Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 August 1894 — Page 2

SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE HIGHT.

“Will you come and help me to some photographs?” he asked cheerily. “You do not need to have a straight eye for that.” Then as they went along together he said: “When we come to think about it seriously it is rather absurd for us to expect to have uninterrupted stretches of happiness. Happiness falls to our share in separate detached bits, and those of.us who are wise content ourselves with these broken fragments? 1 “But who is wise?” Bernardino asked. “Why, we all expect to be happy. Still no one has told us. It is the true instinct of human nature. ” “It would be interesting to know at what particular period of evolution into our present glorious types we felt that instinct for the first time,” he slid. “Thesunshine must have had something to do with it. You see how a dog throws -itself down in the sunshine; the most wretched cur heaves a sigh of content; the sulkiest cat then begins to purr.” They were standing outside of the room set apart for the photograph maniacs of the Kurhaus. “I cannot go into that horrid little hole,” Bernardine said. “And, besides, I have promised to play chess with the Swedish professor. And after that I am going to photograph Marie. I promised Warli I would.” The Disagreeable Man then smiled grimly. ' “I hope he will be able to recognize her," he said. Then, feeling that he was on dangerous ground, he "" added quickly: “If you want any more plates, I can oblige you.” On her way to her room she stopped to talk to pretty Fraulein Muller. who was in high spirits, having had an excellent report from the 'Doctor. Fraulein Muller always infeisted on talking English with Bernardine, and as her knowledge of it was limited, a certafn amount of imagination was necessary ,to enable her to be understood. ’ “Ah, Miss Holme,” she said, ‘‘l have received an exquisite report from the Doctor." • “You are looking ever so well,’' Bernardine said. “And the. lovemaking with the Spanish gentleman goes on well, too?” “Ach!” was the merry answer. “That is your inventory. lam quite indolent to him!” At that moment the Spanish gentleman came out of, the Kurhaus .flower shop with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Mademoiselle,” he said, handing them to Fraulein Muller and at the same time put his band to his heart. He had not noticed Bernardine at first and when he saw’her he became somewhat confused. She smiled at therrr both and escaped into the flower shop, which was situated in one of the covered passages connecting the mother building with the dependencies. Herr Schmidt, the gardener, was making a wreath. His favorite companion, a saffron cat, was playing with the wire, Schmidt was rather an ill-tempered man. but he liked Bernardine. “I have put these violets aside for you, Fraulein,” he said in his sulky way. “I meant to have sent them to your room, but have been inter-! rupted in my work. ” “You spoil me with your gifts.” she said. “You spoil my cat with v the milk,” he replied, looking up from his work. ; “That is a beautiful wreath you j are- making, Herr-Schmidt,” she; said. “ Who has died? Any one in : the Kurhaus?” “No, Fraulein. But I ought_to] keep my door locked when 1 make’these wreaths. People get fright-1 ened and think they, too, are going: to die. Shall you be frightened, I j wonder?” 1 “No, I believe not,” she answered I as she took possession of her violets j •and stroked the saffron cat.“ But I: am glad no one has died here.” “It is for a young. beautiful lady.” i lie said. “She was at the Kurhaus j two years ago. I liked her. So I; am taking extra pains. She did ndt <-are for the flowers to be wired. So I am trying my best without wire. I But it is difficult.” She left him to his work and went' away thinking. All the time she hid ; now been at Petershok had not sufficed to mali» Ii t indifferent to the I sadness-of her surroundings. In vain ! the Disagreeable Mali's preachings, I in vain her own reasonings with herself. I These , people here who suffered, j and faded, and passed away. who ! were they to her? Why should the faintest shadow steal across her soul on account of them? , There was no reason. And still she felt for them all. she who in the] old days would have thought it waste of time to spare a moment s reflection on anything so unimportant as the sufferings of an individual human being. I And the bridge betwe en her former and her present self was her own illness. What dull-minded sheep w e must all be, how lacking in the very elements of imagination, since wo are only able to learn by personal experience of grief and s uffering, something about the suffer ing and grief of others! Yea,. how the dogs must wonder

BY BEATRICE HARRADEN.

PART I. CHAPTER XV- Continued .

at us: those dogs who know when we are in pain or trouble, and nestle near to us. So Bernardine reached her own door. She heard her name called, and, turning round, saw Mrs. Ref fold. There was a scared look on her beautiful face. “Miss Holme.” she said, “I have been sent so daren’t go to him alone —1 want you—he is worse. I .am — __ Bernardine took her hand, and the two women hurried away in silence. CHAPTER XVI. WHEN THE SOUL KNOWS ITS OWN 1 REMORSE. Bernardine had seen Mr. Reffold the previous day. She had sat by his side and held his hand. He had smiled at her many times, but he only spoke?once. • “Little Brick,” he whispered—for his voice had become nothing but a whisper -“I remember all “you told me. God bless you. But what a long time it does take to die.” But that was yesterday. The lane had come to an ending at last, and Mr. Reffold lay dead. They bore him to the little mortuary ch ape 1. An d Bern ard in e s tay ed with Mrs. Reffold, who seemed afraid to be alone. She clung .to Bernardine’s hand. “No, no,” she said excitedly, “you must not go! I can’t bear to be alone; you must stay with me.” She expressed no sorrow, no regret. She did not eVen speak his namb. She just sat nursing her beautiful face. Once or twice Bernardine tried to slip away. The waiting about was a strain on her, and she felt that she was doing no good. But each time Mrs. Reffold looked up and prevented her. “No, no,” she said, “I can’t bear myself without you. I must have you near me. Why should you leave me?” So Bernardine lingered. She tried to a book which lay on the table. She counted the lines and dots on the wall paper. She thought about the dead man; and about the living woman. She had pitied him; but .when she looked at the stricken face of his wife. Bernardine’s whole heart rose up in pity for her. Remorse would come, although it might not remain long. The soul would see itself face to face for one brief moment; and then forget its own likeness. But for the moment —what a weight of suffering, what a whole century of agony! * » Bernardine grew very tender for Mrs. Reffold; she bent over- the sofa and fondled the beautiful face. “Mrs. Reffold —” she whispered. That wa* she said; but it was enough. Mrs. Reflcld burst into an agony C> Ncr*. ” “Ob. Miss Holme, she sobbed, “and I was not even kind to him! And now it is too late. How can I ever bear myself?” And then it was that the soul remorse. CHAPTER XVII. A RETURN TO OLD j PASTURES. She had left him’ alone and’neglected for whole hours when he was alive. And now when he was dead, and it probably mattered little to him where he was laid, it was some j time before she could make up her j mind to leave him in the lonely little I Petershof cemetery. “It will be so dreary for him ' t here.” she said to the Doctor. “Not so dreary as you made it for i him here,” thought the Doctor. But he did not say that, he just I urged her quietly to have her hus- ‘ band buried in Petershof; and she ; yielded. So they laid him to rest in the dreary ceifietery. Bernardino went to the funeral, ; much the Disagreeable Man’s ! wish. “You are looking like a ghost yourself,” he said to her. “Come out with me into the country instead.” But she shook her head. “Another day,” she said. “And Mrs. Reffold wants me. I can’t leave her alone for she is so misera ble.” The Disagreeable Man shrugged his shoulders and went off by himself. Mrs. Reffold clung very much to • Bernardine those last days before , she left Petershof. She had decided I to go to Wiesbaden, where she had ; relations, and she invited Bernardine I to go with her; it Was more than that, she almost begged her. Bernardine refused. *“I have been from England nearly five months,” she said, “and my money is coming to an end. I must go back and work.” “Then come away with me as my companion,” Mrs. Reffold suggested. “And I will pay you a handsome salary.” Bernardine could not be persuaded. “No," she said, “I cduld not earn money that way; it would not suit me. And, besides, you would cot care to be a long time with me; you would soon tire of me. You think, you would like to have me with] you now. But I know how it would be; you would be sorry and so should I. So let us part as we arc now, you going your way and I going mine. We live in different worlds, Mrs. Reffoid: 1 it jvould be as sense-

less for me to venture into yours as for you to come into mine. Do you think I am unkind?” So they parted. Mrs. Reffold had spokenno word of affection to Bernardine, but at the station, as she bent down to kiss her, sh.e whispered: ■ —7“ “I know you will not think too hardly of me. Still, will you promise me? And if you are ever in trouble, and lean help you, will you write to me?” A nd Bernardine promised. When she got back to her room she found a small packet on her table.: It contained Mr. Reffold’s watch chain. She had so often seen him playing with it. There was a little piece of paper enclosed with it, and Mr. Reffold had written on it two months ago: “Give my watch chain to Little Brick, if she will sacrifice a little of her pride and accept the gift. Bernardine unfastened her watch from the black hair chord and attached it instead to Mr. Reffold’s massive gold chain. As she sat there fiddling with it the idea seized her that she would be all the better for a day’s outing At first she thought she would go alone, and then she decided to ask Robert Allitsen She learned from Marie that he was in the dark room and she hastened down. She knocked several times before there was any answer. _ ___ “I can’t be just now,” he said. “Who is it?” “I can’t shout to you,” she said. The Disagreeable Man opened the door of. the dark room. “My negatives will be spoiled,” he said gruffly. Then seeing Bernardine standing there, he added: “Why, you look as though you wanted some brandy. ” “No,” she said, smiling at his sudden change of manner. “I want fresh air, a sledge drive and a day’s outing. Will you come?” He made no answer and retired once more into the dark room. Then he came out with his camera. “We will go tojthat inn again,” he said cheerily. “I want to take the photographs to those peasants.” In half an hour’s time they were on their way. It was the same drive as before, arid since then Bernardine had seen more of the country and was more accustomed to the wonderful white scenery; but still the “white presences” awed her, and still the deep silence held her. It was the same scene, and yet not the same, either, for the season was now far advanced and the melting of the snows had begun, In the far distance the whiteness seemed as before. but on the slopes near at hand the green was beginning to assert itself and some of the great trees had cast off their heavy burdens and appeared more gloomy in their freedom than in the days* of their snow bondage. The roads wore no longer : quite so even as before; the sledge glided along when it could and bumped along when it must. Still, there was suffleientsnow to make the drive possible and even pleasant. The two companions were quiet. Once only the Disagreeable Man made a remark, and then he said: “I am afraid my negatives will be spoilt.” ZfYou said that before,” Bernardine remarked. “Well, I say it again,” he answered in his grim way. Then came a long pause. “The best part of the winter is ■ over,” he said. “We may have some !• more snow, but. it is more probable that we shall not. It is not en joyable here during the melting time.” “Well, in any case, I should not be here much longer,” she said, “and for a simple reason, too. I have nearly come to the end of tny money. I shall have to go back and set to work again. I should not have been able to give myself this chance, but that my uncle spared me some iff this money, to which I added my , savings.” ______ “Are you badly off?” the Disagreeable Man asked rather timidly. “I have very few wants,” she answered brightly. “And wealth is only a relative word, after all.” “It is- a pity that you should go back to work so soon," he said half to himself. “You are only just better; and it is easy to Ibse what one has gained.” “Oh, I am not likely to lose,” she answered, “but. I shall be careful this time. I shall do a little teaching, and perhaps a little writing: not much —you need not be vexed. I shall not try to pick up the other threads yet. I shall not be political, nor educational, nor anything else great.” “If you call politics or education great,” he said. “And heaven defend me from political or highly educated wombn!” —------ u —~~ “You say that because you know nothing about them,” she answered sharply. “Thank you,” he replied. “I have met them quite often enough.” “That was probably some time ago,” she said rather heartlessly. “If you have lived here so long, how can you judge of the changes which go op in the world outside Petershof?” “If I have lived here so long,” he repeated, in the bitterness of his heart. Bernardine did not notice;-she was on a subject which always excited her. “I don’t know so much about the political women.” she said, “but I do know about the higher education people. The writers who rail against the women of this date are really describing the women of ten years ago. Why, the Girton girl of ten years ago seems a different creation from the Girton girl of today. Yet the latter has been the steady outgrowth of the former."

“And the difference between them?” asked the Disagreeable Man. “The Girton girl of ten year! ago,” said Bernardine, “was a sombre, spectacled person, carelessly anddovvdilv dressed, who gave herself up. to wisdom and despised all who did not know the Agamemnon bv heart. She was probably not lovable; but she deserves to be honored and thankfully She fought for woman’s right to be well educated, and I cannot bear to hear her slighted. The fresh-hearted young girl who nowadays plays a good game of lawn tennis, and takes a high place in the Classical or Mathematical Tripos, and is book learned, without being bookish, \ - : '"k ' - “What other ‘ virtues are ’ left, I wonder?” he interrupted. f “And who does not scorn to take a pride in her looks because she happens to take a pride in her books,” continued Bernardine, looking at the Disagreeable Man, and not seeming to see him; “she is what she is by reason of that grave and loveless woman who won the battle for her.” Here she paused. “But how ridiculous for me to talk to you in this way!” she said. “Ii! is not likely that you would be interested in the widening out of woman's lives.” ‘‘And pray why not?” he asked. “Have I been on the shelf too long?” “I think you would not have been interested even if you had never been on the shelf,” she said frankly. “You are not the type of man to be generous to woman.” (TO BE CONTINUED.'I

A LOSI PEOPLE.

The eheft of a host Race Discovered on ' ’ Coast of Brittany. A lad}’ whose home is in the south of France writes-of a visit she made recently to an island on the coast of Brittany. Those of you who have read the story of King Arthur and his knights will remember that they started out over the §ea in pursuit of the dragon . In this —the Morbihan sea —is a little island which can be reached from the mainland only when the water is smooth. The sole inhabitant is a Breton shepherd, who lives in a little hut and spends his time in caring for his sheep. The party landed and were met by the kindfaced tld man, who led them over the grassy slope where his flock was feeding, and showed them the way around a hill, on the east side of which they found the entrance to a tunnel. This extended some distance, and its floor, sides and roof were made of immense flat pieces of stone, covered with hieroglyphs and figures, “looking somewhat like wreaths and again like coiled serpents,” At the end of this tunnel was a hall, also floored, roofed and walled with the same curious stones, and in the center was an altar and a stone upon which, it is thought, that human sacrifices have been offered. The strangest part of all is that no stones or rocks like those used in this tunnel can be found on the island, and at no place nearer than 100 miles inland. Who brought them? How did they come? There is no record left —at least none has been found,to tell who these people were, or anything about them. They must have lived many centuries ago,but have vanished entire ly, vet their work is as perfect apparently as when first built. It is thought that they may have been Druids, who came here when they left Great Britain; others again think that they were worshippers of the serpent god call Hoa. But it is conjecture. All we know is that the stones are here, strangely carved, skillfully put together, but of their builders there is no trace.

The Hnsband’s Strata gem.

Novoe Vrcmya. An inhabitant of Vqto, in Finland, named Sellquist, who for a long time past has been living on bad terms with his wife, had lately a narrow escape from being poisoped by her. She called at a chemist’s and asked for some rat poison. As these creatures are very rarely seen in that neighborhood, the chemist had his suspicions aroused and, gave the woman a perfectly' harmless drug. On second thoughts he decided to mention the matter to the Ifiisband, and requested him to say nothing about it to his wife. In the evening, as she was preparing the porridge, the man kept a watchful eye on her movements.and noticed that she scattered something out of a paper into that saucepan. When the porridge was]ready hesatdown to the tableand began to. eat. After awhile he got up in great excitement, paced up and down the room, and at last fell fainting on the floor. Th ; s was what the woman expected. Sne now pulled down a rope through a hole in the ceiling with a noose, which she placed round her husband’s neck, where upon she ran upstairs into the garret in order to pull up the rope and hang her husband in that fashion. Meantime the husband got up and tied a few chairs to the rope. e The wife did not return to the room, as she dreaded the sight, but went out in the village to raise an alarm, ing that her husband had hangea himself In her absence. When she came back with a host of neighbors, I and crocodile tears in her eyes.there was her husband sitting at the table, 1 laughing till his sides ached. The I chairs were still dangling on the rope.

THE FAIR SEX.

HEADGEAR. Those wide Leghorn hats which admit of a great deal of bending and puckering are in the dead among summer headgear. They correspond somewhat to' the soft felt hats which has such a run last winter. I There are not many faces that will bear the severe outline of a stiff round brim. Of course everybody wears a sailor, because other people do. and if the crown is not too lafge or too high it will do very well for knockabout wear. But girls who really want to look pretty would do well to select a hat with an undulating briiri, and something in the shape

of ribbon or lace to soften the effect near the face. Those who have discovered this secret are wont to poke a little bow of ribbon, or tuft of lace, or a bunch of flowers under of a large hat. Many carry this idea to an extreme, and allow the lace, which perhaps covers the top of a hat, to fall over the. brim in a sort of flounce like that in the picture. Leghorns are usually puckered up in two or three places at the back, and trimmed with knots of velvet and tufts of lace and feathers. One very pretty girl, whom I saw in church recently, wore a heliotrope nun's veiling gown, and a Leghorn hat trimmed with heliotrope velvet and feathers to match her gown. The hat shown above is a white rice straw with a fall of white lace around the brim. The only other trimming is a bow of changeable turquoise' blue and rose ribbon. The gown is turquoise foulard brocaded with large sprays, and blue iriousseline de soie. The skirt, of foulard, is raised at one side and shirred. The bodice is shirred back and front to resemble a corselet, and at the waist is a satin belt which fastens with a chou at the back. The sleeves are shirred_ to correspond to the waist. PRETTY GQWN*S. ’ It seems rather heartless, in these troublous times, to be found giving so much attention to follies and fripperies of fashion. But, selfish as it may seem, the best social system yet tried is that

RENOVATED.

in which each man pursues his own course and looks after his own gains, without infringing upon the rights of his neighbor. So, perhaps, even a fashion writer may contribute her share_toward an adjustment of the difficulties which surround us all, by simply continuing to chronicle the news of the fashionable world,and forgetting her neighbors’ woes —for the time being. And you frail women, who are powerless to helpYbur suffering fel-low-men, might just as well cast off the burden and go quietly away to the country, where you may rest your nerves and make ready to be a comfort and not a trial to your.families. Wear your pretty clothes and your brightest smile, and take the wrinkles out of your face. There is nothing like a smile to keep the face young—not one of those stereotyped set smiles that look as though they would break— but a nice, limber, pliable smile. There is a good deal that might be said on the subject of smiles, but I’ll have to say it somewhere else, for I want to tell you about a prettyodress which can be made out of an old one so easily. A princess dress, or a plain,tightfitting basque and skirt will <do to start with. Then you must get some white mull and guipure lace. The guipure will make large sleeve puffs and the figaro drapery which you see in the picture. The drapery is knotted in front, and here the mull begins. It hangs in long ends down the front, and is trimmed at the bottom with wide lace. This, with a light straw bonnet trimmed with feathers, and a white lace trimmed parasol, makes a cos-

tume pretty enough to take the wrinkles out of any feminine* brow. 1 English papers say that Mrs. Humphry Ward has made SBO,OOO from “David Grieve,”_sßo.ooo from “Marcella,,’ and $40,000 from “Robert Elsmere.” . An English woman, Mrs. Fawcett,' has taken a novel way to prove her theory that higher education of women does not unfit them for the better discharge of their duties of motherhood, Mrs. Fawcett has recently presented to Newham college, England. a large collection of photographs of babies whose mothers have received a university education. The healthy, vigorous appearance of the babies, Mrs: Fawcett says, testifies to the truth of her theory. Prince Francis Joseph,' of Battenberg is said to be paying marked attention to Miss Anna Gould, daughter of Jay Gould, who is in Paris.! Perhaps it would be more correct td say the Battenberg princeling isl looking with loving eyes upon the! Gould millions. J Miss Agnes Irwin, who has justl been appointed dean of Radcliff college, is a great-grand-daughter of] Benjamin Franklin and the daughter of a former United States minister to! Denmark. Miss Irwin is not a col-! lege graduate, but has gained her! great erudition from home study. : Fashionable hostesses who wish toj do things a little out of the ordinary] occasionally serve potatoes in theii; jackets, on antique-looking wooden! plates beautifully carved, which arej sac similes of the wooden trenchers of feudal times.

DOTTED ORGANDIE AND LACE:

It is little known that the Queen of England has not only been an archer of considerable dexterity inlier time, but holds office as dean of one of the oldest guilds of bowmen in Europe. The Woman’s Missionary Society of the Methodist church, Sauth, has 2,058 auxiliaries, with 39,141 members, and 1,185 young people’s and juvenile societies, with 28,996 members, a total of 68,297. The Countess Alesio, of Turin, Italy, who has celebrated her onehundredth birthday, accompanied her husband through all the hardships of the Moscow campaign, while she was a bride of eighteen. She is in full possession of all her faculties, and spends several hours a day in piano practice. Joan Ingelow spends her winters in the south of France, where she has a cottage overlooking the Mediterranean. Her London house is in Kensington, and stands with its crown of ivy in the midst of a spa- . cious garden, hidden among trees.

Society Note.

Texas Siftings. Mr. S. S. Coxe, of Austin, who is not very accurate in his speech, ba.‘ a very precocious boy named Sammy, whose manners and ways are verj objectionable,so much so that thi father becam every much excited « few days ago, and, with out thinking; what he said, rebuked Si’jnmy in thi following words: “You miserable little scamp! 1 should think you would know by ob Serving my conduct what things an not proper and decent.” And then he wondered why everybody in the room laughed.