed her again and again. "You don’t mean half you say, you love me!” When we had all retired, and Annie found herself in her room atone, she sat down and cried very bitterly. Her last adieus had been said, the time for her departure was near at hand, and all her spirit seemed going. Again she hesitated; and had she been left to herself that night, that fatal step would never have been taken. Suddenly she started: a faint whistle reached her from without. Hurriedly drying her eyes, she opened the window. There was George Redruth, standing just outside. "Are you ready, dearest?” he whispered. “Yes!” she replied. “Is there anyone about?” “No! they are all in bed; I think they mu9t be asleep. It is getting late, isn’t it?” “It is close on midnight: Give me out what things you are going to take —I hope it isn’t much—and then come round and join me at the door.” Annie had collected a few necessaries, and they were made up into a small parcel. She lifted it, and as she did so her tears-began to flow afresh. With the parcel in her hands, she returned to the window. “George!” “Yes, darling?” "Are you sure I am doing right? Are you sure you will bring me back very soon, so that I do not cause them much pain?” "Haven’t I sworn it? and yet you doubt me. If you are going to be foolish again, you will drive me from you; and Heaven, knows what the consequence may be. Come, we have no time to lose; be brave, it is your only chance”

‘•Very well, I will trust you,” she said, as she handed the little packet to him and he closed the window. It was the work-of a moment to clothe herself in her thickest cloak and darkest. plainest bonnet; then she hurriedly disarranged the bed, and left the room. She was trembling violently, and crying like a child. She paused at the door of the room where her mother and father were sleeping; and kneeling there, prayed to God to forgive her for what she was about to do* Even then, ehe paused and hung back; but George hedruth, growing impatient, entered the kitchen and took her forcibly away. -■ ’.■■■■ It wa9 midnight and pitch dark; there was not a soul abroad. Holding the parcel with pne hand, and clutching the girl firmly with the other,: George Redruth 3 hurried her off. Where they went she could not tell, but they soon came upon a dog-cart and a high stepping bay. Annie learned afterwards that this had been driven out fram Falmouth that evening by Johnson, who stood there

wailing for hfir now. George Red rut! addressed him: ’< "Is all rea ty?” 4 "It is, sir?”' . • "The horse fresh?” ’ «‘Yerv.” "That’s all right. Remember mj j instructions and carry them put to the letter.” . He tossed up the little bundle,kissed Annie and li ted her in: tiieD, before she could utter a syllable, Johnson sprang In and they were off, leaving George .Redruth behind them. Now. iD alt' his conversations with Annie, George Redruth had -aid nothing of this plan of sending her away with Johnson, fearing, no doubt, that if sh@ knew her lover was not to accompany he;* all her courage would go. Wnen. there ore, she found herself in this plight, poor Annie’s distress increased, and she asked some explanation of her companion. “It’s all right,"he answered, kindly enough, "He can’t come to-night, but he'll join us in London."” G | Meantime,the horse a very fast trot--1 ter, was speeding aioug at a rapid rate, covering mile as er mile, and pi raging further and further into the darkness. ■ About 6 o’clock in the morning they drove into Falmouth and pulled up the steaming horsp before the door of the best inn. The travelers were evidently <yc peeled, for there wa3 a porter and a groom sitting up for them; and while tbe groom took possession of the horso, Johnson himself conduct d Annie to her room and left her at Ihe door. “You have only a few hours to rest,” he said, ' we must catch tne 11 o’clock boat for Portsmouth.” Left to herself, Annie threw off her cloak and hat and looked around the room. It was a pretty chamber,much grander than, anything she had ever been accustomed to before. There were dainty hangings to the bed and pretty dimity curt tins to the windows. Moreover there was a cheerful fire burning in the grate. Beside the hearth there was a largo, comfortable looking easy chair, into whieh- she throw herself. ' She had not closed her eyes for two nights, and was utterly weary, both in mind and body; and as her head fell back upon the soft cushions of the chair she fell into a sound sleep. She was awakened by a loud knocking at the door. She started up; it was broad daylight, the fire was out, and the room looked cold and cheerless. She opened the door and found the chambermaid standing outside with a jug of hot water in her hand. _ ‘•lt’s 10 o'clock, miss” said the girl. ‘‘The gentleman says you shall have your, breakfast here in a quarter of an hour.” Dazed and half stupefied, Annie took the jug from the girl's hands, and closing the bedroom door again, began to arrange herself for the day. At the end of the fifteen minutes the chambermaid returned with the breakfast temptingly arranged on a tray; a few minutes later Johnson made his appearance. Instead of standing at the door as the chambermaid had done he entered the room and closed the door behind him, - ■ ••All ready?” lie began cheerfully. “That’s all right!” Then his qu.ck eye fell upon the bed and. the breakfast. and he gave a pecrllar whistle. ■•Come, this won’t do,” he said; ‘;no sleep and no food; you'll wear yourself out, my dear!” These words, spoken rather kindly, touched Anpie’s heart, and she began to cry. "I can’t go on, Mr. Johnson, she said. “I know ray coming away has been a mistake. I should like to go back again!” (To be continued.)

A Dead Cat Mine.

It was the mau on whose land natural gas was first struck in the Findlay, 0., district, says the New York Sun, and he Was telling some of us about it as he waited iu the depot at 'CoTumtTuSC “Wall, you know,” he began, “my son Bill was a great hand to read. One day he laid away"a book' he had been reading and says to me: "Dad, I’ve been reading up on minerals aud I’m goin’ to find sunthin’ right here on our farm.’ " ‘Shoo, Bill,’ says 1, ‘but you won’t find nothin’ outside of the cobble stones aDd worms.’ *

‘ But he went at it and began to dig, and bore, and fool around, and leave me to hne the corn, and o e day he struck sunthin’. There come sich an infernal smell that both of us was drove to the house, and then the smell got so bad that we was drove to a neighbor's, aud we had to let tho hogs out of the pen or they would have kce ei over “ ‘Bill,’ I says, when I got where I could breathe again, -you said you’d strike sunthin’ and you have. You’Ve wasted three months t.me gittin’ down to where Christopher Columbus buried about a million tom cats and we’ve all been driv off the farm in consekence. It’s my turn now to strike sunthin’ and you kin git ready for the oilfiredest lickin’ a boy ever got. ’ j ’ “I give it to him, gentlemen, and then I went spookin’ around to find somebody who’d buy the farm at about the cost of the barn. A feller who 6eemed to have catarrh and didn't mind the smell closed up a deal with me, and I had to grin as I walked off with his money uuder my arm. I kept on grinnin’ fur about a week, and then I heard some news that stopped me aud I guess it’s three years since I’ve opened my mouth sideways. Them dead cats was worth #IOO,OOO to me, and I sold ’em for SSUO and walked around patting myself on the back for bein’ so alitired cute.” Mr. Lozier Hope—May I—l—speak to your father. Miss Cole? Miss Vera Cole—lt is useless, Mr, Hope—l can never be your wife. Mr. Lozier Hop • —Excuse me, I wish to speak to him about that #ls he borrowed of me week before la“t. I’m getting a little nervous about it

OUR PLEASURE CLUB.

From the Indianapolis Hosier ms WOXDY-RFUL ABVEXTCW3OF KIMP-OP BILKIXS, :

I.— V n Bilkixs says that be nr—r went hshinj in his life without catching something.

ll.—He once stood unarmed within ten feet o to African lion.

1 lII.—He has has many suake adventures.

IV.—He nearly lost his life in an exciting affal vith a grizzly.

V.—Once had a hand to hand encounter with I ith he had reason to believe was a shark.

VL—AjW eve* killed a mad dog.

Cost of Congressional Funerals.

hit’:go News. The recently published stories abou' the Cost of congressional funerals have been very great exaggerations. 1 nstead of the funeral of the late Senator Miller of California costing SBO,OOO the actual expenditure was #7,880. and instead of the funeral of the late Senator Beck of Kentucky costing #60,000 the actual expenditure wu #4,428.

SOMETHING ABOUT ICE.

Once it was aGr -at Ijax-irr, Now It usOommon Necessity. At bne time In the; world’s Astory Ice was considered a great luxury, and only the rich could enjoy which isnow looked upon as an absolue necessity. In ancient days snow was used as a substitute. It was brought from the mountains and stored away in pitsdug in the. earth, and was covered with non-conductors of heat and also pro* tected it from the air. | , Mention of this fact is made In the proverbs of Solomon, and it is frequently alluded to in the writing* of the an jient Greeks and Romans. It la i still in vogue in Italy, who re the snow' gathered in the Appeaines is brought by tbe peasants to the principal cities and stored in cellars made especially for that purpose. In many parts ot France and England the wealthy have ice houses built on their estates, and fill them with ice from the neighboring lakes and streams. It was not until 1815 that ice was publicly sold in London and then in very small quantities. . I known foe at least 200 years. They were at first very primitive affairs, being nothing more than deep cellars, th s flooring made of boards or stone, .•upon which was placed a layer of straw or sawdust. The sides were lined with boards set about a foot from the wall, and this space was filled in with sawdust, tanbark or straw.! A rough, thatched roof completed the structure, which was then filled with ice. between the layers of which tanbark or sawdust was strewed. I. As a matter of course, the supply of cut ice was very limited for a long time, and it was not until about fifty years ago that it became a commodity, admitting of purchase by persons of moderate means, In New York City alone, at the present day, the yearly consumption of ice amounts to about 1,000,000 tons. In addition to its employment for cooling water and other beverages, in the course of time its value a 3 an agent for preserving meats, fruits, etc., was recognized, and as a consequence the demand for it was greatly increased. Trustworthy authorities state that the use of ice for preventing the decomposition of dead bodies was known in the early -days, as there was a tribe in Finland which, during the latter part of the seventh century, preserved the bodies of their dead fpr mauy months without emoalming them,using either snow or ice for the purpose. The first person to attempt to export ice from this country to foreign lauds was an Arneric m named Tudor, and although his first shipment, in 1805, met with poor success, he at lost established the business on a firm bis is. Now it is shipped to tropical climes and proves a paying industry. In many warm countries, however,the sole supply of ice depends upon ita artificial manufacture, as it would bo impossible to export it without absolute loss. .Of late years the manufaos tore of artificial ice has assumed large proportions in the United States, the high price and scarcity at times of tho natural article requiring the employment of cheaper means of production.

SOMEWHAT CURIOUS.

A microscopic examination shows that the word ‘‘hello” makes 16.000 indentations in a phonographic cylinder. B « A Barre, Vt.. man is eighty-five years of age and has thirty-nine children, thirty-seven of whom are girls. The “old slave market,” which is pointed out to every Northern visitor in St. Augustine, never saw the Bale of a single slave. In thirtv-flve parishes of Louisiana the colored people outnumber the whites in Borne oases in proportion of fifteen to one. A Nebraska competitor in a guessing contest came within one of the exact population of that State as given in the census returns. A turnip measuring four feet in circumference and weighing fifty pounds is on exhibition at the New Whatcom, Wash., Chamber of Commerce. ' The earth’s fifteen hundred millions of human inhabitants speak 3,034 different languages, and possess about one thousand different religious beliefs. t A Frenchman has recently discovered, near Thebes, in Egypt, a large eave containing 240 sarcophagi, the oldest of which dates back 2,600 years B. C. The rose gardens around ParU have been ruined by the severe winter. They gave employment to six thousand persons, and will no doubt be replaced. The youngest public school ma'am In the world lives at Bernville, Pa. She has forty scholars, began teaching six month’s ago and is only thirteen years of age. j Seventeen hundred Sioux are members of the Episcopal Church, and Baptists, Catholics and Congregationalists are also well represented among them. ' 1 vThe amount of nutritive matter afforded by Indian corn is inferior only to (hat of wheat and rtce. In the quantity raised and use for food, it is inferior to rice alone. It seems hard that a man 137 years old, who has been the husband of nine wives and the father of forty-six children. must end his days in the Chat* tanooga poor house. He ought to have the freedom of all Tennessee. A Paris tobacconist, who had perhaps been lin America, advertised a certain cigar to be “the best in the world for .» it is ” He was arrested, failed to prove it ‘‘the best,” and fl ted sio for “malicious intention to djceiye.’