Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 November 1901 — Page 2

NORA'S TEST

BY MARY CECIL HAY

CHAPTER I. They all saw it coming! The drawing room windows overlooked the bog—which, from the village on this western side, stretched in a gradual ascent until it kissed the sky far off —so they all saw it coming! And then the boys laughed and disappeared; and the girls laughed, too, but dared not disappear, however much they wished it. And the vicar made a little clicking sound with his tongue, while his wife glanced at her guests, in mute "appeal for their special indulgence in this trying moment. But only one of the guests met the glance; and Mrs. Pennington saw with horror that her eyes soon went back to fix themselves on the hideous conveyance which was making its way with fatal and premeditated directness straight to the vicarage gate. As for the other guests—well, it did not signify so much about him. Mortifying as it was that Miss Foster should encounter plebeian acquaintances on this first visit of hers to the vicarage where her brother had been educated, it could not signify much to the strange gentleman, who had merely offered her his escort because he had been himself coming to Ireland just at the same time. - s Mrs. Pennington plucked up all her spirit and moved a trifle nearer to her lady guest. By that time the object at which they all gazed was close to the vicarage gate. The gaunt and aged quadruped dropped his pinched head, and seized apathetically on the brief rest allowed by the opening of the gate; and immediately afterward the old car rattled along the gravel. The boys had let the gate slam, and were running with the car; while the young girl who was its solitary occupant was too much engrossed by the management of her steed to see the faces at the window as she passed. ‘■Jump up on the other side the car, Nat, and balance it; then you’ll see how smoothly we shall go round to the stables. You may well laugh, Tom. Isn’t Borak fresh to-day V’ And then again the girl's laugh was the merriest of the three. “Of course, I cannot be mistaken,” murmured Miss Foster, turning graciously to the vicar; “but I should hardly recognize your sons who were sitting here so decorously a few minutes ago.’’ The vicar breathed a modest reminder of the fact that “boys will be boys;” but his own chagrin was plainly readable. “And may I inquire,” added Miss Foster, in the most soothing of tones, ’what name you have for that extraordinary vehiele?” “It purports to be a jaunting car,” said the vicar, “but it certainly is a curious specimen. Old Col. St. George had a crippled carpenter to come into his own yard and make it odd moments. I dare say you noticed what a bare machine Jt is—guiltless of padding, cushions, or even paint; and it needs only that bony .animal to make it the most disgraceful turnout in county Tyrone.” “Miss Pennington, let us go into the garden; shall we?” It was the other guest who made this proposal to the vicar's eldest daughter, while he held open the window that she might pass through. “I’m so glad,” said Celia, in a little flutter of delight. "It seemed so odd not rushing out to meet Nora.” Her companion was walking idly, as if he had no aim this April afternoon, except to let the hours pass him by. “Was that Nora in the shanderydan?” “That isn’t a shanderydan, Mr. i’oynz. How plain it is to see you are not Irish! Isn’t it a frightful old car? And yet Nora is as pleased as possible when her grandfather lets her drive it.” "Then her parents do not forbid ” “Nora has no parents,” interrupted Celia. “And her grandfather—that's old Col. St. George—doesn’t care anything about what she does. Besides, you see, everybody knows her; and I really think that there isn’t a man or boy in the neighborhood who wouldn’t run anywhere at Nora’s bidding. And yet she is so terribly wild.” Mark Poynz looked down into the girl’s gentle eyes. “And untamable?” be asked, in his cool, indifferent way; but he did not even hear Celia's answer.

"This is the garden.” said Celia, with -a sweeping glance across the sooty cnion beds which lay beyond the flower borders. “You will like to walk round, I suppose V” As Mark not only did not say "Mo, - ’ but actually stooped now and then to pluck a wistful little anemone, or a precocious Canterbury bell, Miss Pennington led him on all round the straggling garden. They left it at last, by a wellworn gap in the hedge, and catne out near the little coach house, at ttie open door of which Nora stood mending a heavy old whip with some twine. The boys had heard no sound of footsteps on the grass, and Nat Pennington was .generously improving the occasion by bestowing an amateur rub-down upon Nora's angular steed—discoursed cheerily •over his work. "I say, Nora, aren't you dying to hear more of this Englishman V” “l’es—dying fast. Pull that knot tight, Tom. Oh, Nat, I saw such a splendid trout round by flic moat!” “Hoorah! What a jolly girl you aro for scenting game!” 11" was stopped by the brisk little "Ilush!’’ of Celia as she daried forward and greeted her friend. “1 never thought to find you here, Korn; haven't you been into the house?” “Yes; I had a message for Mr. Pennington from grandpa. But I’m going home now.” ' “Oh, no!” Cried Celia, puzzling just for one instant over a new tone in Nora’s voice. “Come in again.” “No. Who is that lady in the drawing room ?” “Didn’t they introduce you?” “No. They—forgot, perhaps. Just look at me," Nora on Id, her low, rich voice growing hnrried ns she glanced down at her faded winter dress. “Thiuk how, if you were not used to me, you would—•tare.” Celia looked, as she was bidden, laughing the while; but someone else had come forward then, and saw what she •aw—a girl with a shabby dress, but a lithe, round figure, which hud developed to the perfect beauty of womanhood; a

From Darkness To Light

girl in an old and untrimmed hat. from which the hair hung In one rich and heavy plait behind, while on the temples it peeped in waves which caught the light, and changed and brightened with it; a girl whose features were all too short for perfect statuesque beauty, but whose teeth were perfect, and whose eyes were beautiful beyond words. “You 100k —just Nora,” decided Miss Pennington, pleasantly. “Nora, this gentleman is a friend of —Mr. Foster’s.” Perhaps because it was difficult to courtesy as she stood against the open door, and perhaps because those last words of Celia’s speech had some pleasant meaning in her ears, Nora moved the clumsy whip into her left hand, and frankly offered her right to the English stranger. And then she gravely tied her last knot, while she spoke to him. “Is Mr. Foster —it seems so strange to call him mister; but, of course, as Celia did, I must —is he really a friend of yours? I'm so glad. Is he coming here again soon? And how is he? I suppose you’ve heard him preach. Does he say anything wise in his sermons? He never did when he was here. It was such a comfort to see that, however hard Will studied, he never knew anything.” “Why a comfort?” “Because I was longing and longing to be taught, and —and —it does persons good to see that school makes no difference.” “I see.” “I don’t,” smiled Celia. “I’ve been at school for years, and I should have been very idle if I didn’t know a good deal now." “There is plenty of time, Miss St. George,” said Mark Poynz, looking into Nora’s face, with a quizzical, questioning gaze, “even if you have wasted all your seventeen years.” “How do you know Nora’s age?” demanded Celia, with the look of surprise. “Did you guess?” “Hardly,” he replied, with great coolness. “I have heard it mentioned.” “How funny,” said Nora, lightly. But she looked with a little more curiosity now at the tall stranger, whose face was lined and rugged, and yet so pleasant to look upon, and whose thick, dark hair had countless silver streaks among it. He had walked into the building now, and appeared to be tracing Borah's anatomy with interest; so Celia turned with a whisper aside to Nora. “You’ll come in again, of course, dear? I’ll introduce you to* Miss Foster. Doesn’t she look stylish?”

“She looks, I suppose,” said Nora, thoughtfully, “as girls of our age ought to look. Why do you ask me to stay, Celia? Shall we—shall we,” she repeated, with a ring of unconscious hope iu her voice, “have tea in the school room if I stay—just we and the boys together, as usual—and idle about and enjoy oqrselves? 1 thought of it all the morning, Celia, and indeed all yesterday, so. 1 knew I was coming with the messaged “No,” returned Miss Pennington. “I am to dine with the elder ones this evening. Otherwise, dear Nora ” "Good-by,” said the girl, with a jruspicious catching in her breath, as sh< turned and put the bit between Borak e two remaining teeth.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mora. ' cried Tom Pennington. “I’ll take tfee car out to the bog for you, while Nat l#oks out that none of them see, and then. you follow." "D’you think,” cried Nora, her cheek# aflame and her eyes flashing, "that I’d grow ashamed of Borak all it a minute, because you are ashamed o t me? You know quite well that I am pr-jud of him—you always knew it. Y'ou ku*>w how happy I was when I came to-day. You told me how proud I looked, anc- we all laughed. I—l think," she said with the sudden cadence of sadness i-j her tone, "it is time we were at home—Borak and me." “And me,” added M* l’oynz, with a lofty disregard of Syntax. "I have to cross the bog, Miss St. iJeorge. Will you give me a seat in your car?” It did not need his patent look into the girl’s face to see tin change which his proposal brought there. The flash of scorn which Tom Pennington’s idea had evolved melted as by a breath, and a new, strange wonder crept into her lustrous eyes. Though she did not know who this stranger might be, instinct alone was sufficient convince her that no one at the vicfvnge would question his taste. And b> had asked to drive on the car, which Tom would have surreptitiously led out of sight! He had asked to drive with the shabby girl upon whom Miss Foster had gazed with contempt! All the warm and frank simplicity’ of Nora’s nature resumed its sway, and her assent to his proposal was like the glad and prompt assent of a child. How comfortable they would be, one on each side of the car! With an’ innate feeling of delicacy, for which she couid not have accounted if she hsd tried, Nora withheld even a glane*. at the drawing room windows, and even 3 wave of the hand to Celia, while anyone standing at those window's could see l'4*r. A gentleman was driving her, a grander gentleman than she had ever seen before, .vtnl she was sitting in luxurious idlcuogs; but' still she never wished Uiut Miss Foster could see and envy hes,.

‘ Celia saLl you were a friend of Mr. Foster’s,” aae said. ‘Yes. And the Reverend Willoughby Poster, Carafe of Heaton, is in no way different from young Will Foster, the pupil of Yir. Pennington, and the friend of Miss St. George.” The very merriest sound possible, in its gladness and its uneonstrnint, was Nora’s iaugh; biff it was as swift as it was pretty. “It sounded odd for you to speak so of Will, yet it is the truth exactly. He wag a friend to me indeed, though he wouldn't know me as Miss- St. George; and somehow, when we all got found out and scolded, Will always tried to get scolded for himself and me; do you understand?” “Not yet,” replied Murk, meditatively. “It Is a difficult situation to tnke in. You must have been quite a little girl even when Foster left here.” “I was nearly fourteen,” returned Mora, conscientiously; “but be.\g six year*

younger than Wi—Mr. Foster, didn’t tnlte any blame from me, because whatever wo did wrong was my fault. He would have been quite good by himself. Why do you laugh?” she asked, with apprehension. “Were you thinking I ought never to have disturbed him at his work in those days?” “I was thinking how little age has to do with the question at all,” returned Mark, composedly. “Some natures take the lead even while in leading-strings themselves.” “Of course I should not do it now.” “Of course not.” “Mr. Poynz,” said Nora, turning to him with her brows puckered, and an unconscious wistfulness in her eyes, “why do you seem to mean more than you say ? Do you really believe that I could help to distract Mr. Foster from his work now?” “Indeed I don’t. On the contrary, I believe you could do it without a shade of help.” “Oh, this is too bad!” cried Nora, her lips quivering as if tears were near, yet her eyes bright with laughter. “You forget that I am grown up now.” “No. That is the one little fact which I remember better than you do. Do you observe that Borak has made up his mind to leave the bog, and take us to the high road?” “He always remembers everything!” she exclaimed in pride. “He knows I should like to inquire after Micky Corr. But wouldn’t you like him to trot, Mr. Poynz? You let him walk so very, very slowly.” “I like this pace,” returned Mark, placidly. “We can better distinguish the beauties of. the bog than if we flew through at Borak’s usual speed.” “There are no bogs in England, are there?” questioned Nora, with .a lively sense of superiority here. But before Mark had answered, the prompt question was followed by a sigh; so ?ie did not answer at all. He only looked straight along the road, and conveyed to Borak an unmistakable hint that h« might loiter as he chose. “I suppose, Mr. Poynz, that all English ladies are like Miss Foster?” Exactly—Mark allowed, with a sparkle in his eyes which Nora did not see—they were all exactly alike, and Miss Foster had beep sent over as a specimen. “Will never told me,” explained N'ora, apologetically, “else I might have been prepared. I could see that Miss Foster was very, very clever, and she could see in a minute that I wasn’t.” “Yes, she would see that in a moment,” assented Mark. “The first thing an English girl learns is to see that sort of thing in another girl.” “They always speak a good many languages, don’t they?” inquired Nora, deep in thought. “They do, indeed.” “And they learn music?” “Rarely. But they perform upon the piano, and vocally.” “You mean they sing?” “No, I did not. Then they dance ” “Oh, I can dance too!” interposed Nora, with a sudden ring of hope iu her tones. “Why do you smile?” she added, heavily. “Would it be a different kind of dancing?” “We shall see.” “No, we shall never see,” she said, with a grave shake of her head; “because 1 shall never go to England.” “That is absurd,” observed Mark, with a certain tone of severity in his voice. “You are an English girl; why should you live here all your life?” “Grandpa says we shall,” she answered, gently. “He’s very poor, and cannot go away.” “In-deed!” said Mark. And then he looked around into Nora’s face just as if he were going to laugh quite heartily. “Sometimes,” sighed Nora, “I think how delightful it would be to be rich. I should do such wonderful and beautiful things if I were rich. One can’t help just dreaming about things, however utterly impossible they are.” “Utterly impossible,” acquiesced Mark, in his leisurely way, “unless your grandfather has hundreds of jars full of sovereigns hidden away, like an Irish gentleman of whom I onee_read.” “But,” said Nora, musingly, “there’s no place to hide them at Traveere—that’s where we live, Mr. Poynz, grandpa and ms.” “And no one else?” “No one except old Kitty. No one else ever comes there. I go’ to the vicarage whenever I can; but Celia never comes to Traveere, and grandpa won’t have the boys. He never would have Will—Mr. Foster, I mean. No,” she added, as if to herself, in her soft, musical tones, “no one comes but Dr. Armstrong.” “May I ask who is Dr. Armstrong?” “He is the only person that comes to Traveere. He is a relation of grandpa’s, though I don’t exactly Know how—the only relation grandpa has, except me.” “Then he is a relation of yours?” “I think not, Mr. Poynz. I have no relation in the world except grandpa. My father and mother both died when I was a baby. They died in England; and 1 was born in England—l think.” “Why do you only think?” “Because grandpa won't speak of them. I suppose it would make him sad. And no one else, of course, knows anything about me.”

CHAPTER 11. Mr. Poynz was very silent after that, and in the pahse Nora’s eyes lost their wide, thoughtful gaze, and went across to him once more. How curious it was for him, a stranger, to be driving her along the old familiar road—a strunger, and, so different from any gentleman she had ever seen before! Should she be able to tell her grandfather what he was like? “He looks,” thought Nora, “like a soldier looks, I should think, when he comes from the battlefield, and tukes 1 off his helmet.” "Well,” inquired Mark, coolly, “are you objecting to the length of my nose?” “I—l was only,” faltered Nora, with a vivid blush, “thinking of how 1 should describe you to grandpa." “You cannot do it; you must take me on to Travecre to show me.” “Please, Mr. Poynz,” begged Nora, in a very evident panic, “don't come to Traveere. It is—it is—it won't be any pleasure.” "Is this the cottage at which Borak intends to stop?” inquired Mr. Poynz, ns they came in sight of a cabin on the roadside. And Nora, grateful for not having been forced to explain her last entreaty, nodded her affirmative, aud then springing lightly to the ground, entered the cabin. Fire minutes afterward Nora timidly

touched' Mr. Poynz upon, the arm.- aad reminded him that she was ready to go. He turned with his head raised—and while he held the door for her, he looked back and bid good-by to two young men in the place. “Let me see,” observed Mark, quietly, “you have no serpents here, have you?” “No, not one. We couldn’t have, even if St. Patrick allowed them, because, yon know, it kills a serpent to look at an emerald; and, as onr land is all emerald, why, they would all die directly, even if they came.” While she so merrily put this fancy into words for the first time she looked back at the little cabin they were so slowly leaving behind them. <To be continued.!

THE SACRED SEVEN.

Mentions that Are Made of the Number in the Old Testament. The law demanded that a Hebrew slave should serve six years, and in the seventh he should go out free for nothing (Exodus 21: 2). In the temple service the priest had to dip his finger in the blood of the sacrificed bullock and sprinkle of the blood seven times before the Lord, before the veil of the sanctuary (Leviticus 4: 6). A woman after the birth of a male child'was unclean seven days (Leviticus 12: 2). The Lord threatens to punish the people for disobedience with all kinds of terrors, and, if they will not yet for all this hearken, then he will punish them seven times more for their sins (Leviticus 26: 18). Balaam requested Balak to build seven altars and prepare seven oxen and seven rams (Numbers 23:1). In Deuteronomy we read among the curses on disobedience that the children of Israel will flee before their enemies on seven ways (Deuteronomy 28: 25), but if they hearken unto the Lord their enemies shall flee on seven ways (Deuteronomy 28: 7). The walls of Jericho fell on the seventh day before the blast of seven rams’ horns, blown by seven priests, after having compassed the city seven times (Joshua 6:4). Bathsheba’s child died on the seventh day (11. Samuel 12: 18). Because David had numbered the people, the children of Israel were punished, and a choice was given him between seven years of famine, three months of flight, and three days of pestilence (11. Samuel 24: 13). Naaman became clean of his leprosy by bathing seven times In Jordan (H. Kings 5: 10-14). Job’s friends mourned with him seven days and seven nights (Job 2: 13). Seven days is the time of mourning for a dead person (Sirach 22: 12). The Psalmist sings that seven times a day he does praise God (119: 164). In Proverbs 24: 16, we read that a just man falleth seven times and riseth up again.—Open Court.

A Real Utopia.

The town of Dunwich, in Australia, seems to be a real Utopia. With a population of one thousand souls, there have been in four years just two births and two deaths. There are no streets, no omnibuses, trolley cars or railway trains, no soldiers, no police, no shops. There is a beautiful theater to which everybody is admitted free. Clothes are furnished free of charge and so are food and lodging. Very few do any work, and there are no hotels. Very little money Is required, and medical attendance Is free. A lock-up Is there, but it is never used. If one wants to send a letter and is short of money the missive is stamped free. A free library and hospital form part of the make-up of this peculiar municipality.

Lightning Wood-Carving Machine.

Complete plans for a remarkable machine for turning out Intricate carved moldings are shown in a recent issue of London Engineering. This machine is capable of working on moldings up to eight inches wide and three inches thick. The machine is claimed to be very rapid In action, a bold egg and tongue molding two and one-half inches thick being finished at the rate of twenty feet a minute, while with smaller molding double this phenomenal rate of production is attained. Any description of wood can be worked. This machine, it is claimed, will do the work “of more than 2,000 hand carvers, and the moldings are so perfectly finished by the machine that they do not require to be touched by hand.”

Famous East Indian Dwarf.

Nineteen years old and nineteen inches high. Such are the age and stature of Fatna, the famous East Indian dwarf. His weight is thirteen pounds. Smaun is Ills little sister. She is one year younger and one pound lighter. These creatures are veritable pigmies and quite different from some dwarfs, in that their members are In proportion to their size. Fatna’s head is about the size of an orange and his arms are the size of broomsticks. In fact, he is a man in miniature, with none of the false proportions of infants.

Curious.

The Indians of Guiana have a curious system of numeration. They count by the hand and its four fingers. Thus, when they reach five, instead of saying so, they call it a “hand.” Six is fore a “hand and first finger;” seven, a “hand and second finger.”*Ten is “two hands;” but twenty, Instead of being “four hands,” Is a “man.” • Forty is “two men," and thus they go on by twenties. Forty-six is expressed, “two men, a hand, and first finger.”

The American Venice.

Astoria, Oregon.—“ The Venice of America,” the city limits extending to the edge of the south channel of the Columbia River, almost the entire business part of the city being built on piles over the water. Lucifer was the star of the morning, but the wise theatrical star sticks to afternoon and evening performances. Never enter into a partnership with a man whose wife Is president of a woman-suffrage club. _ .

A Bookseller's Lowly Beginning.

George Robertson, the head of the book-selling trade in Australia, left personal estate valued at £117,000. According to local tradition, Mr. Robertson began business with a barrowful of books on the Queen’s Wharf, Melbourne, in 1852. The above figures represent the head establishment In Melbourne alone; the value of the branches In London, Sydney, Adelaide and Brisbane has yet to be estimated. The eldest son of the deceased, Charles Melbourne Robertson, is now the managing director of the business—Manchester Guardian.

A Grievance.

“It’s very depressing,” said the trust magnate, “to see how we are misunderstood.” “Are you surprised that you provoke criticism ?” “Not surprised, but grieved. It Is too much to expect human nature to be satisfied. We used to be blamed for our attacks on each other when we were rivals in trade. And now that we have settled down to divide profits in peace and friendship we don’t get a word of praise for It!”—Washington Star.

Easy Come, Easy Go.

The man who creeps along bent over, with his spinal column feeling in a condition to snap like a pipestem at any minute, would readily give a great deal to get out of his dilemma, and yet this Is only the commonest form by which lumbago seizes on and twists out of shape the muscles of the back. This is commonly known as backache, a crick In the back, but by whatever name it may be known, and however bad it may be, ten minutes vigorous rubbing with St. Jacobs Oil on the afllicted part will drive out tlje trouble and completely restore. It is a thing so easily caught it may be wondered at why there is not more of it, but because it is so easily cured by St. Jacobs Oil may be the very reason that we hear so little of it. Barbers use razors and some use 'em barbarously. Mrs. Austin’s famous cereals have tile largest sale of any similar goods Try them and you will understand why.

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