Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 7, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 14 August 1875 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE I%OPLE.

MAN AND WOMAN.' "WOMAN. [By a Poet.)

UN HOPS.-'

To see, though weary yean may Intervene "K foncl heart by her, and herself its qneen. And b« a# faittjfnl as tho best have been. ..HBTOY. """"^To soothe his cares and soften his distresses

To think his kiss the sweetest of Impresses To know that ahe alone shares his

HEK AIM.

M¥O story in the oomfort that shtfttfves him To feel that he believes as she believes him And even be as ever she recelveshlm.

USB CBflSB.

an To

hU Buffering lrora bis heart or share

ir? it, :t, uKnO. mately la her loving breast to bear it

To shirk no danger for his sake, bat dare it. HERCHOWH, To hear the mnslc of their children laughter, And when Death's wing to hlgheupheres shall waft her, rTe dwell together in a sweet hereafter.

MAN.

fBy a Poet's Wife.]

1118 HOPE.

.„ To And a maiden beautiful and sprightly, ^Wbo, hu thinks, may be trained to sit np ... tilghtly

Until he from his club returns un*Ightly.

HIS JOY.

uJTO find her think of nothlngelsebtotklsslng, v., And be all silent when himself Is hissing Because one button from his shirt Is missing.

Zs HIS AIM. To make her first few married months all gladness *-Then introduce some scalding drops of sadnecui,

And blot oat all her good and blase her bad..'I* Vt*

HIS cnoss.

To tell his chums about his home dissen-*-'4 slons, 4i And speak of things no honest husband .# mentions,

And maybe trim the story with Inventions. •fcftj nia

CROWS.

To make his treatment of her dally coarser, And by his acts to desperation force her: Then Anally—when sick of her--dlvorco her!

BEFORE I DIE. BY MARY HARTWKLL,

(Author of "a Woman in Armor.-)

CHAPTER X. f'?

'TV," I XT TUB COP AND THE LIP. The noxt day was day of consummation and of joy. During the morning hours the sculptor might be s^en, with his red working-gown knotted on one hip and his hair tumbled, walking around and around his Psyche,' like Home slow-sailing hawk meditating descent on a tendor chicken. No work is well done which is finished hastily. Barnhardt had given days and days to finishing his study. There was no alteration to be made. He could not touch a spot which he would alter. She was Psyche. Her soul was made and ready to enter into its marble body.'

Any man who llnds room and time in this world whorein to stand still and ^congratulate himself on the possession of any joy or the success of any endoavor, let him stand and congratulate blm/self with all his might, for the moment "and the occasion escape him qnickly.

Let him not wait till to-morrow to say «"l love" or '4 rejoloe" or "I have creaated." Everything pertaining to this earth—even its satellite, the moon—is full and perfect only for a day or a night. '•Gather ve roses while ye may," and drink ye'gladness while you may.

The King took his cup In his hand and the wine was almost on his Up when »the call to the hunt resounded. So he put the cup aside, and went to the Jront and was killed. There's many a slip bej *twlxttbe cup and the lip.

Jacquellno, as highly roused as her master, left her own clay, and took her stand in front of tho finished Psyche. How beautiful it was! The tears bundled her eyes while she looked ft it. Its sorrow, its appeal, Its helpless beauty, cast the trance of its own silence over a ^beholder. There seemed but one rea.^son why it did not cry aloud, and that reason was its utter hopelessness. Jacqueline called this Psycho It, as wo ^"^speak of a plaster Image of God's mak-

Ing as It, because we scarcely know how to apply our prououns to creatures in profound repose.

While still describing elrefes around his thought's centre, the sculptor was called off and forced to make a tangent, to welcome a party of gentlemen who appeared at his door.

He gave both his hands and a hearty greeting to eveiy one of them. They grouped themselves around him, each making inquiries or remarks in accordance with his own calling.

You'vo been keeping yourself oloss

im these months past," said the Society v-" I-Poet. '"South wind finds you on the Vi 8 beech and by the springs no more/ Ac. -,» Going to stay in town all summer?"

Whewtl" wbiatled the reporter, taking off his straw hat and iknnlng vigforously. "Whata day! How can you stand these sun-baked walls, Mr. Barn»

*hardt?"

-tit: How to that great statue of yours mnnrriMilnirT" inquired the Art Cri"

^It ls finished,*' replied Barnhardk turning toward it "I finished it this morning." __ ii They surrounded I^ycbe. Tho presKions which she drew out on their ftioes were variotis and amusing. The

Painter opened his m*uth and shot ono eye to look at her. The Society Poet Axod a glance at once tender and critical on this marvelous at was fesdnated, the opinions of his frtegns. .«

on this marvelous woman. The Report* bot on the al«i for

"i* |i

a-h r» breathed the Ait Critio

again, slowly, seanntng every outline of the work with cautious eye. "It—is— rmlh—well-lt~n»llvfcs^liqrehe! It's a lovely thing—a touching

thing!" it in marble whip-

Are you going to

youraelfr' inquired the

out his note-book.

res—that is, as Car as I can," refilled

Bernhardt, witk meuUl rea«nratloM

concerning the power of this trembling arm. "I bavo fbuod a very good marble cutter—an Italian—lately, and I shall ,set him to do the rougher part of it but

I hope to finish It up myself.*1' fhope!" While he spoke the null3* soal exilement of the occasion and the redoubled strain of resolution within him seemed to chok® him. There was a rotrinir In his ear*. He walked some 4 steos irom the critic of bis work, and their words beoamo ind^n« tohim

But what were their words after ait to y' shim or to his Psyxsbe, be they flood or

.m!bsdt

She was sore of lover In bim. He bad dore his The Painter made a tube of his fist and ttoupni forward to g**e. The Ait CrlUe—as lion—took the centre of the -group the Reporter, keeping an eager

ear and pencil, near him knd.the Poet Ml Into a pensive attitude, dhrldUw his attention between he P»yd» child-eculptor, who stood like guard behind it. ....

It gives me plessure," remarked the

in art. Our people are generous, and to a degree cultured, and would become ardent patrons of a really worthy American school of sculpture. But the lew sculptors we have clamor and contest for public commissions, or set up as mere copyists of foreign works. Ton have made a departure In the right direction, Barnhardt, and I congratulate you on your success. It's a fine piece I "WKSSNSJ- toward Barnhardt, ready to press his h«n4 with greater enthusiasm than art critics usually yield to but Barnhardt—with his shoulder toward his group of friendsmade no gesture in return his hands were clutched inside his collar, and gurgling sound startled the attention of ill from Psyche to Psyche's msater.

The sculptor's ward, terrified by bis livid lace, ran toward him utterin but before sheootild reach him befe to the floor, and his mouth poured out a stream of blood.

His friends lifted bim up and looked aronnd them in confusion—f6w people are eaual to emergencies involving hu._.n life. "Call a doctor!" suggested the jourambling 1

man nalist, lending bis trembling hand to the load.

Yes, call a doctorl" echoed Poet and Painter In a breath while the Art Critic, as helplessly paralyzed as any of them, bellowed all the more loudly— "Call a doctor, one of you—quick!"

With this single injunction filling her ears Jacqueline flew down stairs, and bursting in on the Chattertons, threw herself down at young Chatterton's feet.

The youth dropped the quill with hicbhe was pushing vigorous para-

—Jg

graphs upon tho public, and his sister started from her desk to run to JacquelA doctor!" gasped Jacqueline. "Mr. Charlie is dying!—blood's all running out of his mouth!"

ine.

Like a group of sparks on which a hammer descends, the three young beings flew at once in different directions.

By the time Cbatterton returned with medical help the patient was in his own room and partly revived. Chatterton's sister, finding nothing else to do, was covering Jacqueline's ears from the sculptor's painfol breathing, while Jacqueline leaned in a heart-broken fashion upon her lap. Barnhardt's friends lingered in his bed •chamber or the saloon. Between the doctor's labors they lie Id quick consultations with him, land did a great deal of tiptoeing up and down stairs.

Just as if they owned Mr. Charlie!" cried Jacqueline in a fierce whisper, shaking a fist at their backs as she lifted her tumbled head from Mary Chatterton's lap, and felt that jealous psng which assails us when strangers kindly interfere between us and our sick or our dead. He's mine he isn't theirs!"

Whether he was anybody's except Beath's was the question of that moment. But it was soon answered satisfactorily.

That man has an iron will," murmured the doctor to the Art Critio in the hall, while Barnhardt rested white and exhausted on his pillows. "He'll live this time. But he has no lease of life at all—lungs partly gone, sir. Yet —mark my words—hell pull along some months more by the very force of his will. Understands himself. Helped my remedies by his own coolness and self-command."

The Art Critic and his friends nodded and talked gravely for some time in the corridor and departed quietly, after which a mild aftd white-capped woman appeared and took her place by Barnhardt's bedside and her instructions front the doctor.

Barnhardt lay in a trance like sleep. But the hours whioh passed him were Good Samaritans with healing for him in their hands.

When he opened his eyes—lying like a reborn creature to whom the past was blotted out and the future about to be revealed—he saw the pallor of early morning creeping in at the sides of his blinds, and getting flushed by the roey shade which covered one slender jet of gas. He existed in white, sweet oomfort. The air was cool and clear. A white-capped woman nodded near the gas, with an open watch, and vials and spoons upon tae tablo beside her.

But what was this shining otyectjust appearing above the counterpane He thought it was Jacqueline's hair, and put out his hand slowly bv stages of motion to touch it. Jacqueline turned her blue-eyed face Instantly toward him. She wji sitting on the floor with her hands clasped around her knees, and her temple resting against his bed.

Poor little one!" Barnhardt ibardt formed his lips to whisper. "Have you watched all nightr* Sha rose to her feet, afid slipping one arm under his bead, put her sorry little face close to bis.

Are you going to die?" she whisper Wle Not—just—yet," replied the sculptor trying to smile.

Yoi

ou mustn't die," pleaded Jacqueline, holding him about the neck. think." said the sculptor, articulating with dlftculty. "I had bettertake you—home soon. However, we'll so up the river—As soon as—I am a

We."

The arm under his head oontraeted Its muscles he kaew it was making a 0*. Jacqueline drew her breath hard and swiulowed several times. Love was

Mr nomes never can nave another. Barnhardt drew hta anus around her and held her still. He was a man without Ilea, a wandarer, a wreck lying at death's door. "She is a child, be IftW himself, bat there wss testacy in her love ™A nothing else in his experience had aflbrded him. He wanted her just so, and so he held her. What! this wild and varied and independent young life daring to come so doee to him under the very shadow of death when other men were forsaken he was bleated! It is a strange paradox in human life that failure and success go hand in hand. When w» are weakest we are strongest when we aredashed down angels lift us up when we are most discouraged we sie most loved. Every thrab orner firm little arms shot a strong current of joy through him.

Favche waited his hand in the raw daylight of his aindla, but Psyche herseir could never again be as much to him as this artnflal of eternal marble. His work was stopped and his lift ebbing bat in one of those, perfect trances of content which are rouchasfW only to those who know how to wnttte let time ripen for bim as

that It wa* not **A«gels ever lis Ight mi fklr," bot "This—my homo—my dear, dear homer And nuutj a time wss it

rung through his ears before the nurse and daylight ftrily awdke.

CHAPTER XI.

"This Is the hottest dajr.Iaver was basted in," bid Cbatterton, pausing on his threshold, with his afternoon mail in one hand and his straw bat in the other.

urm

glad that girl and the

sculptor got out of the city before it grew so sultry. See here! we have two returned manos^tsto-day/^

And they're 1

I hissis-

ter, examining them in dismay. "Now, Eddie, that's hardly lair! Besides, I didn't believe that Boston paper would snap at the very poor array of jokes you sent it and, according to prophecy, you ought to have that article back on your hands."

It is back on my bands," exclaimed Chatterton, sitting down and tearing open one of the two letters falling to his share "back in tbe shspe of a draft. 'Send us another lively sketch,' says the editor. Good. Yousnd I play seesaw, Paulie. When I have bad luek you have good, and vice verm. If you want to put a lip over those two rejected manuscripts that you hold like dead chickens, come here and put it up so I can kiss it."

The weather's too warm for endearments," frowned Paulie. "Besides, I .can't feel reconciled to any man in his

does Boston pay you, boy?" Ten dollars. And I dare say we shall need

Indeed we shall," exclaimed Mary, making great eyes. "How much do you suppose we h&ye in band

Don't know." Only seventy-five dollars!" "Only!—only seventy-five dollars! My dear sister, I saw a gentleman in the street just now who Would be rich with seventy-five dollars. He was occupied in draining the lees of beer-kegs into sn old tin-can for his refreshment. Only seventy-five dollars! Why, maybe we'll come to that pass when we shall think ourselves rich with seventy-five cents in hand."

And that's tbe pass we shall oome to after our quarter's rent is paid unless we strike a rich vein in publishers. And oh! Eddie, if it costs so much to live in summer what will it cost in winter!"

Don't fret," replied the boy. "We'll just have to scratch tbe faster. 'How dotb the little busy Q(uill) improve each shining hour and gather money every day from publishers in power!' Gum those effusions up in fresh wrappers and try elsewhere. When we get rich and famous we'll forget we ever had a manuscript rejected."

We have so much to learn, so much scope- to acquire, and we're so poorly equipped with books of reference—"

There are the public libraries don't growl," broke in tbe boy. I'm not growling, dear I'm only looking at all sides—"

Of a rejected manuscript!" Quit chaffing, Eddie, I feel sometimes as if we were just babes in this great world. What can we say which will charm that vast sore-headed bruin, the Public?"

There's a great comfort in saying one's sav, whether it charms or not," laughedTCbatterton, putting his hands on nis sister's shoulders, "we 'dared to

Eothitdeclaredtouch,'

ut to the you know. And we it was for love and not for lucre. We're in a dangerous spot just now. Necessity does poor work, Paulie, and hurries to turn it into money. Dut is a little bit nimbler and a little bi stricter but Love is a princely laborer. He does his best at every stroke snd sings accompaniment—he is his own unfailing paymaster. I tell you, Paulie, there are enough men and women working with thin fingers and starving eyes in the literary profession. We'll honor it more than to make a draught-beast of it. If literary work isn't large enough yet to carry us, we'll carry it I can turn honest pennies other ways. Where's the use of fretting just work and wait —work and w«dt! That's the way to do."

He lifted her and set her on his boottoes, snd she. putting h4r arms around his neck ana giving him a hearty squeeze, flamed up again like a phoenix girl.

They sat down on tho floor together, each with penoil and paper and a reporter's desk on the knees, to draft the outlines of fresh work.

Whenever you're hungry' there are bread and berries for you in the pan try," suggested Mary. "I'mnot hungry. I'm feverish with the day and with eagerness to do this paper well. Paulie, I wish I had com mand of terso. strong English Spenoer and Chaucer have done me more good than all the Latin books I ever swallowed. If I could butspproach mastery of my language! but half the time I fell in expression for the want of quick, strong words."

Read the book of Jonsh, then, and catch the trick of its construction," said Mary. "It's vigorous. 'The sea-wrought'

Cor

I, or any poor scribbler, would nder about and say, 'The storm swept down and ploughed the deep,1 jus. And this time in that book moves so naturally and majestically. When I want to shift my scenes I sit

„rTT_ is simply .— ed to another picture, 'And tbe word of the Lord oame to Jonah tbe second time How sharp and clear It Is! In thees four little chapters we find snob a

m«n

laid her on foe lightly luRVN VI vlf tmatli. "my

as not one writer In a thousand oould' evolv* from a two-deck romance. And the movement Is quick and dramatic. Jonah flies before tbe Lord snd to bound in the deep—where 'ail Thy waves and Thy billows pass over me he to walking through the mlghty dty, uttering tbe enr of a prophet he to ex-

want strong words look in that Old Book from which mother used to draw her best stories."

By some labyrinth of thought town only to himseif Cbatterton passed immediately from the Jonah to speaking °f«fmlS'that Utile girl, dont yoo, Paalic jMislud such oretfv ways of dashing I while ahe her apron, and then dashing ofl eagerly to ber modeling. I «haU forget her as she Ml down bef the

off again so

before me

had that bemorrb-

day the. sculptor I

^BsbyreareLmed his slUer, turning to look at him with some astonishment st his mood. "Why, she's only two or three years younger than we are r*

Bat titers wss something ehoirt her that mads me want to kiss her, said Cbatterton seriously* I Uke to have her oome in

her to

like to meet ber.

sculptor learning of him! She's very different from us. 1've misesd bar all week but I'm gtad she's •'ray on the river. When we get rich, Paulie,

we'll have a summer place on the river." We cant bny it this summer," murmured Psulle, pencilling rapidly.

Whieh was such a seir-svident trnth that It brought Chatteiton atrafeht down to tbe white plane jof wade heme him, sad alter a few minutee the seal of creating flushing him sgaln snd he gave himself up to his paper.

Hour by hoar the two young ssplrenta Taw"

quill-box, or to plead for -pssuge at some cloMd toll-gate of a mixed idea. But esch kept fhkhfhlly to the road until daylight dessrted them, when Mary went to set out the evening meal ana Cbatterton walked restlessly about tbe

I'll bave a fling while I am in the humor," he laughed. "Moreover, it may suit that Boston paper's demands.".

He sat down on the window seat and scribbled In his scratch-book, while Mary spread the table with housewifely precision and housewifely pride—which girls with ink on their fingers piay still cherish—in tbe flakiness andappareut toothsomeness of a cold fruit shortcake of her own manufacture. Alight was made and a call to the evening meal given.

CHAPTER kn. HOLLOWFKBN.

South of shkill-on-Hudson, among the homes clustering st the foot of tbe Highlands, there is a bouse which never fails to attract the eye.

Built partly of Dutch brick and partly oftnodern rough stone, representing at once the life of two hundred yeart ago and tbe elegant conveniences of life to-day with many balconies, wide verandas, peaked windows with many attendant buildings snd a smothering luxuriance of trees'and flowers with lawn sloping toward the Hudson and the broad shine of that matchless river forever more at his feet, this house

and most deligh ever built unto himself. She had' lived iif it a week, and its mysteries snd glories were not half explored.'

In the early morning before anybody except-the servants stirred in tho house she now sat in the dew, half-way down the lawn her flannel dress could not be spoiled, and her warm young flesh loved the wet the sun was coming with sleepy glory over the mountains an island In the river glittered with every point of moisture which it held and purple haze—that fino wrapping which Nature keeps for her choice thingswas Just being rolled up and laid aside for the day.

Across the winding mountain road and quite in the river's edge was a boathouse, which Jacqueline knew contained two light, white boats, one gilded with the name of "Jack," the other gild ed with the name of "Jill." Her inns-, cular young arms bad much desired a tug at the oars of these boats, but nobody bad taught her rawiug, and Mrs. Hollowfern objected to her going out to try it alone, l'own and villa shone on the opposite side of the river: an early steamer from Albany went by sails shot into the bay tugs—like dlstraoted ducks taking a fleet of young shanghais out to swim—groaned and rushed up or down with lazy barges, low-masted schooners, and vast, lsrge rafts In tow. The maiestv of mountains was In front •f and oehlnd her all these sights, so familiar to river dwellers, were new life to her she breathed them in they never wearied ber eyes. "I oould come here for heaven,? she once whispered and so satisfactory were God's works to her here that she had little curiosity to lesm the names which man had given them.

That great cliff there might be "Storm King" and this other height "Cro'nest,' that island in the water named for a man with a history, and all tho "hllla" and rills and tiny tributaries which the Hudson graciously received from the mountains might be full of name snd story—the sight of tbetn which was afforded to her eyes were enough for ber.

She turned to look at the dignified old house, and it threw a shade over ber fece. It was a home for kings, hut Jacqueline, regarding it with tender awe, knew in ber heart that it was nota home for her.

She recalled her coming to it on a hot afternoon preceding another summer storm, when the sculptor's white fece on the opposite side of tho carriage frightened her. She recalled tbelr rapturous reception by a blonde, pretty, blue-eyed matron, who was Barnhardt's senior by several years, yet looked like a younger sister of that broken, overworked man the Interest which the household of servants manifested in Mr. Charlie tbe polite scrutiny with which the pretty-blue-eyed lsdy regarded ber, and the disapproval of nor which she saw in that Isuy's fece.

She saw sgaln for tbe first time the blue, fair room which she had just stolen out of this morning, snd recalled how Its girlish glories had first delighted her when she was placed in possession of it. Again she beard tbe chambermaid volunteering ihe.informatlon that this wss "Miss Rosa's room. Miss Rosa wss Mrs. Hollow fern's daughter, and she died three years ago, miss and I heard Mrs. Hollowfern say Mr. Charlie was going to bring a young girl bMre, andT she hoped you would like Miss Rosa, miss, some of her dresses bang in that wardrobe, miss," continued tbe chambermaid "and a very pretty young lady aba was, with hair and eyes much tbe color of yours. She wss very forward with her music and all her accomplishments, and just seventeen."

Just seventeen thesgeof Jacqueline herself, for she had pasaed a birthday during ber sqtoura with Barnhardt. Many a time In the psst week bad Jacqueline opened the ease containing garments onos worn by the girl now dead and looked at them and thought of ber. Tbe dromes were fine snd made into graoefUl tsshiona. Their tints were such tints as would suit the fresh color of a girl. They also had some individuality one, she bow gave the little lace-frilled sleeve.

How happy must have been this girl whom they call Miss Rosa! thought tlio waif of the circus. From her very birth she wss loved and was at home. She passed her days learning of gentle-mao-nered teachers

every

ences between this higher bred girl and bereelf the deeper beoame her oonvictlon that she wss not born to be another Rosa Hollowfern. imybst succession to Hosa HollowfenrS home and position in ths world waa not for bar.

Tho mist mm of HoUowMn, perhaps, had th* Same conviction. She baa mourned her beautifal daughter with all the passionate sorrow her nature oould endure, and after time somewhat spothsd her had sought about her with womanly instinct for some uncared for being on whom to lavish her abundant mother-care. She lived a luxurious but

ng only

mediste family. Her husband's affeirs kept him much in town, so it was not strange that she should want to hear the great mansion of Hollowfern resound with sone young voice, snd that she esgerly urged Barnhardt to bring his ward there, in hopes that she might find an adopted child! the stray.

Mrs. Hollowfern was entirely conventional. There was wild blood in Jacqueline. Men sometimes see with astonishment the spectacle of two charming and—to them—entirely lovable and apparently accordant women set over against escb other in antagonism. But Barnhardt had little opportunity to detect any latent antagonism between bis sister and his ward during the first week after his arrival for he was able to be seen only at intervals and his sister was so devoted to him as quite to leave Jacqueline to herself Yet the antagonism existed,'and Jacqueline, whose occupation was now gone, or rather left behind her, wandered about the house and grounds at ber own .will, making frieuds with the servants with her usual childish manner and Bohemian good fellowship, and rising early to sit in the dewoit the lawn.

She was a happy-natured girl, and during this morning hour the present was sll-sufflcient to her. She saw a thousand sights which suggested new and better studies than she had ever yet attempted for tor plan of life always wss the life of ait with Barnhardt In New York. After a brief sojourn in this

lovely place he would grow well again, tney wo pected that knew nothing of his

and

sy would, return,

She never susman. She He was

led that he was a

fond and uncomplaining, and control himself even before the little ward who bad lived with him at his work. As his strength now returned day by day, and became down-stairs more frequently, and*as daily reports from the stone cutter engaged on the rougher part of his statue made him more and more restless to return to it, the firmer grew her bones of resuming labor with him. A girl skilled in worldly prudence would have seen it was to ber advantage to remain at Hollowfern the romantic young ladv of seventeen would have been thinking of lovers and marriage. But Jacqueline's was an exceptional and eclectic nature. She had made her choice of life and friend the present was always tall she took no thought of the future nor of advantages which she hsd not been trained either to appreciate or require. Therefore, sitting in the dew of the morning and watoning the sun rise over Hollowfern and over all the earth, ahe was a happy girl without care,

The inmates of Hollowfern breakfast ed at nine o'clock, so Jacqueline lived a quarter of a day, and what the Irish call the "topo' the morning," before bells indoors recalled her.

Barnhardt.was coming slowly dow.n the great stairs just as she sprang like a lark from tbe wet lawn to answer the breakfast summous. He wore a fresh dressing-gown of his favorite crimson, John had attended on him, and now walked at his heels, solicitous and solemn. John was perhaps the most respectable black mau that America—so noted for black men—has ever produoed. He bad lived at Hollowfern since his south, and felt himself quite tbe master of proprieties iu that house.

Good morning, Mr. *Charlie!" cried Jscqueline, eagerly, as she crossed tbe front threshold, "Ob, yoo look so much better to-day."

I hope I shall be equal to going back to the studio In a day or two," Barnhardt, stopping to take tbe cool, dewy bands she offered bim. "Good morning to you, little one. .What bave you been doing?"

Watching the world. It's so beau tiful." If you will step this way a moment, miss," volunteered tbe correct John, "Maria will brush your dress before you go in to breakfast."

With some awe of tbe break fast-room chairs Jacqueline stepped in the direction indicated, snd Maria, summoned by the master of properties, began to brush and rubber dew-soaked flannel.

Barnhardt found his sister already seated at tbe table. She stretched out a plump band and laid it over his, while sbe searched his face with brightening eves.

I believe the mountain air is really healing you. dear." It to comfort here with you as well as the mountain air that to healing me, Louise, my dear, But it won't Isst. I mint get Deck to my work as early as next week. You know rest very soon becomes unrest with me." "Ob, not so soon as that, brother. I have scarcely had a glimpse of yeu "And tbe glimpse you have bad has been anything butendearfng. I'm only fit to get hack to my work and finish it, if possible. I'm past exerting myself to be agreeable it»a well-regulated fcmlly. I bops, Loo, you'll not remember thia *last appearance* of mine sgainst me. Take me at my best,' do."

Mis. Hollowfern's eyes filled with tsars. She wsaa woman in whom tender Sentiment held sway who chertehof mementoes and

ed museums :mta little burylng-ground in her senslbiAty. HOT daughter's death opened the first grave (for ber life had been made smoother than ber brother1** but now that tbe sod wss turned she never lost a chance of mottralng in anUdpation all the funerals whioh time Would briqg ber "I wish, Charlie, you wouldn't talkas if'—with a little sob—"ss if yoo were going to die so soon going to a\

grave (for

There.

brestn she drew

wss a refining breath? born of good blood, raltured by the dally sot of living, a princess inheriting and gracing her domain. How glorious were ber seventeen years compared to tbe seventeen years Jacqueline had* spent Upon the earth!

There wss a picture of Mtos Rosa hanging in tbe Hollowfern libtmry and whenever Jacqueline was In the boose snd felt herself unobserved she went to look at this* picture. How arch and beautiful tbe expression wss and how graceful the half-turned head Tbe circus gvpsy, who had been picked np bjr Mr. Bamhanit, saade hetself maater of this higher bred girl's nature, and the mors she meditated upon the differ

dont Loo, dear," interrupted with an indulgent laua ofit, tbougt

Barnhardt

"I'm used to thinking

never speak of it except to you. I'

measured myself and know just bow fer I can last. It's only the part of a to ask on

doing lowfern return Ifst evening "So. He comes upon Saturday evenings," replied Mra. Hollowfern,

(e comes upon replied Mrs.

wiping tbe fringes of ber eyes and touchlog the bell for John, who at onoe marshalled in the breakfast and the damsel, who served it with the air of a pompous cat training a rat to domestic service. "Where's your little friend, Charlie?"

Had Barnhardt been a woman the tone of his sister's inquiry would have been auggestive to him. But being a man he I nothing save kid

Mrs.

of disapproval

in it, or of aught save kindliness toward "his little friend." Jscqueline She came In off the fawn a moment ago and went to Maria to jwt her dress bfushsd."

HoUowfern's forehead betrayed

annoyance.

I think every day—but the weather

ised garments. That suit she wears is utely shocking." "What, her blue dress?" laughed Barnharut.

Mrs. Hollowfern poured the coffee. "A girl of her years," sbe continued, "ought to have some sense of fitness and propriety. She appeal* to haive none. Rosa was so delicate in of personal propriety." «iw mg osnt expect. some energy, "that a chad! with faoqueline'a record would compare favorably with a girl of Rosa's breeding and sdvantagea.

Child !'r murmured Mrs. Hollowfern "she's almost a woman in years, and, though without culture, it does not necessarily follow thst sbe. oould bave no regard for the decencies of appearance. I must drive over to my dressmaker's soon and have something done for her."

I guess you wont." whispered Jacqueline, atanding with clenched bands outside tbe room where this conversation concerning, herself had transfixed her. "I won't be dressed in charity olothes!" standlug stiff and tall, ana making her resolution with no less strength because she mada it under her' breath.

But although her first emotion naturally was resentment, the truth in Mrs. HoUowfern's remarks did not tail to striko her.

Sbe meditated upon it during her liet breakfest, and going immediately to ber blue room after the tablo group bpoke up she sat down upon the forget-me-nots which had ouco been trodden by Rosa Hollowfern's toot, and looked at herself in the long glass.

I never thought it was shocking," murmured Jacqueline, straightening the folds of her blue drees, though I have thought It was too warm. You see," she said, apologising to tho imaginary presence of Mrs. Hollowfern, "I was so happy and so busy there with Mr. Charfle, and so glad to get the circus tinsel off, that I forgot to think about myself. I should like to bavfe new dresses—something soft and white and cool to wear. I believe I have thought of them a great many times, but never thought them out. "As she says, I am old enough to look like a woman, though I love to feel like a child. I will try to look like a woman and to think about my appearance. She is a lady, and knows uettor than I do what I ought to do. 't The girl who wore the pretty drosses in the wardrobe never sat and thought, as I am sitting and thinking. Some* people's lives are lust like gardens on the earth as it used to be before It got quite made—ftill of big growths that nave to be smashed ana slaughtered to make way for other growth, so that ohango and shook were continual. "I'veenough mouey left in my belt to buy and pay the dressmakor for sew-. Ing some pretty olotbes. Yes, I am old enough to tbinlc of how I look. I should like to.look beautiful. "There was a young lady whom I saw coming up the river on the boat who bad hair IIKO mine, and she wore it so it looked like beaten sunshine. I wonder If I oould orinkle and wind and putf my hair that way It went so," continued Jacqueline, gathering her lo.cks off her neck, and fixing eager eyes on the glass while she attempted the mysteries of coiffure. i,

Outside, the sky, like a vast, warmbrqpsted blue-bird, brooded that curious egg, tbe osrtb.

Bernhardt walked slowly under the trees, wstchlng the grass twinkle in tho wind snd the far-reaching slilno of tho river.- The slow and healthy flow of pastoral life set through his veins and oooled tnelr fever. But no man can change tbe habit of bis life and thought after this is onoe fully formed. Even the sweet stagnation of a summer day oould not withhold Barbard't disabled body from its ceaseless activity.

It bocame his custom to walk up and down under tbe trees of Hollowfern. day after day. with his fece set toward that city which held his incoinplelo endeavor. [TO BB CONTINUED.]

A KENTUCKY BRIDAL TOUR. Tbe Louisville Courier-Journal tells tbe following: There came one day to a little inland town in Kentucky, a young rural couple who had just been bound by the "silken bonds." Their destination was tbe depot, and tbe bridegroom was evidently quite impatient for fear tbe train should arrive before be could reach the office. Buying one ticket, they stood on the platform until the train bad stopped. When they entered tbe car, the bridegroam found

and commenced whittling most vigorously. He watched the train out of sight, regret depicted on bia face, when a bystander, thinking tbe whole proceeding rather strange, resolved to Interview bim. Approaching him carelessly, and obewing a straw to keep up his courage, be said:

Been gettto' married lately?" Yes," said be "me and Sallio got •ptloed this mornin'." "Was that her you put on tbe train?" "Yes." witli aslgb.

A likely lookiir gal," said our questioner. "Anybody nek, that she had to go away "No bat here he grew confidential. "You see me and Sal lie had heard that everybody when tbey got married took a bindal tour. So I told Sallie I hadn't money enough for both of us to go, but ahe shouldn't be knocked out of hern. Sol Jist brought her down here, bought her a ticket and sent heron a visit to some of her folks, and thought I might get some week harvestin' till she got back." An "audible smile" went around among those who were standing near, but our friend wss too much absorbed in remembrances of Sallie to be oonseions of it. That afternoon found him busily at work, and when In a day or two after "Sallie" came back, be welcomed her cordially and affectionately, and band in hand they started down tho dusty road to tbelr new home and duties, fer bappi-. er, perhaps, than those wbo start out with more pomp and parade.

IT is related of Mr. Beecber that ho once so fesdnsted a young man by bis. patriotic appeals that tbe ill-starred* youtb enlisted, went to the war and waft killed. Then Mr. Beecber visited thodeeessed's mother, declared he was thoassassin of her boy, and went on so that* instead of his comforting her, sho hadi to "torn lu" and comfort him. There* was also Mother young man upon whom, a distinguished clergyman bad such an, influence that be crow discontented with his home, went west, and was hung for stealing a male. Then the distinguished clergyman sought out this young man's mother for tbe purpose of binding up her wounded heart but as soon aa he crossed her threshold, sbe seised him, threw bim down snd mopped hiu%? around the floor until there wss scarcely aoy breath left 1n bis body. Such 1* the diffeienoe in women.—[Brooklyn Argus.