Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 40, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 3 April 1875 — Page 2

THE MAIL'

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

THE NARROW HO USK

A narrow house, bnt vtr still it seemeth A Rllcnt home, no stir or tumult hert-. Who wins that pillow of no sorrow dreameth,

No whirling t*cho«sjar hi* *talel ear Tho tlrwl hand lieu very calm and quiet,, The weary foot uo more hard patlis will The grait world may revolve In elnli und riot,

To It* loud summons leaps nor heart n*r head. The violet* bloom above the tranquil sleeper.

The morning dews fall gently on the grass Amid the daisies kneels the lonely weeper. He knows not when her lingering foot-

KU'US t)il-*W

The autuifin winds sigh softly o'er ills slum

He does not care the flyingyearsto number, The narrow home content* Its slleut guest.

No bartlel hope ran haunt, no doubt perplexes, No purUKl love the deep repose can chafe, No pettv aare can 1 k, no trouble vexes,

Froin"mlscon!tructlon his hushed heart'« safe. Freed from the weariness of worldly frettln-.

From pain and failure, bootle.-^ toil anu strife, From the dull wretchedness of vain regretting,

He lies, whose course has passed awny from life.? A narrow home, and far beyond it lieth

The land whereof no mortal Hps can tell We strain our sad eyes a* the spirit tlieth. Our fancy loves on heaven's bright lulls dwell. God shuts the door, no angel lip uncloses,

Horns knows all that, but Iiorus doesn't care. Not lie! Every once in a while ho comes in and squats himself down for a day's talk. When llorus comes, or any other ehronic visitor, I can no more writo than if I were trying to make a comic almanac with the hangman's rope around my neck, and ho standing over me waiting to tighten the loop unuer my left car. Yea! I can 110 more writo with that stale, stupid, staring liorus in the house, than if old Nick was sitting on my writing-desk, waiting to tlv away with mo as soon as I finished. "On the whole, I think I hate visitors. Yes, I'm sure I do. That is to say, I like visitors real well, if they'll only stay away from me. I have no ill-will to them, per xr. Hut my living depends on mv having my precious, golden daylight" week-days to do mv work in. When jMJopio come and sto il those golden daylight week days, or any part of them"from me. then those people steal them, trom me. men inww iwupre nwmi just that much of my living, and it doesn't do them any gwod, cither.

Drat that Horus! Horns cam© and stole my afternoon and carried it away with him. I didu't got my work half done. I was so overcome with ragp and disapnolntment thereat that I fell down in a tit, and before thev could take ofT my false hair I was dead. Hesides that, when I fell over in tho lit my belt-buckle fell uppcrmost, and tho weight of it crushed (ho breath out o' me. That is the simple storv of tuv sorrowful termination. I half inclined to think that life is but a vapor.

So I died and was going to ba burled. I was dressed in my coflin cos'ume. I must say thev didn't dress me as nico as I thought they might have done, all things considered. Hut the friends bought my husband a beautiful, shiny now black suit to attend my funeral in. I heard and saw all that was going on, as I lay there dead in my c6flln. I uov or knew that was the easo with dead folks in general, but perhaps an exception ww made in favor. must say again that I didn't feel Mattered by tho carryings-on over me in my coffin. The partner of mv late joys arrayed himself [n his shiny new black suit, and in the intervals of his shedding tears, peeped alylv into the looking-glass to see how it fitted him. Between ourselves, he didn't shed more than half as many tears over mv dead body as I always thought be would. And I hoard an old maid say to a widow: ..... "sklmmlns Is a good lookln wan, ain't he? And If he take* care ol them clothes thov'H do tor his wedding suit when he gets his second wife. I wonder who she'll be?"

It has always been a fancy of mine that Id like to go along with the folks to mv funeral, to see whether they gave me a big funeral, and particularly to hoar what they said, and see whether thev cried much or not. (I always wanted a big fVinoral.) W ell, uiv whim was grntlfted in one respect at least. I beam what they said about me. The people whom I particularly didn't like, while In the body, all came to my funeral. Old Mrs. Wiggers, who had slandered me behind my back, and bated me mortally, waa the first one to c:me. She perched herself at the head of mv coitln, and gave a history of me evervbodv who didn't know all about It aina«1v.

JxuA

Ills

The winter plle?s the snow-drifts o'er

They whom Christ raised no word guidance said. Only the Cross sjw aks where our mist 1 poses. "Trust Him who calls unto Ills rest our dead."

In a Thousand Years.

I was dead and buried. At least I was dead, and was going to l)e buried. I died rij?ht suddenly. One afternoon I bad a piece ol work to do, which had to be finished off before dark that night, or the sky would fall. I was working* with might and main, with good hope that I could complete my task and be happy, when who should drop in but IJorus. JloruB is a chronic donkey.. Some times I'd like to crack Boras' skull, I feel so enraged at him. He comes to our houso ana sits the dajT out, if we happen to all be very busy indeed. I don't thank anybody for coming to my houso, only evenings and Sundays. I have a fow, very few, good old friends, whom I particularly ask to come. I expect to wasto my timo for them, and I don't mind it but life isn't long enough to wasto any of it on tin Jkirus. I'm but a dreary slow-poke, anyhow, and although I race as hard as I can, from morning to night every day, for all that I'm about two years behind the rest ol tho world. I'm a constitutional poke, as great a poke as tho Constitutional Convention.

faneral was

readv to start the old hypocrite went into "the closet, took down my new blue cloak which rd never worn, and put it on her own old back, andCOOUTstrutted off with it. She moved around a little while among the mourners with her uglv crocodile Oice, and then sneaked off and sat down by tiw kitchen n»v« and smoked her pipe. Siwkr two dropped down fhmi licr old black baccy pipe, and burnt a hole In new

Skimmins'll have some peace now, I s'poee. He looks asif be needed it, poor man."

Then several Hypothenuses remarked in chorus: Now we'll have peace all round.

My relations looked serenely at my cold clay—it wan astonishing how composed they all were—and murmured: •^Natural as life know It anywhere. Always had that sour, ill-natured look, poor thing!"

Boras—that ooDtleninable old stick-ing-plaster who had finished tne—IJorus was there, too, in the ?omer, with the Hypothenuses, to one of another of whom he would remark, every now and then: "Queer creature that E. A. Hadn many friends. I used to pity her. Sometimes from sheer compassion, I used to drop in and talk to her a lew minutes. She told me the day she died that my society was an unspeakable consolation to her."

How

»«»rs

did burn

to Dull

a I I

could fan the bhizea all tho hotter and higher for me down there in that bad place. That's a fax orite dodge of orthodox persons when they are preaching about dead sinners. I've noticed. I've heard fifty-nine such sermons about Lord Byron in my time. An expression of heavenly satisfaction sat upon the countenance of Old Wiggers aa the preaehor proceeded, and beamed out like a sunburst when finally he conveyed this, our sister, down to that bad

Rer

lace and laid her upon a shelf to wait turn for roasting. I tell you the corpse was furious!

Nothing was as I wanted it, and nobody critd half as much as I expected. I was disgusted. Next time 1 had a funeral, I thought I'd prefer not to know about it.

For reasons already stated, my residence in tho postmortem world was not wholly satisfactory. For reasons which became afterward apparent, tho postmortem world was mostly a kind of confused bewilderment to me. However I found mvself ablo to answer a question which I' have heard asked an immense number of times in Sunday school chorus as follows: "Shull we know each other there? Shall we kn«w each ether? Shall we know each other? Shall we know? Shall we know? Sliail we know eaeli other?"

No and I'm glad of it. For what seems to me a very indefinite time, I lay buried. For all I could remember it might have been an hour, or it might have boen a million years. I had 110 longer any consciousness of the flight of time. All was mostly a blank to me, until I had a sudden consciousness of a dig in my ribs. Pi»!dig!it came again, twice and threo times, now at tho other side, and now at the back of my neck. At the same time I hoard a curious murmuring, which at length cleared itself into the sound of a solemn, pompous voice. My eyes opened a little, and I heard and saw that tho voice proceeded from a dignified, owly gentleman wlufclookod like a professor of ancient languages. Ho held a curious sort of book in his hand, and solemnly read through his noso a lot of stuff in which I could hear ever and anon, words about the Mystory of Wooden Men. At the same time was kept up that ferocious dig! dig! at my ribs. I struggled wrathfully to give utterance to my feelings, and at length found voice onough to exclaim c\ "Stop punchin'!"

Kind reader! It was in tho year 2874. and I had boen in a trance one thousand years. You remember the legend of the Seven Sleepers In the Catacombs of Rome—seven young and beautiful Christians who went to sleep one day and slept a hundred years, until the per-, secution of Christians had long since ceased, and the Seven Sleepers waked at tho end of a hundred years, as young and beautiAil as over. So it was with mo. I bad beon asleep a thousand years, and had waked up from my ten centuries' slumber, just as yming and beautiful as ever—J list exactly. I had awaked In the Hereafter, aujong tho eople of the Hereafter. There was ut one person among the Hereafters

1.?S?fifiv

No," says the Professor,

olof.k.

How I did aeheto jump outof mr coffin and tear her «*$ off far her, the old

tlTl?t]' HrpoUienuses were out at my funeral in full force. They whimpered together, and I heard one of 'era say

Thank heaven, we've heard the last of her clack!" One woman gated upon mv inanimate orpus with all the malignity of a greyheaded uv*quiu, and rwinarkM:-

"It must have been infinitely fatiguing when people had to talk with their tongues and bear with their ears, to bare a long-winded talker tackle you and worry your ears with aa eyerlastlng string oi trash. I wonder you weren't talked to death." 44

Yes" says I, "I was just that."

Now," says the Professor, "it's all different. The gabble of the human voice wearying unwilling ears is hardly ever heard."

What," exclaimed I, "don't you ever sing any operas?" No, thank God It is an incomprehensible mystery to me, how the ancients over endured what they called an opera. I mako out from the study of some old and scarcely legible records, that they used to hire what they called a prima donna, and pay her a fabulous price for stretching up her neck and screeching a theater play at the verjT top of her voice. 'I he higher she stretched

til 11(1 UiVOt 1 IIW up her n4ck, and the higher she screech

The*tHrpse could hardlv keep its lace ed, the more delighted these savages .. MTt 4U«f UftlU W «*M7»hVt»Tha ^ffln"after tha't. How wero. I

gather

S f^ks are Hod on! The corpse nov- that our heathen lathere used to bit in a ri Sl io riSiir in its life as stale of rapture for two or. three hours, b^ri wanted u» choke that Bonis, and listen to this barbarous and unnatafter i^was dead.

wave wanted the Wicked Parson to brains and ears could have been like Sli m! funeral. I know I shouldn't ours. It is with hope of understanding RS£togo to the bad place if he preach- this heathen game or amusement called edit That's why I wanted him. But an opera, that I have so long eagerly dosired to solve the mystery of the Wooden Men."

old Mrs. Wiggers was boss of ceremo nies at mv funeral, and she had a spite at mo and wanted me to go to the bad place. My good friend, the Wicked Parson, wasn't summoned at all. They

141

from the ancient records

the corpse's Jin- ural yowling. Curious sort of cars they

Horus'nose! Al- must have had. I don think their

Whv," says I,

of a mystery. I knew scores and scores of wooden men in my time. Sticks,

1 III Dv/ll I* iJUUIIIIV V* 1 irot a true blue fellow who won't read you know. the Sunday Commercial till Monday. The'Professor did appear to underand he held me up to p..int a moral and stand, and I went on with my questions, adorn a tale with. He made an Awful I tried to turn over VIIZ.eT.l

joints. fessor:

Don't you think you'd better send for tho doctor:"

44Doctor?

What is that? Ah! I re

member a soit of magician, who pretended to charm dead people back into life by stuffing little balls and powders down their throats. I catch the idea, do I not Did you really have doctors in the age of tbe Woodeu Men? There has not been one on the earth for five hundred years. The world outgrew its superstitious belief in doctors centuries ago. People don't get sick very often now, and when they do, they are all wise enough to cure themselves."

Don't you even have surgeons, any more?"

Sureeons Were they the magicians who cutoff people's legs and heads? No there isnH one left. Such ponderous volumes of rubbish as these magicians had! I've read a lew of them. Frequently I've como upon accounts ol what they called

But in wise of accident?"

never

did." i' I sighed. You must know," compassionately continued the Prof.-fssor, "that your language it tbe language of the past." "What, then, is the languageot the

We converse wholly by soul-reading. One mind thinks a thought and wills that that thought shall pass into another man's skull tne other mind tak« the thought up and answers It. Thars how we converse altogether now. It a quick as lightning, and tbe advantage of It is that two minds can converse just as well a thousand miles apart as they can in the same room. Distance makes no difference."

Don't you ever have any Posfcwtlcea, ibi^n «. xV for we don't need 'em. Our new svsteui of soul-telegraphing does away with all that. Bout reads soul,« answers to fi»co io a mirror. "Can a soul rBadaiiother wul all the same'when that sou abusing it like fury behind its back

Partly, yw. And tbat makes people careful what thoughts they have of their absent friends. It Is a universal safeguard Against that habit of talking slander which used t«

Accidents belong only to a barbarous age. In the state of civilization there are no accidents. Also, I read that the Wooden Men had other magicians called preachers, who professed, if they were well paid for it, to bo able to lead other people to heaven. Ono of the writers of the age of Wooden Men says that religion was necessary as an instrument of government, and therefore it was necessary to fostor what the rulers knew to bo superstition, in order to keep their subjects under, because where people do not believe they do not obey. Accordingly the preachers went hand in hand with the rulers, and so essential was their assistance regarded by the rulers .that oftentimes these preachermagicians were maintained by theStato. But people gradually eeased to havo any faith in them, because, with the exception of a few pure and devout men, their lives were no whit bettor or less selfish than the lives of other people, and they didn't seem to do tho world a bit of good any longor. When people saw that preachers didn't seem to know any more about tho road to heaven than they themselves did, then they refused to pay the preacher magicians any t«ore money, and then of course preaching, as a regular trade, fell into decay. Now we all do the best we can, and every man goes to heavon by his own road."

You've "settled the business of the doctors and preachers," says I ••now for the lawyers?"

Yes, I remember. At firfet in my investigations of ancient literature, I thought that tho lawyer was a kind of monstrous beast, a sort of land-shark, whs devoured men, women and children. But as I studied 011, and became moro familiar with tho manners and customs of the Wooden Men, I discovered that the lawyer was a half-civilized man, like themselves, who pretended to

ihn'iimi'^nnil mv talk It was the settle their disputes. So far from doing owly-lo»king gentleman who appeared that, however, it seems that ho really like a professor of ancient languages. «i««nnk*i ainomr theso imio-

let th',m il, hi. clutcbe., ...1 be was

all in hopm he might somehow solve the obliged to rcsort to downright stealing mnfetrvW thfl Wooden Men to enrich himself. At the same time the

vears says the Professor, tribo of lawyers increased so that they ouS? llmlliu" relk. *11 h«dtog» to ««allng In order ,o live hJv? S!n ^profound ponl. to tbe xci- J""* 'bey went, staling ontiflc world. All those relics were wholesale, right and left, until tbe poor, found together in a cave."

Anil a relic?" says I. mournfully. ed all the law Yes." says tbe Proftessor, "you are of one of the Wooden Men." on for li le, *7 ^1

No," says I, "Pm a wooden woman, ond of the tnbe and my name is A. In y»ur ac- trade of law. The doctor^ lawyers and quaintance with ancient literature, did you never hear of a distinguished writer of the name of K. A

be so

widely prey-

MUIII among the ancients, particularly their women."

Yes." said I, "how nice it most be! But I don't ace how the women exist without it."

My lrieud tbe

Shouldn't be surprised, indeed. Bat tell me—I used to live In a place called Cincinnati. Did you ever happen to hear of that town

Tradition points out the spot where it used to lie. There is much discussion among antiquarians as to its true history. Some faint, queer sort of tracks remain in tbe spot where the town used to be—two taint parallel lia«i, running along for miles, in some direction*. Thev are just discernible now, and learned men have discussed the nature oi those lines tor years. It is conceded now, however, that they are tho tracks of tbe beast Kilichusgnrus, a monster who devoured the ill-wed city. There were two tremendous beasts—the Ring beast and the beast Kilktbusgoras. The Ring beast ate up all of Cincinnati that the beast Kilteiiuagorus left and tho KiHchusgoru«, who had been lying in wait, made a meal of the Ring beast, and finished him. After that Killchu*goros himself died in a fit in the futile attempt to swallow the Ohio river. That's all we know of tbe history of the

^Dear! dear f' says I,sorrowfully. Presently 1 roused up from my mournful reflections, and asked 44

What do yon do with bores who visit vou nowadays?" The Professor smiled with a pleased took, and then laughed outright.

Professor,

Thev were the last, sorest, most unconquerable evil that civilisation had to fhrht against. Centuries and centuries

qontfiiatti *"cial

all the wisest heads among both men and women studied tho hard problem, what to do with the bores wlio visited working peeple, and bothered them, and took up their time, andruined their days and nights. Only witbiu the last five years has civlli&tiou solved the problem. Five years ago a genius invented a beautiful maw trap. It consists of a very sharp knife working noieclessr ly in a groove It is set in motion by noiseless machinery. A sheltered jost of lookout is built for the master and mistress of tbe house, where, themselves unseen, they can see every soul that rings the door bell. When they hoar a knock, they look quietly out, and if it is ono of the dreaded, hated tribe of Bores, a spring in the wall is softly touched, when,To! out pops the sharp knife like a flash of lightning,and slices tho Bore's head off beiore he knows he's hurt. There never was au invention equal to it since the world began. It has stopped tho Bore business entirely. People have learned to stay at houi'o, and uilnd their own business now." "Dear me! If I'd only known of it in my time, I'd been living yet."

they're not so much

My friend," continucu the Professor, "mighty changes have been wrought since your day.

I11

your day streets

were lit with gas, at night. Now wo use electro-magnetic light, a magnificent illuminator, only dreamed of by the Wooden Men. Steam is done away with. People travel by electricity, have themselves shot out of a battery, and get there before they start. We don't have wars any more. The last great war ou record was the Women's Whisky War. By means of a latent power in a man's soul, ridiculed by the Wooden Men, a man's mind is now ablo to travel through space to the remotest regions and discover what his friends are doing. Clairvoyants in every house can look in a globe of mesmerized water and see into the middle of next year, and tell you what is to happen. Folks don't havo to keep house any more. It's all done by

machinery.

4beantiful

surgical

operations,' and on reading about any one of them I've found that it was usually sure enough a most beautiful operation, but nnrortunately thepafient nearly always died after it. So surgeons fell into bad repute, and we don't hayo.suiy now/'

You have only to

turn a crank in the morning and set it going, and then your whole house keeping goes on beautiful till next morning, when you wind up your clockwork and set it going again. That's all you have to do."

Thank Heaven for that!" I exclaimed in tho fullness of my hdart.

4,And

now if you'd be pleased to show mo the latest fashions. I'm dying to know how the civilized lady dresseslierself."

Here is a fashionable lady just approaching us." I looked. It was a hot summer day, and the lady was barefoot, for comfort. She wore a sort of meal-bag, with a hole in the sides to put her arms out. Her hair was cropped short about her ears, and she hadn't a peg, or a pin, or a screw, or a crimper, or a frizzle, or a rib bon, or a whirligig in it.

That was the fast ionable rig of Anno Domini two thousand eight hundred and soventy-fonr.

jDarrow's Pond.

Darrow's pond was frozen. This fact, to the young people of Clifton meant skating and if Darrow's pond had been a rational being it would have expected visftors when the Frost King first fettered its dancing ripples. Not being rational, but only a clear, pretty lake, perhaps it did not care but to those accustomed to heed the

voice

that nature ever

speaks to those who love her it seemed that the frozen lake smiled a welcome to the merry party that came down its banks on this December afternoon. In twos and threes, young men and maidens, they reach tho lake. There are the Davis sisters, and their brother next came Fanny Merrill and her cousin, John Rushton then Retta Marstonand her brother, and Fred Stone, and, last of all, Nina Kenyon and Lou Walls 03 attended by Lawrence Winston and Eugene Durant. What shouts of merry laughter rang out, and how the gay echoes answered from the Clifton hills. What awkward attempts Lena Davis made, and how patient Will Maiston was in his efforts to teach her. How Lillie Davis flirted with Fred Stone, and how Retta Marston's black eyes danced with fun as she teased shy George Davis. The pool follow was head over ears in love with his dark-eyed tormentor, but it was doubtful whether or not he would ever summon the courage to tell her so.

keep John from interrupting my

fun yet, Nina there's a good girl," said Famiv Merrill, in hasty aside, as she skatccl off with Mr. Winston. Nina smiled, and did her best to console Mr. Rushton for his disappointment, though she was half-amused and half provoked to note his disconsolato expression as Fanny left them. The prettiest and most graceful skater was Louie Wallace. She looked like an elf from Fairyland, she was so small and frail, and yet so lovely in her coquettish skatina-dresa of dark blue, with her golden hair knotted back, here and there a looso curl escaping from the ooil, her blue eyes dancing and her cheeks crimsoned with oold. Nina's dark eyes followed the light figure lovingly, as she answered Mr. Rushton's last question.

An orphan No her father is living. Her mother died when Louie was

J3tt,

preachers all disappeared during the same century. Civilization advanced with wonderful rapidity after that."

Durant seems very devoted," said Rushton,as the two couples again passed each other, "or is that just his ordinary manner?" ,,

Nina shrugged her shoulders. "Really I cannot tell you." Shall we listen to the words passing between Louie and her tall cavalier? They are skating side by side. They approach a place in the ice. Eugene "Give me your hand, Miss Louiebreakers ahead."'

She glides from him and Joins him after they pass the roughness.

You are too proud to bo taken care of, are you?" says Eugene.

11,1(1

4,'Pride

goes before a fiall,r remember." So it JKftrri#." buighed Louie, looking over her shoulder to where Fred Stone lay sprawling on the ice.

Miss Louie, do be serious for a minute." Mr. Durrant, do be serious for several minutes." ".Are you going to answer tbe question 1 asked you ju&t now?"

She flushed scarlet, but said nothing. I have tbe right to demand an answer, Miss Louie. Is it yes or no

Yes, if she hesitates and cuts circles in tbe ice. If what?"

If papa will siy so," says

Louie,with

a little quiver in her voice, half angry and half mournful.

I hope not," Eugene says. Louie, do you love me Oh, altera fashion," and I off to the other end of the pond,

Oh n." and darts

So the afternoon wears on, till, weary of their sport, and when tbe winter stars P«J and the hills.

their sport, and when tbe winter star* :ep forth, I farrow's pond Is deserted, id the echoes ring out no more among

Twe nights afterward there was a tarty at Mrs. Davis'. Louie looked prettier than ever in her drosa of pale blue, cloudy with misty, her golden nair caught back with "tender blue forget-me-nots." So thought her escort, I- red Stone, who must be considered an im-

partial judge, for to him Nina Konyon's fair face was the fill rest in all tbe world. Nina was not a beauty, but she looked very handsome that night, in her black lace dress, with scarlet pomegranate blossoms in her hair.

Eugene Durant was late he eame alone, and after paying his respects to the hostess, stood watching the moving throng, till he saw the golden head ana laughing eyes of Louie Wallace. It was not long "before be persuaded her to promenade with him.

441

wont to see your father to-day," he said, after a little, in a tone that did not express much pleasure at the tboaght. Louie looked up questionlngly.

Come out nere and let me talk to you." said Eugene, and they stepped out 011 tho sheltered porch.

Your father refused hisconsent. He says, and very justly, tbat lam too wild. I told him that I could and would bo steady for your sake, but he didn't havo much faith ia iny promises. Then he said you wero too young to think of marrying auybody."

Too young!" said Louie, with all tbe insulted dignity of almost eighteen. "Anything else?"

Eugene was silent, but he set bis teeth as he remembered the taunting words the rich man had said to liim.

What else did papa say?" demanded Louie. What more do you want? You and I havo each furnished an objection."

And papa famishes another."

No," and he spoke bitterly "I furnish that, too."

Papa needn't say It is because you are wild and I'm young," Louie says, impetuously. "I knew better, money Is the only thing he cares for. He

Louie!" Eugene's face was stern. "Don't talk so it is not right. Your father loves yon dearly, and you know it." And Louie is penitent in a moment.

441am

grasping the edge,

Will Mars ton. Aud they stood still with fast-beating hearts, while he care

Keep

said Will, walking rapidly towards his sleigh. Fortunately, it wa* but a short distance to Mr. Wallace's, and it was but a very few minutes before Louie was at home, and she

ew minutes before Louie was at

insisted

He'll starve himself to a spell of sickness," said tho old doctor to Mrs. Kenyon, "and then we'll havo him to take care of." iSirning to Nina, ho continued: 4Doyou, Miss, arrange a lunch, light but substantial, take it to him, and make him eat it. Can you do it

44111try,"

She placed the little tray on tho table, and turned to him. He had thrown 1 imseifon the sofa again, and she""stroked his thin, gray hair with a soft, soothing touch, and talked to him in a low, soft voice, till he seemed quieter. Then, bringing the tray, she sat down,' saying. "No, von need not frown. I am head nurse In this ward and I say you must eat this bit of chicken." She chatted brightly to him until ho bad eaten what she had then, replacing tho tray on the table, she stroked the throbbing temples again until the tense muscles relaxed and he slept quietly. The weeks passed by and still Louie lingered. The fever was gone it had left her as. weak as a little child, and she had a cough that souuded like a knell to tbe loving ones around her. But her father persuaded himself that there was no dangor, and went back to his •beloved countinghouse, thinking each day, "3Iy darling is almost well her eyes are bright and her cheeks are red." Had be no thoughts of his dead wife, Louie's fair young mother whose brilliant eyes and crimson cheeks had been only signs that she was slowly and surely dying? Wes* often forget that tho bloom on the cheek may bo but the shadow of thered flag of death that the light In tbe eye may be caught from the brightness of heaven.

Come tu-morrow," said Louie, as Nina Kenyon was leaving her, one afternoon. "lam so lonely here Aunt Hattie is busy, and nurse Sarah is so deaf. Come, won't you

441

will. Birdie," said Nina tenderly. "Good-bye." At the gate she met Eogene .Durant. He ioiiietl her, and as they walked down the street he inquired after Louies health. "I don't think she Is any better," answered Nina sadly. "I d°nt think she will ever be well again. She looks so frail, and has such a wretched cough.'

While she spoke there had corne a quick tvomor over Durant's face, but be did not reply at once, and when be did bis voice was steady, and he soon changed the subject. Words were spoken bofore they parted tbat neither would soon forset. As shewent into the house Nina thought: "Ho* could I speak so to him I bad no right to do it.

In his room that tiignt Eugene muttered to himself: "A brute's life was that

window he caught a snatch of song from somo one passing— ••Wiilt for me at Heaven's gate," —and tbe words smote him with a quick, sharp pain. Would it be at the pearly gates that she would wait for tiim How should be gain the haven where her pure spirit would rest And she was dying, dying, dying. With a muttered word he sprang up, seized his hat and went out.

Hallo, Eugene! just going foryeu. Come on, old boy." And no felt his arm pulled through John Iiushton's. An hour afterward Eugeno was seemingly tho gayest of the rolling party in Lawrence \Vinston's room. And yet, strangely mingled with the clink of glasses and the shouts of laughter, there •came to him the sound|of Nina Kcnyon's voice, in those throe words, "A brute's life."

poor, but I will be rich. I will

mako money. Will you wait for me, Louie?"

Yes, I will wait," she answers gravely, raising her pure, truthful eyes to his face. "I will wait lor you,"

Another skating party a fow weeks after Christmas. The Davis Sisters and Durant were not there. There had been a slight thaw, and in some places the ice •was too thin for safety but it seemed that tho danger only added to the sport. Thev were in the midstof a race, when those in front were startled by a auick, frightened cry, and turning, saw a break the ice, and a tiny, gloved hand he edge. back, all of you!" shouted

fully approached the break. He was

inanimate form in his arms.

of the cold, white face.

Up.

They succeeded in reviving her, the dark eyes were gaxiug at

uliVl C»UC mmv B&J I W A via

answered she, as she left

the room, to comply with this peremprequest. When she tory request. When she knocked at Mr. Wallace's door he opened it himself. "No, take it away I want nothing. I cannot eat."

ScCTub splendid eyea and scornful should Io^c his wuq mouth, and the pbwae kept ringing In

his ears—"A brutes life. He threw tbe book on the table and leaned back in tbe chair musing, as the smoke of his

promised, "I will wait for

Louio's room.

Dusky twilight ... igh tho open window came the

Through

curls on the pillow and watching with sad, loving eyes, the wasted fitce they shaded.

Nina, after I am. dead—don't clasp ,• me so tightly, please—will you givo a message from me to—to Eugene?"

Y'es, darling," and Nina shaded her face in her fair curls.

Tell him that I loved him to tho etui —that the last prayer I offer in this world shall be for him and Oh! Nina. tell him, for his dead mother's sako and mine, to meet us both in Heaven." A fit of coughing came on then, and she looked so white that Nina felt alarmed, and rose to call her mother.

It is nothing," said Louie faintly, but even as she spoke there came a dash of crimson on her lips,and Nina's frightened cry brought Mrs. Kenyon from the adjoining room, and Mr. Wallace from the library. Far into tho night they passed by Louie's bedside, while her lite went slowly out. Resting in her fathor's arms, she looked at Nina in mute entreaty, and Nina said softly: y'

441

will not forget. Is that what you want to ask me?" The pale lips smiled faintly then her us rested on her fathor's face and with

uze rested on her fathor's face and with his kiss on her lips, she shut her tired eyes in tho dreamless sleep that knows no waking while the earth endures.

his face was very palo but calm, and

that she was much bet- g^y, \^itha tender yearning look, as

w.h'f, &

Jitti

Nina was standing, oGuccaled by tho heavy curtains, in tho room where Louie lay in her eoffin, whon she heard a step in the room. Turning, slio saw a man bending over the coflin. HQ touched *, 'J his lips to the pure, cold brow,aud when he raised his head, Nina saw Eugene

Durant's face. She shuddered it was so lined and worn with pain. Ho did not

ang

was n0£

ju-it*in time to grasp the hand as it slip- ^ut jate in tho afternoon, Nina found ped from the ice, and he soon held the bim by the new-made grave. Ho turned inonimotfl tv»r*n in hia arms. to go, but Nina held out her hand, and

Poor Louie—this will kill her, inur- jje jt silently, with a clasp that mado mured Retta Mars ton as she caught sight iier finger ache. -V fnro

We must get her home, Miss Nlra,' alfc* J-

jeft the room quietly. Ho *,*•

present at tho funoral services,

Mr. Durant, she loft a mcssago for t! you shall I give it to you now He bowed his head but did not speak, and with quivering voice silo recited Louie's words. When she finished she looked

the

ter but ia tho night she waked with a ju glowing clouds he saw tho gates high fever and inflammation of the of light, and Louise standing thero beokl lungs. For weeks her life hung by a

enjng

anri Hnrinff ft.ll that titfl6 MrS. IIA AfliiivKf Vtia hr/taflt

thread, and during all that time Mrs. Kenyon nursed hor with untiring care. Mr. Wallace to as almost frantic at the thought of losing his idolized daughter. Heshutbimsolfin bis own room, as he was not allowed to outer Louio's, refusing to eat or drink. 44

Unable to retrain JUT

it? Ye*, that wai it. How those eyes ol hers blazed when she said it. She's right It is a brute's life—pshaw!" and be toek up a book to drive away tbe unpleasant her al' my"lm^8i"*rdinn atige 1. Ic read. Lver between him andI the print- believe that! Joveyou now aa a ®d SSf'AftSlSiK should love hia wife V" She bowed

cd page there came a nee, aoara, ciear ..

in the chair musing, aaxue w'eyes, and silently laid her band in cigar curled upward. Though to of failing that at last her long trial was came to him: her imarc arose before an

W«rilWSU"j waiting her reward had come at W

you."

"And

now moat she die?—die In her bri^ht J?^?r umn. ym. Know, n, Abewm hi.:' h^isbe not promlwd often heard of Shwtsp

Mmf Throng lbi h.ltopen Italic-" Y« bo

sunset

WUUOl wftl UI1it

to him with hersmaliwliito hand.

He anight his breath. "I thank you," Sfjtftfr he said, and Nina left him.

Did you know Durant had left, town asked Fred Stone of Nina Ken-" f" yon, one eveniruy in June, "Leit "for good, I mean. He ha** gone to St. Louis uilqw to live is practicing law there with an. it-,» old friend of his." Ho watched Nina's faee while he stated this fUct, Ho had felt a latent jealousy of Durant and hall «•(& blamed him for Nina's appreciation ol himself. But Nina's nerves were under good contiol hor fs«.ce expressed only conventional surpriso, and nho ovinced justfhe conventional amount of interest in tho subject and no more. Fred felt AV.jty relieved, and during the evening found courage to try his fate—and lost. It was not kind, it was not gentlemanly, in him to say what he did then, and Nina's dark'eyes flashed as sho spoke hor answer to his insinuation.

You are sadly mistaken iu your bo- -fr -*t lief, Mr. Stone. If I had never seen Mr. Duiant your answer would havo boen just what it ha3 been. You, and you alone are to blamo for this I nave tried to save you from this I regret excoed -. *,**•' ingly that this conversation has occur- *». red and now, with your permission we will change the subject."

Fred Stone went homo that night a "wiser and a sadder and iii hor own room Nina bowed hor lier.il on her clasp- ,t. ed hands, and moaned, "Oh, Eugone, A Eugene!"

Five years went by. Seated at her windowono morning. Nitia caw a familiar form approach the house. Her heart beat fast when she took tho card tho servant brought her, and road the -iirf name, E. M. Durani*'' She hesitated a 4 moment at the parlor door, giving herself a mental scolding and then wont in quietly—soquietly that ho did not perceive her

ceive her cntrano* until she stood beside him. He was looking at a picture of Louise Wallace that hung on the mantel and his face was very grave. It lighted up, with his old smile when Nina spoke and he seemed glad to moot her again. ha a in a an friendly way, talking^ of the changes these years had brought, and then Etigene's grave expression came. He look ed again at tbe picture over tho mantel. He spoke al ruptly: ^.

Miss Nina, do you remember telling me once that I was leading a 'brute's life.' I've quit it." Nina looked up, but ,s. her eyes fell when they met his. Hr,4? continued in a low voice. fe

Do you "remember the message you 5 gave me, standing by her grave? liy xl's grace it saved me. Your word* made me think what a worthless wretch I was—how utterly hopeless and ruined my life was. I was dosperate. Then her message came,ind I resolved, with Oou a help, to obey it. You had shown me tbe law she sent tho gospel message. He walked io tho mantel nnd gazed earnestlv at thb pure fa«*e in the little frame. *44My guardian ang^l, he whispered saftly.

f#:

441

tJianlr 1 rnn li&if

OQJO! IOTVY

Mna

crying silently. Eugeiw turned ami leant over bcr. She tried to restrain her sobs, but in vain. "Nina, do not cry so, darling." And tfieH she was folded in

hi* anna. "Nina. I'veloved you so long. Will you be my wife?" She murmured something b* caught Louise's name and said gravely: "She Is a saint In Hca\cn 1 think, of

I'oyou man

She bowed her

head. TTien if you lovo me will you not tell me go?"

if vn l/kVn

She looked up, met his clear, true,lovnd silently laid her band in that at last her long trial wa»» ears

ttmt after weary

years of

EmbuhlasticPedestrfan—44Am I ootbo||

1 arag om» ww right road to Stratford h'hakspoare .STSbould Ujwn., /™U": ou he.' *:r