Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 20, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 16 November 1872 — Page 6

SLAM THE DOOR QKNTLY.

81am the door gently! Moat people can hear, By listening intently,

When tliunder rolls near,

sift#

And some folk* if earthquakes Should travel their wav, Would be stirred by the great shakes

"S§*s

To ask, "What's to pay 1" And gratuitous thunder, i, From closing doors crashed, Inspires one lo wonder hat's suddenly smashed.

An earthquake's commotion For moving things serves But it's hardly the lotion

For binges and nerves.

Let us, consequently (Since mercy'« a treasure,) JUKI hlam the door gently,

When we have the leisure.

To The Death.

BV EDMUND YATES.

In the summer of 1801 the heat throughout Europe was iutense perhaps lu no place more intense than at Biden-Baden. The little English colony temporarily located there suffered tremendously. Mr. JuHtice Minos, i/jbo, with Mr. and Mrs. Sergeant Blewbaggo, .Mr. Tocsin, Q. €., Mr. Replevin, the rising junior, and a few other kindred l' gal spirits, used to get up such splendid whist parlies at the Bauischer Hop, declared he never felt any thing like it, even at the Central Criminal Court. If you ever have been in Seville or Madrid during the month of July, you will allow that the denizens of either of those places may be regard-

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od as judges of caloric and here at Biden wore the Senora Sebastiana Gonfalon and her brother Diego, who both declared that throughout Spain they had never found it so hot as in that little gambling inferno on the margin •of the Black Forest.

Sycli woman, Sebastiana Gonfalon! About four and twenty, and of the real mingre azid, the old Spanish type. Very slight penciled ej'ebrows, a short and wlightly retroussee nose, large, protruding lips, a little rounded chin, and blue-black hair banded tight round her head, and fastened into a largo bow behind. About the ordinary woman's height, strong limbed, with small hands and feet, wonderlully lithe and .ttuppie in her movements, and with a pocuii tr swimming walk, which set all the \vom'-n in Baden practising in their bedrooms without the faintest approach to the original. A face very calm and statuesque in repose,very teriible when lit up with anger, horribly dangerous when melting with love.

It had beon hotter than ever during the day the moon wusstreaming on to the broad graveled walk in front of the convitrsiilion-haus. and the uid, stationed in their little Oil-lamp illuminated kiosk, were rattling away at Stratihs' waltzes and Labizky's galops Htid tho gambiors were thronging the roulette and trente-et-quaranto tables and of the non-gamblers, all such HS hud ladies with them were proino iiHdlnu iiid listening to the music, Hrhileothers were seated around the little wooden tables, drinking and smoking. At ono of these tables lour mon Were Hilling, who morit particular notice. The lHtlo paper lantern, holding the cigar-lighting candle, Hares on the broad, healthy bronzed face (where, through the thick-curling light beard, the face can be seen) ot Arthur Acton, formerly of tho Light Brigade, now Mwell, landed proprietor, English tjentleman. After tho Crimoun campaignArl luir cut soldiering and sold out lie is a type of his class, as you perceive in ids broad chest, well-knit figure, weli-siiapod white hund, with the massive signet ring on his little linger, and the broad gold band on the linger noxi lo that in his open throat, his long white wristbands, kis oveuing droas, so dagnge. yet so well-lilting hi* perfect boots, tho -easy, careless, unstudied grace of his attitude a big mu, v\ Uh the heart of a lion und the simplicity of a child, who had looked do ith In the lace a score of times, who had ridden Into tho lialaklava charges HS calmly as into Rotten Row, and who would as soon have thought of defaming his dead mother as of uttering a boasi. or lie. Not a scholar, not a purist— he had lived too much iu camps Htid barrack-rooms for that but a keen, clear-headed man of the world, as jyou may see in his broad, open brow, lover which the short light hair curls %NO duply, it) his bright blue-eyes, his tr u.K lace, his great, cherry,* honest l&ugh. Next to him, Jack Harris, government cl rk, a wiry, dapper little :nii, i,~"' up with scrupulous neatness.

Junk's hair-dresser tells htm "his parting is thinning," which mc»ns that Jnck Is getting bald but he makes up •lor thai by an enormous pair ot wiry whiskers,* which stick out like hairbrushes on either side of his little face.

A it at scandal-monger is Jnck. with 4tOiueibing lo say about eyeryboav an insane llttlechatter-box, whom nobody i*uUl think of making his enemy or of euKlv.tilng for his friend. On tho other of the table, Eugene Blake, a Wever, hot-headed, quick •tempered lri«hnmn, army surgeon in regiment of Austrian I'hlans, on leave now, and Mlrylng with Arthur, whoso people hat*, always been studiously kiud to Shim. Next lo him, and concluding the /piity. Sir Pierce Coverdale, the best •w nisi player at the Traveler's Clab, an *ld diplomatist who had studied life at Jiiiif lt)*» courts iu Europe, and oue of the knowlugest hands In the world. ^Listen t» their conversation.

It's a regular fetch, by Jovo! Never saw a elMmr! No good deuyiug it, Arthur. t«v boy you've brought down the intuitu si a long shot, and rou'ro booked!" This from Eugene Ulake, with a merry twinkle in his eye, aud a great slap on tho table to euforce his words,

Tremendous go!" Mid little Jack |I«rris, "tremendoca go! splendid ere mire! black eyes, raven hair, and nil thai sort o' thing and as for figure" —And, in default ot Inding a proper expletive, Ml Jack k.seJ lb* tips of his oviu ti tgers, and \v.ived them iu the air.

IVwvtld pleasant thing said old iHir Coverdale. snio^hiug his usker* "doosnd ple -nt thing

«r

for vuig man, though it i- its adv- loo*id difficult to shako off. tired of it—sho don't, Thftn ic «»red and she's savage then y*. ako up with somebody eie*\ and ahe *up with knife or a or I. ihle thing, and clicks it into 7 ko ie, Acton those tioutheru -u-jn arc tho dooee, and nothing !M

Th*nk you, Sir Pierce," rrpliod Arthur Aetou "I know you meaii It, th »ugh there's realty no occasion for your good ad vie*. And yon, you fellows, go on and chaff away aa much as

{ier

icwe

liner arrive* h«ro with!

time, and then drop it for good. Knowing the utter absurdity ol it, I don mind the chaff but, of course, if protracted it would become serious. There is no need to say any more, is there, boys You all understand

On that night was held one of the

Sistinction

rand bi-weekly beds pares, in contrato those free and easy assemblies, where all the best known ot the guests dropped in in such toilettes as suited them. But on the night of the bals pares evening costume was exacted, and all the proceedings were more formal. As the evening waned, our party broke up and with the exception of the old- uaronot, all strolled into the ball-rooms. Everybody was there cynosure ©t everybody Mademoiselle Gonfalon looJted magnificent in her amber satin dress, covered with the richest black lace, and with pink roses gleaming in her hair. As Arthur Acton entered the room it seemed as though by some mesmeric influence she was aware of bis approach. She looked up at once toward the door, and their eyes met. Hers were earnest, searching, imperious in his was an ex pression halt of annoyance, half of mistrust. Nevertheless, he obeyed tho quick motion of the fan, imperceptible to all but him, by which she beckoned him toward her, aud two minutes afterward they were whirling in the valse then just commenced.

Eugene Blake and little Jake Harris grinned at each other, and the former remarked, in the brogue which always burst out of him whenever be was at all excited. "It's to be hoped Miss Palliser's not jealous, or ther'l be wigs upon the green before we've done with this."

Two hours afterward tho moon shone on Madomoiselle Gonfalon, standing on the outer steps of the ballroom with her mantilla coquetisbly flung round her shoulders, and drawn over her head. "Ah, what pleasure she exclaimed "the hotel is close by, the night is quitd hot, and there is no need for the wraps Diego i3 searching for. I declare I will wait lor him no longer if you will be my escort, M. Acton. You will? Then'give me your arm Sue took his arm, and waved a laughing good night to those standing by, then tripped gayly down the steps and until they had proceeded some little distance into the shadow of the alle. Then stopping suddenly, sho confronted her companion, and with eyes looking full Into hifi, said, "What's this?" "What'8 what, Mademoiselle Gonfalon "Ah, bah, Mademoiselle Gonfalon! You know my name, I suppose?' Then suddenly changing her tone, "Arthur, what is it tonight? You are cold as your own dreadful countrymen generally you are distant. You vals ed because I asked you, not because you wished to, you have scarcely said a dozen words the wholo night what is it?' "It's nothing, Mademoiselle—we\l, then, Sebastiana—it is simply this We have been thrown together, more or less, since we have been here, and we've been very good friends, and I trust wo always shall be but—" "Well—but—" "It's an uwkward thing for me to say," said Acton, feeling hot all over, and stammering line a school girl. "But you see it—I mean'—or—it must not go any further."

Sebastiana looked at him for an in stant, and then said, in ft low, flat key, "Musn't go any further?" "No! Well, the truth is—the truth is. I'm going to bo married, you see, aiid my fuincc is coming here In a day or two, and it won't do for us to be— confound it all, I'm making's mess of it, I know I am!" And the man who had ridden coolly into tho Balakava charge,' now stuttered and wiped his brow, and looked and felt horribly afraid. "Are you going to bo married? said Sebastiana, standing upright as a dart, and still looking at nim, but with ry different expression iji her eyes,

ft ver.

Voila lo mot de enigmc

To a young

Engliuh lady?" "Yes." ,^ Whom you love?" "Whom I adore!" "And she is coming hero?", "She is—the day alter to-morrow, hopo."

I hopo so, too. I shall he pleased to see her. Now, lot us walk on, please." And. without waiting for his reply, she strode on until she reached the door of her hotel, which opened, she bowed her head without offering her hand, and, without uttering a word, passed through out of sight.

For two whole days and nights no ono, saved her Spauish waiting-woman giw Sebastiana Gonfalon. Had any eves penetrated into the room where sho was they would have lit on a figure stretched prostrate on a bed, with tearblurred face and hair floating wildly over fho pllloW, awd clenched hands, now upraised passionately, now falling with maddoned vehemence. Had there been ears to listen, they would have heard wild lamentations, self-accusa-tions, curse on the man who had so enthralled her, threats of vengeanco on her by whem sho had been supplauted In his affections. Ou the morning of the third day, however, there was an arrival at the hotel. The evidence that something was going to happen had drawn together a crowd of blue-blous-ed, woodeu-saboted peasants and children, reinforced, as the carriage came up, by others who had been attracted by the cracking ot the postilions' whips, and most of the hotel wiudows were filled with occupants. No ono could bo clearly soen at the windows of the mhn occupied by Mademoiselle Gonfalon, though from a certain blurred and misty outline traceable at that one nearest the hall door, it might have been inferred that it was not untenanted. When tho horses drew up at the door, a big courier, with a gold laced band to his cap aud a hujro beard on his chin, dismoutod, opened the carriage door, and handed out, first, an old lady with gray hair and bent frame, who descended with difficulty, resting on a stick, and then a tall, elegant young girt, with bright blue eves, a clear complexlon, and chestnut hands falling on either side of her face. These ladies, the younger especially, were received with great cmprctsmcnt by Arthur Acton, and conducted by him into the hotel. Five minutes afterwards, Don Diego Gonfalon, sipping his second glass of absinthe* and smoking his fourth after breakfast cigar on the promenade, was summoned by his French servant, who told him that Mademoiselle, his sister, wished to speak with him at once.

luminous black eyes. Her I lent air

vou tUe to-night, and lo^morrow and face was deadly pale, and her lips color-1 hold her dress, but walks like a emmel, day. Only, drop it after that, less and rigid. Diego marked all this 1 like all Et MissF*!'. nerarriTe#h«ro with

thv next day. Only, drop it after that, less and rigid. Diego marked alt this hike all English women."

1

brother on Friday, and there's no chair next to her, he took one of her only knew how nearly you were getne^t t« keep it quiet any longer nhe! hands in his, and, gaxing tenderly in- ting that peculiarly British blow and I are engaged, and are lo be mar- vo her taee said: known as "one for yourself!" ried in November. So go in far any} Yon are belter, my sister?" There was a baleful fury in Arthur oxtravasant nonsense you like about, Yeau my brother, much better with- Acton's eyes, and a fidgetty motion mo aud Mdlle, Gonfalon up ut thu4 in the last hour. To be quite well'about the shoulders-m use! of his

within a very few days, if all goes rightly, and you are true to me. She has arrived." "Ah, ha 1" and Diego drew a long breath between his toetb. "You have seen her

I saw her arrive! saw her received by him! saw him conduct her into the bouse! I saw his fingers tighten round hers, and hand glide into his."

And you still require "All that I urged, and you promised. All that should De demanded of one who has slighted a Gonfalon and your sister. His ruin first, thou his death "Nothing less?"

Nothing!" Don Diego shrugged his shoulders, kissed his sister's hand, and returned to his absinthe and his cigar.

There is a specially exclusive set at Bjden, a sanctum sanctorum known as the Ladies' Club, because no gentleman is admissible to its reunions, save on the ballot of tho lady members. It is held in one of the private rooms of the conversation-haus, and is frequented during theevening by the ladies and their attendant cavaliers. At a late hour, when the ladies have retired, those men who have the entree remain, and there many quiet games of cards are carried on, for which the ordinary public rooms would be too noisy and too exposed. It was after midnight when Arthur Acton stepped into the Ladies' Club, then emptied of its proper occupants, and given to denizens of the male sex, some of whom were already assembled round the card-tables. Arthur was in splendid spirits he had been the whole day with Miss Palliser, showing her the lions of the place, and she had been voted a tremendous succes by every one, Blase French marquises and pudgy German barons had roused themselves from their dominoes to stare after the fresh and brilliant beauty of the English girl. And she had been very sweet and affectionate to him, too and altogether he was in the seventh heaven of happiness, and showed it in his brilliant eyes and llashiug cheeks. He walked up to a knot ol his friends who were standing at the head of the room, nnd commenced charting with them, when ho felt his arm lightly touched, and, turning round, saw Diego Gonfalon. "I come to ask that revenge which you promised me after our ecarte two nights since."

Nothing could have been more mal apropos. Arthur was in no humor for a cool, calculating game at cards he was overbrimming with animal spirits, longing for some outlet for his happiness. lie replied, awkwardly enough. "Eh? Ecarte! To-night, do you think? I'm scarcely in humor tonight, and

You can't do that, Arthur!" said in English old Sir Pierce Coverdale, who was standing by "if you won the man's money last time, you are bound to play when he asks you, however inconvenient it may be, and

Well, be it so," said Arthur, with a sigh. Then turning with a sprightly air to the Spaniard, ho pointed to a vacant card-table, and said, politely: "Monsieur, je vous attend

They were well known among the frequenters of the club, those two, as first-rate players. As they took the cards, a little crowd gathered silently round and so soon as play commencca the bystanders began to bet. Soon there were a few murmurs in ihe ring. Acton was so thoroughly transported with happiness, so full of pleasant memories of the day with his beloved, that he appeared unable to fix his attention ou his cards, while his opponent was straining every nerve to the encounter. They formed a grand contrast, these two men the one, big, fair, jolly, light-hearted, and insouciant the other, tnin, swarthy, grave, and intently watching his own hand and at that of his opponent.

At three in the morning Diego Gonfalon returned to his hotel. He passed up the stairs with a light footstep, but as he neared his sister's room the door opened gently, and Sebastiana's grace ful head appeared, her finger on her lip. Obedient to her signal, he follow ed her into h«r chamber. 'n •*. -j "Well?" "Bad! worse than bad! lie played a fool, without thinking of cards, and he has stripped ine again! He must have won three hundred Isabellians, his confounded luck never deserts him for an iustant!" "That is unfortunate, Diego but it was a part of our scheme. The rest is to come! Now to bed, brother we will consult in the morning."

Tho next day the weather was cooler, a light breeze came playing over the Schwarzwald, and the promenade was thronged. The rumor of the beautv and grace of the newly-arrived English woman had spread and, in addition to its ordinary frequenters, many of those who only honored the promenade on special occasions had come but to judge for themselves, and were constrained to admU that for once report had not been exaggerated, Arthur |Acton. thoroughly observant of every loolc and glance gloried'in Miss Pulliser's success, and watched each succeeding triumph with renewed delight. Only once his brow clouded and that was as ho passed a group of men, amongst whom were Diego Gonfalon, a certain Count Tszcl), a Hungarian of unenviablo reputation, and a Captain Hall, a notorious English blackleg. These men raised their hats certainly, but with a kind of wic/fmifair. Miss Palliser had scarcely pawed before Acton saw Diego whisper something to his friends, who at once burst into loud guffaw. Acton flamed to the roots of bis bair, but said nothing. Chancing, however, to turn round a moment afterwards, he saw Diego Gonfalon mimicking Miss Palliser's walk, and the manner in which she held her dress, to the intense delight of his frienas. As the Palliser party, on their return, approached the spot where tho objectionable group were standing, Aithur noticed a movement among them and he had no sooner passed than Diego and his friends left their position, and followed on in the promenade immediately behind this English party. Two minutes afu rwards Miss Palliser stopped suddenly some one had trodden on her dress. Acton turned hurriedly round, and fancied be saw a smile on Diego's face. The obstrnsive foot had, however, been removed, and the promenade continued. Almost iiumediately afterwards the same thing occurred. Miss Palliser's dress was speedily released, and she and the other members of her party proceeded. Acton stood •till.

Yon have a singular knack of awkwardness, monsieur," said he to Diego Godfalon. "This is the second time that your stupidity has caused you to

He found her wrapped in a white muslin dressing-gown, ami seated in a low easy chair by the window. Her that yi luxurious black hair was hastily gath- treat! on the lady.s dress." ered up into a great knot at the back ot It is the lady's own fault, monher head, and there were bistre rings eieur," replied Diego, with an insoround her luminous black eyes. Her I lent air "-«be does not know bow to

one glance then dropping imo a "Ah! Don Diego Gonfalon, if you

right arm, which looked very ugly just at that moment. However, ne controlled bis passion sufficiently to say. "I have the ladies with mo now, sir. So soon as I am free—" "You will find me ready and willing, monsieur, whenever you like."

And Don Diego raised his hat, and turned on his heel. That night Don Diego went neither to the gaming-table nor to the Ladies' Club, but sought his hotel at an early hour, and went straight to bis sister's room. The door had scarcely closed behind him when she was by his side, hereyes flashing, her hands trembling, her whole frame in a state for intense excitement.

Well," she askod, "is it done Yes," said Diego, sullen "it is done arranged for to-morrow morning at sunrise."

How did is happen Tell me I'm dying to know." But Diego was cross, and indisposed to answer.

Ah! don't worry me about details! Is it not enough to know that he is challenged, and accepts?"

Sebastiana's eyes flashed fire, but she controlled herself. "Tell me one thing,then only one. Was she implicated "Yes the insult was given to her." "Good, good, Diego! You have indeed carried out all I wished. Who acts for you?" i-n-' .*: "Cabanel."

And for him An Old English milord, Sir Coverdale."

Sir Coverdale is his second He lives here in the hotel, does he not?" He does, in the opposite rooms." ,u.

Has he come in yet No. I left him at the Knrsaal, plaping trenteet-quarcnte. He will be there another hour yet. He is an old militaire, and such an affair as this does not in the least affect his usual routine."

Good Now go to bed vou will want rest. I will call you at (fay break. Madrilena!" And kissing her brother on the cheek, Sebastiana closed the door on him, and entered into deep converse with her waiting woman.

At five the next morning Ludwig Ivraus, an old woodcutter, who.was beginning to ply his daily occupation in the outskirts of the Black Forest, saw two carriages draw up at the turf path which he himself had cleared, leading from the unfrequented high-road into the depths ot the underwobd. From these carriages descended several gen tlemen, two of which bore them under their arms long, fiat cases, at sight of what the old wood-cutter smilod to himself.

It was by no means his first experience of such visitors, and he never saw them arrive without a certainty of pecuniary advantage to himself. Sure enough his expectations were not disappointed. Oue of the gentleman saw him, turned round, and, after apparently consulting with the others, beckoned to him. Ludwig advanced. "Tired of labor, lather?" said the gentleman. "Not yet sir," said the old mhn I only commenced at dawn, an hour since."

You must need rest. We are going to breakfast here, and shall require water. How far is it to the nearest spring

A good mile," replied the old man. Go and fetch a pitcher," said the gentleman, slipping a. Frederfck's-d'or into his band.

Don't hurry. You can go leisurely." The old man pocketed the coin, laid his axe across his shoulders, and went off whistling.

The two parties had come iu separate carriages, remained in separate groups, while the drivers wheeled their horses round and moved them some distance down the road. Although the gentlemen spoke among themselves, yet'each kept apart from the other. Then watches were produced, and some whispering ensued. At last the gentleman who had spoken to tho wood-cut-ter advanced from his friends, and nearing tho opposite party, took off his hat and saluted. No better man than he for such a meeting. Honore de Cabanel, cnicf iVcscadron of the African Chassenrs, a man who had been St. Anuaud's right hand through all the Kabylo war.

Time flies, M. Acton," said he, "wo wait your leisure." M. de Cabanel," replied Arthur, "I am sorry that I am the cause of the delay, however unwillingly. But Sir Pierce Coverdale, who was to be my second, has not yet made his appcaronce."

No one better acquainted with the code of the duello than Sir Coverdale, or more capable of conducting it in the most perfect mannei," said Cabanel, with a bow. "Something must have retarded him, he must be ill."

I certainly cannot understand his absence," muttered Arthur, looking into the tho far distance.

Will not Monsieur Acton's other friend act for himself?" asked Cabanel, inoliouing towards a gentleman standing near.

My oth:r lriend is a surgeon of the Austrian army—Monsieur Eugene Blake. I thought it necessary to have a surgeon on the ground, and gentlemen in that capacity cannot. I believe, acts as seconds?"

Certainly not," said Monsieur Cabanel. "Wonld Monsieur Acton accept the service of one of my party Signor Lopez Guerraltella, a Spanish gentleman from'Cadiz, an ofHccrinthe Queen's Guard, accompanies us to the ground, and would, I am sure, act for Monsieur Acton." As ho spoke he indicated a slim young man wearing a Spanish cloak and a heavy slouch hat, who was standing by in conversation with Diego. There were no signs of Coverdale's advent. Acton bowed, and after a word with Blake, notified his acceptance of Cabanel's offer. Then be and Cabanel proceeded to step tho ground. On their return Cabanal said: "It is agreed, I believe, monsieurs, that the combat shall a la barricrc that is to say, my friend and I have measured twenty-four paces, at either end of which we will place our men. At twelvoyards, the half distance, I have dropped a handkerchief as a mark. Signor Guerrabella and I will toss for first fire. Whichever principal, through his second, wins, has the right to either to fire from his place, or, walking up to the mark, to call on his adversary lo advance, even up to tho mark itself if he chooses, and then—act as he wishes! Gentleman, this is understood

Both principals bowed. "Now,Signor Guerrabella, the toss. Ha! you have won M. Acton the fire is with you!"

As he spoke, Arthur Acton turned sideways toward his opponent, covering him fairly and fully with bis pistol. Then suddenly flinging up his arm, be fired into the air. A short growl issued from Blake's lips a growl In which a nmr bystander might nave distinguished the words: "He ought to have winged him!"

It is your shot, sir!" said Arthnr, wheeling round ana confronting his ad-1 versary. "I intend to take it!" said Diego calmly, as he walked toward the hand-1

kerchief. "And I call on yon, M. Acton, in pursuance of the terms, to advance to this mark!"

In the name of heaven, stop this!" shrieked Eugene Blako, as. in obedience to the summons, Arthur slowly advanced. "This is sheer murder! Sir, I call on yon, turning to Guerrabella, "I call on you to forbid this

It is impossible to break the rule laid down !". said Guerrabella, speaking for the first time in a strange, muffled voice, unless M. l'Anglaise is afraid."

This one sentence was enough. Blake was silent, but horror-stricken and intent on the scene whilo Arthur Acton with pallid lace, stepped straight up to the handkerchief, on the other side of which Diego was waiting. A dead, still, horrible mini reigned around. It was broken by Diego, who said, "M. Acton, you deceived a Gonfalon! Your blood te on your head." The next instant thesound of a pistol rang through the forest,and Arthur Acton,siaggeriug for an instant,dropped heavily forward on his face. Blake sprang forward, but ere he reached his friend's side Gaerrabella was on his knee beside him. Bending over the prostrate bodv, he lifted the slouch hat, he pushed back the concealing cloak. Oue word escaped the dying man, 'Sebastiana!"

Aye!" muttered Mademoiselle Gonfalon, for it was she "I told you the character of my revenge. To the Death The next instant Arthur Actou expired.

The Squire's Mistake.

Squire Dudley was in his garden, pulling weeds in bis patch of tame strawberries, on the morning when he took a fancy for Ruth Lee's pretty face. She came down the road, looking as fresh as a new-blown rose, in her plain calico dress and straw hat. Mer I rown hair, cut quite short, blew all about her face in littls rings, and her blue eyes and bright cheeks made her as pretty a picture as one often sees. Squire Dudley saw her just us she came opposite tho strawberry patch, and called out "Good morning!" in his brisk, cheery way.

O, good morning!" she answered. "You almost scared me, Squire Dudley. I didn't see you until you spoke." "Pleasant morning, isn't it?" said the squire, comiug up to the fence. Ruth had baited in the road. "It's beautiul woather," answered Ruth. "I told mother it was too pleasant to stay iu-doors, aud started off on a visit."

Aro your strawberries ripe yet said the squire, wondering that he never had noticed what a fresh, charming face widow Lee's daughter had before. "Our strawberries!" laughed Ruth. "We haven't got one. Our'old rooster got in one day, about a week ago, and picked all be could cat, and then coaxed the hens in, and between them they ruined our strawberry crop."

Too bad exclaimed the sympathetic s.iuire. "Have some of these, Ruth. They're just ripe onough to be good."

He picked some great clusters of ripe bcriios, and handed them over the fence to her. "Thank you," said Ruth, smiling. "How nice they aro! Mother was making great calculations on her strawberry jim. SBe was terribly vexed when she found out what the hens bad dene." "I'vo got lots to spare," said the squire. "I'll send some over to your mother." "She'd bo much obliged to you," said Ruth, "If you have more than you want—"

Plenty of them," answered the squire—"plenty of them. Can have them just as well as not."

I must be going," ssid Ruth. "Good morning!" "Good morning!"returned thosquiVe, looking after her as sho went down the road. "1 declare, there ain't a prettier girl iu town than Ruth Leo. I wonder some ot the young fellows havon't got her away from the widow. If I was young now—"

Squire Dudley stopped suddenly. An idea hud just flashed across his brain. "I'm fifty," ho said at last, after thinking busily forsome minutes. "I'm fifty, but I dou't look like it. I don't soe whv I shouldn't try my luck, after all. Girls as youngas Ruth marry men older than I atn. 1'tn sura she'd make any man a good wife. Her mother is ono ot ho finest women in the State, and she's brought her daughter up to know how to work and bo saving and prudent. Fin sure we need a good bouseheeper. Mrs. Brown, she's old and fussy and crooked, and this way of living isn't half living. I do believe I'll marry her if she'll have mo. May be Charley '11 say it's foolish, but I can't help that."

The squire fell to wooding out his strawberries again diligently, and kept thinking about Ruth all the while. Long belbro dinner was ready be had fully mado up his mind to propose marriage to Ruth, and bring home a new housekeeper and mistress to the great house whoso mistress had been dead for ten years or more. Provided, of course, that Ruth didn't say no, and thesquiro thought thero wasn't much danger of that though why he should be so sure 1 can't say. "Don't you think we need a housekeeper?" he said to his son Charles, that afternoon, as they sat on the veranda. The squire evidently saw some new features in the landscape, for he kept his face turned away from Charley's as he spoke. "A housekeeper?" asked Charly. "We've got one. What do we want ol more, I should like to know

Yes, I know," assented the squire, turning ml in the face, and beginning to get a little uneasy "but Mrs. Browu isu such a woman as we need. She doesn't take an interest in the work us —as a woman would who—who had more intorcst in it."

After which extremely logical argufidf eter.

ment the squire go1 more fidgety than

I understand that," answered Charley. "If she had a personal Interest in the plsc*, and in being prudent, and keeping things uj, she'd do better than shu does now. Now she gets her pay for her work, and tbxt's all she carcs for. It's all we can expect of her." "Just so," said the squire, glad to know that Charley agreed with nim so far. "I've been thinking this morning that the best thing I could do wonld be to get some one who would take a personal interest in matters. I don't see aa JU intend to get married, and if you won't, I don't know but I'd bettor."

The squire breathed easier. The worst part was over with. You got married {"exclaimed Charley, in intense surprise. •'Why, I didn't know thai you ever thought of such a thing." "And I hsven't till thiy morning," exclaimed the squire. "I got to thiiHcing about it this morning, and the more though'* about it the more I thought it a good plan. You haven't any objections?'1 course not," answered Charley. "You CAB do as vou think best. If you deem it advisable to get a wife, 1 have nothing to say further than the hope

that you will get some one who will uiako you happy." She will," said the squire, very decidedly—"she will, I am sure."

May I ask who 'tis to be?" iuquired Charlev. "I—t havon't asked her yet?" answered the squire, as red as a rose. "I'd rather wait until I'm sure of her before I tell you who it is. She might say no, you see, and I should fool rather cheap."

Prudent Squiro Dudley. That afternoon he picked a panful ot his finest strawberries, aud directly after tea started off across lots in the direotlon of Widow Lee's, with the berries on his arm. It was dusk before ho got to the widow's, for he walked slowly. He had very busy thoughts for company. He was wondering what it were best to do. Should he propose at once to Ruth, or should he see her mother first, and talk with hor? He concluded that the last was the wiser plan. As ho opened the gate noiselessly he heard voices in the other corner of the garden, and stopped a moment to find out if it was the widow and her daughter.

I hever had anv idea of it before," said a voice, which he recognized as Charley's "not the least in the world. Ha said he hadn't thought about it until to-day. I couldn't find out whom he had in view. I hope it isn't old Miss Sharp. She'd like to get somebody."

The squire burst into a profuse perspiration at the idea of having Miss Sharp for a wife. "He said he didn't see as I ever intended to get married," went on Charley. "I didn't tell him I had got my wife picked out, but I wanted to. I'm sure he'd approve my taste iu making a selection/'

What nonsense laughed a clear, pleasant voico—Ruth's voice, the squire knew, the moment he heard it. "If I'm going to be your wife I waut you to quit laughing at me in that *ly way, pretending you're fluttering me all the time!" "His wife! Good gracious!"

The squire was so tuken by surprise that became near dropping his strawberries. So it was all soitled between them And he had conio n^»r proposing to his son's intended wife lie lelt cold all over at the thought of it. How lucky that he did not take Charley into his confidence, and tell him whom he had concluded to marry! "I declare!" exclaimed tho squire. "I've made a mistake this time, sure enough. The rascal got the Start of me. I'd like to know what I'm to do. I've told him that I intended to get married, and if I don't he'll likely as not mistrust something. Dear me!"

The squire was in trouble. Another bright thought occurred to him. There was the widow. After all, she would be more suitable for bim than Ruth would have been. She was somewhere near his own age. A fine woman. A smart woman. She would mako a fino mistress for his empty house. Why shouldn't be tnarry her, since he could not have her duughter?

I'll do it!" exclaimed tho spuire, bound to go through with the matter, slnco ho had got so far. "I'll do it!"

He knocked. The door was opened by the widow, round-cheeked, rosy, aiid smiling. "Why, Squire Dudley! Good evening!" she exclaimed. "I hardly know you at first, you havon't been here in so long. Come in take this rockingcba.r, and let mo take your hat."

The widow bustled about and got the squire a chair, and deposited his hat on the tablo, before he happened to think of his basket.

O! Ruth told mo your strawberry crop proved a failure, so I thought I'd run over and bring you a few. Strawberry short-cake don't go bad this time of year." "I'm ti thousand times obliged to

Jou,""I

said tho widow, taking the baset. was so provoked to think the bens should spoil mind. Such a nice lot as I would have had I" "If you want any preserves, come over and get 'em," said the 6quire. "We've plenty of'em. Mrs. Brown— sho won't do anything with 'em, except as wo uso them in the season of them, I suppose." "I want to know!" oxclalmed the widow. "You ought to have them done up. They're so nico in the Winter. I would like to got some for jam and if Mrs. Brown won't take care of them, I'll do them up on shares." "I wish you would," said the squire. "Things are all going to wreck and ruin about my place. 'Taint to be expected a hired woman will tako any interest in a flairs." And here he sighed deeply. "No, that's so," responded tho widow.

It was strange that thesauiro bad not found out how things wore going to wreck and ruin before. Mrs. Brown had been thero ever since Mrs. Dudley died.

The squiro and the widow kept up a very brisk conversation, aud at tho end of an hour ho was more deeply in love with the widow than he had beon with her daughter, and began to wonder how he had been so blind as to overlook such a delightful woman for so lone.

By-and-by tlio widow bustled out, and presently came back with a pitcher of last year's cider and a p.'ato of cake. "Do bnve something to eat and drink," urged tho widow. "If I'd known you were coining I'd have mado a cherry pie. I remember you used to like my cherry pics."

I—i wish you'd cotno and make cherry pies for me all my life," blurted out the squire, turning very red in th« face again. "I—1 came down to ask you to marry me, Mrs. Lec."

After which innocent falsehood the squire felt decidedly relieved. I'm sure I'd as lief marry you as any man." answered the wido«v, blushing, and looking as pretty as a rose.

It's all settled, then/' cried the delighted squire, and kissed her plump on her lips lust as the door opened and Charley and Ruth came in. "Allow me to make you acquainted with my new housekeeper," said the squire, bowing very low to hido his red lace.

And allow me to present my wife— that is to be," answered Charley. "Yoa, take the mother and I the daughter."

I am happy to say that, under the "new administration," things are no longor going to wreck and rnlii. ,.

"TrrEWnowaSftMBrV— A high officer of the Son's ot Temperance presenting himself with the smell of grog he had been drinking, at tho door of a "Division" for admission, was waited upon by an Irish sentinel, to whom ho gave the pass-word, when tho following passed: "Sir," said he, "and ye aro Mister O'Wright, the Grand Worthy Patriarch of the State of Kbaintucky, I do be after belavin."

Yes," said Jim, "you are perfectly right, my friend, but why do you ask the question?" "Totell yo the truth, then sir, and shame the devil," said Pat, "ye do be bavin' the right pass-word for a Son of Temperance, entirely but by the blessed Saint Patrick ye've got the wrong shmell!''