Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 24, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 14 December 1878 — Page 2

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1J£RKE BAUTK, DEC. 14, 1878

SOMEHOW OR OTHER.

Life has a burden for every ma I"* shoulder. Borne may escape from Us trouble anu care: Miss It in youth aad 'twill come when we re older, *«d fit. q» na close aa the garments we wtnr. Sorrow comes Into our life uninvited,

Robbing oat heart* of their treasures of

Xovers grow cold and friendships are slighted. Yet somehow or other we worry along. Every day toll Is an every day blessing,

Though poverty's oottage and crust we may share, Weak th» bock ©n which burdens are

But stout ia the heart that la strengthened by prayer. Bomehow or other the pathway grows brighter'

Just when we mourn there were none to befriend Hope in the heart make) the burden seem lighter,

And SOM. enow or other we get to the end.

W

Strength for to-day Is ulI that we need, As there will never be to-morrow For to-morrow will pro but another today.

With Its measure of Joy and sorrow,

Then why forecast the trial of life With such sad and grave persistence. And watch and wait for a crowd of ills

That as yet have no exMeuee.

Peterson's Magazine.

MEG'S LOVE.

BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.

She finished her letter, thus: "There is a great deal of company in the house, and every body is very grand and Ray. Dear Val, I hope you won't think me a disgrace to 3*ou, wlipn conIteas that, sometimes, when I bear them laughing and enjoying themselves in 'the drawing room below me, I cannot help wishing that I was grand and gay too- and ©ceasionallv even feel a little savage about it—not, however, beoause they are rich, so much as because I am not. Won't it be nice, Yal, when you get that •raise,' and I can come to Paris to you, and we can live together in one of those tiny suites of "apartments, which ara like the compartments in a •work box. I am sure you would not caro how small the compartments were, 80 that your housekeeper was

Your own Affectionate MEG." There was a Coating mist in the flow ex like blue Qf Me^'s eyes, as she closed her onvelope, and secured it with an unnecessary little thump of her small fist. 'Because,' she whispered unsteadily, 'there never was a brother worth half of "Val, and I can't help feeling a bit homesick for him, particularly when those peoplo down stairs make so. much hilarious fuss. It ia the queerest thing, that laughing, and singing, and dancing should have such a strange, melancholy sound, just because they they have to float up a pair of stairs. It is as if all the fun died on the way, and there was nothing lelt but the sound, without the least atom of moaning.' Supporting ber pretty, round chin on the hullcw of her paling her elbow on the table, she sat still for a minute, and listened. Some one was singing now, some ono with a delightful, masculine voice full of music.

My love is like the ml. red rose, That's freshly sprung in June My love is lileo the melody,

That's sweetly played In tuue." Aud more of like effect, with a great deal of tenderness and spirit. 'Ah,' said Meg, softly, as in meditation, 'that is Captain Biddulph.'

Almost directly, however, the closing of the drawing room door shut off Captain Biddulph, and his song too and with a half impatient sigh, Meg rosp, 'Never mind,'she said. 'I shall have fcitno to slip out, and take Val's letter to tho village beiore the children's dinner. The walk will do mo good me, too.'

Just ten minutes afterwards, Captain JBlddulph, who had a moment before soated himself ou a lounge near a window, for the purpose of entertaining three nephews of tender age, but sanguinary taste, with a story of a 'man eater,' suddenly paused at the very outset of the thrilling recital, with the remark •Look herel Supposo we go out, and tell It, It will sound over so much worse out of doors."

There was no hesitation in swallowing the bait. Six voices—three neices having joined the chorus—vociferated ecstatic delight at once. •Yes, yea, Lot as! And then you can show how it roared—and everything.'

Biddulph got up. •Come along/ he sal J, unceremoniously, taking loug strides across tho room, aa if there was not a moment to lose. And thus, followed by his adoring juvenile rabble, be took his departure.

It was rather base, the manner in which he turned upon the affectionate mob, when he got them out of doors but perhaps it could not be helped. •I say he exclaimed. 'There is Miss Langd'itle on her way to the village. Suppose we go with her. And not regarding In the least the cries of 'Ah, but the tiger, uncle Erio—the tiger,' he followed the slim, black figure, without more ado.

It was not the easiest thing in the world to gain upon her light, springing steps, particularly with the six protecting at his beels bat be accomplished the matter so far as to get within hearing distance, and then, aa WM natural, Meg turned about, in some astonishmont, •Children!' she exclaimed to her pupils. 'Does Mrs. Mrs. Dalglieth know Uat you hare left the house? I am Afraid—' •Unolrt Eric—' began the chorus.

By this time Biddulph was at ber side, raising bis bat and looking down into ber face. 'She knows they are with me,' be said. •Don't mind tbem. They need exercise —and so do I.'

Meg ordered ber charges into line, and marshaled them before her, sedately. •If Mrs. Dalglieth knows,' sbe answered, 'of course it does not matter.' lie was an odd fellow, this fellow Biddulph, certainly. After all tbe treaeh• diplomacy be bad employed to gain this poor little interview, he scarcely spoke a dcten sentences, either on tbe way to the village or back again, bat stalked •long in a brooding kind of silence, only occasionally making a remark. In fact, upon tho whole, he bad tbe effect of rather depressing Meg's spirits. 'If be is as—as sulky as this always,' was ber secret thought, 'I would rather l»rc Val than ten of him.' And if It bad not been for the exuberant spirits of the uportivu six, who kept ber entirely

nloved. she would have found her walk loneliness and yearning for himself, be *. .«•!• i.wtnnH nnt forth miizhiier eUbrtf. and eco no­

a very neutral tinted affair. Indeed. Once, however, as they oeared horns, be did rouse himself insult? a i^nark*ble manner: and it w«H.iin ujnocfent question ol little Juclt Ialjg|lttth*§. wMch wax the means of spnolwiig blift. "W

Miss Laugdajt#,' sa^l Jaok, who was

rather a oonfid|pU»iJlrl*nd of hia pre-, pleasure and freedom.

ceptrww's. 'Ml*» LAngdale, was that lettor to Val •Yes, Jack,' "answered Meg, in pretty, soft voice. 'It was to Ydl,'

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Then Captain Blddulpfi 'routed: sell from his depth bf sillenc® fcn »U*ctiou. •Val!' he echoed. point blank question, isn't it, Jack? There is an .excellent moral axiom which remarks that "Boys should be seen but not—"'

Meg stopped him with a frank little smile.

But there he stopped, seeming to oheck himself with a violent effort. 'I beg pardon,' he ended. 'I am worse than Jack.' And looked so gloomy, forthwith, that Meg was quite perturbed and was glad of tbe excuse of gathering together the strays of her liock before entering the grounds.

The flock, however, had been stabbed in the most vulnerable" part of their am or, anil broke into vigorous protesta tioi'S ot discontent. •Ah!'they wailed, 'and we have not heard a word about the tiger—not a a word! And you brought us out on purpose to hear it, uncle Eric. And now we have to go in It'sjustasliame!' And Jack was goaded into adding, with true British vlgorousness of phrase, that the state of affairs was •Beastly.'

They had reached the gates, by this time. Biddulph stopped, and regarded the malcontents reflectively. •So it is, by Jove!' he remarked. 'And if Miss Langdale will let me come into the school room, after you have had your dinner, I will tell you that story, and another for interest—a fearful one, with a mad elephant iu it. I did use the story as a bait,' he added to Meg, with frank grimness. 'And it does seem too bad. A little like 'seething the kid in its mother's milk,' you kuow.'

Meg ran up stairs to her room, to lay aside her hat, and preparo for the nursery dinner.

A bait I'she said, touching up her soft, black hair. 'That was a queer word to use. A bait!'

And the faoe on the toilet glass looked back at her, with a bint of confused amazement, not entirely unmixed with shy pleasure.

This, however, was by no means tbe first time that Captain Biddulph had joined ber, in her walks. He had been in the house longer than any of the rest of tbe guests, and his position was naturally am »re established ono, being founded npnn the fact of his relationship. Two months before, he had arrived from Madras, with bag and baggage, and a native servant who had occasioned much alarm in the nursery. Ho was Mrs. Dalgleith's only brother, and being of an amiable and mendacious character, and not averse to tbe rel ition of tragic and diffuse histories of the most unreliable description, became, at once, an object of tumultuous admiration to the tender sex. In hor seclusion, in the third story, Meg heard much of him but for some days did not chance to see him. One morning, however, on going up stairs, Biddulph suddenly found himself looking up at a slim, young maiden, in an unadorned dress of black, made from some soft, close clinging, old-fashioned silk. It fell to her feet, and closed at her slender little throat and wrists with a prim, wb:te frill. Her hair was quite black, also, but her face was of llowerHke fairness, and her eyes reminded him of blue ronvolvulus in full bloom. She was feioiply afresh, innocent girl, of an unusually sweet type, but she affected him in a manner quite indescribable. She startled him into forgetting his good manners. He stopped upon bis step, and stared at her lor several seconds, as sho stood upon her's above him. It was her natural, surprised blush, which recalled him to himself, and caused him to pass ou, with a rather confused air, and the 'beg pardon,' which is so thoroughly English in its brusque politeness.

After that, it appeared that he gave himself up wholly to the wiles of his mob of young relations. He "allowed tbem to ensnare him into tbe nursery and school room, and to persuade him to accompany them in taelr walks. 'You are making those children positively unbearable, Erin,' said Mrs. Dalglieth. 'If Miss Langdale were not such a gentle, dear person, I am sure that she would object. You may rejoice that she is not a middle aged woman, with theo-

•I do,' replied Biddulph, quietly Meg did not object. She listened to tbe fearfully unreliable stories, when they were told in her presence, and even went so far as to laugh at them, though their Influence upon geographical and historical knowledge was scarcely orthodox, and rather tended to people all parts of India with Thugs, Sepoys, tigers of the •msnesfing' order, and a most exaggeratedly monstrous species boa constrictor. 8he did her best to keep ber flock in order, during these rambles, and succeeded very creditably, notwith standing tbe fact tbst their companion frequently found means to interest ber He was a good talker, and bad also lived an adventurous, emotional life. Sometimes, Meg discovered, during tbese strolls, that she was quite happy—happy in an entirely now way—so light heart ed, as she was sure she should be, when Val sent for ber to join bim in Paris, and play housekeeping In tbe tiny apartment. This, however, was not Invariably tbeone, af er tbe first month. After that time, tbe bright aspect of affairs changed a little. A number of visitors arrived, and tbe boose was gayer below stairs than above. Then, again. Biddulph began to have queer moods—lits of silence and abstraction, such as be gave way to on bis walk to tbe poetofBoe. Sometimes, In tbe midst or conversation, he would suddenly sink Into a giootn, not easy to account for, and wonderfully depressing to Meg. •Though, of course,' she decided, with much simplicity, 'it is no business of mine1. It is not as if be was Val. If be was Val, it would be a different matter, and I should never rest, until I found out what troubled bim.'

Occasionally, however, at this juncture, Val found ber letters not qaite so '41:* as was tbetr wont, and fancying root of the trouble lay In ber

TERR12 HAUTE HA URUAY E ENLN (x MAIL.

put forth mightier eitortf, g4jJ ei"ooo liaised still more sternly, In his hppt-# of training tbe S$d he bjM held in mew so

T*If jewerfgtogeuJ, she, *vou|jfbe BapptW,' lie^PBuld R*y. 'It tS8 ural that she should feel the

It was true that she ha^Niut few'enjoymentsin tho course of h«tr yoong ll!e. The two had been left desolate as children, and from seven to seventeen, Meg had known only the dart, existence, to be found in tho oheap" boarding school her poor little jaatrl-

Thatis rather a' mony would pay for. Val, who was five years her senior, had gone the treadmill round of a lrlendless boy's mercantile' exporlence, until a turn of good luck had carried him from a tall, dingy warehouse in London, to a brighter, if busier life in Paris. Up to that time, he had been wont to visit Meg in her prim retirement, and an occasional interview with her, lu the privacy of the stiff, soholastic parlor, when seated together upon the most unpleasant and slippery of borseyair sofas, they had rather sadly compared experiences and'partaken in some trepidation of various indigestible^ of acheap kind, supposed to give a festive character to the meeting.

4

,Val is my brother,' she said. 'And I often talk to Jack about him.' •Yes,' added Jack. 'And he loves ber she loves him. And he lives in Paris, works very hard but when be gets a raise he is going to send for her to live with him and keep houso, and they will have a little apartment, and go to tbe theatre together—' •Never mind, Jack,' said Meg. VVe must not trouble Captain Biddulph. Everybody cannot be expected to care aboui it as we do.' 'Care?' exclaimed Jack's extraordinary relative, turning and looking down into Mea's big, troubled eyes with most unnecessary warmth and fervor in his own. •Care? If you only knew how un avoidable it is that I should rare for everything and everybody connected—'

After Val's departure to foreign shores Meg, but for a certain patient simplicity which was ono of her sweetest character istios, would have sunk into the dopihs of despair but she had been so used to the neglects and uncomfortable tricks of fortune, that she was a very unexacting young maiden, Indeed. Consequently, after her first natural days of mourning in secret, she had proceeded to console herself to the best of her ability, and out of this effort had arisen her little dream of living as Val's housekeeper, at some fairy future, in the bright, always gay Paris, of which he wrote, he had become so desperately and reasonably enamored.

But thjs had not come to pass yet, and Val was quite a man, and she had finished her education, and taken her position as governess to five of the six rampant, even though well disposed, young Dalg lieths.

So, taking all these things into consideration, it is not to be wondered at, that, before she understood her danger, sbp had begun to enjoy the strolls, and un reliable stories, more than was ^uito safe, and to listen, with a perilous thrill of the heart, when the opened door be low allowed divers sentimental and well sung masculine ditties, to float up the staircase to her small, solitary room.

She did not understand herself, as I say, and this arose from the fact that, as far as emotions were concerned, she had lived the life of a young nun, cloister bred, and consequently was not an adept in tbe matter of sentimental analyzation.

And still less did she understand Biddulph. Since she found she must not measure him by Val, she could not measure him at'all, having no other standard, and could only wonder at, pity, and admire him, by turns.

And yet, she was so far affected by his moods, that when, in the afternoon, after their walk, he presented himselt with his peace offerings to ber pupils, he found her in rather a subdued frame of mind. Instead of sharing the general hilariousness, she sat apart and sewed and several times during the thrilling recitals which followed, the audience were roused to much impatient clam r, by-a sudden lull at some interesting climax, when the story teller was dis covered to be most unavoidably forget ting himself, and lapsing into abstracted silence, instead of attending to the catastroche on hand though, fortunately, tbe slim, black clad figure in the roomy, square backed chair, was not once BUS pected of being sufficient cause for this remissness. The fact was, however, that the stories were not upon this occasion, up to the usual high water mark of ex cellence and in consequence of this deficiency, the audience was more easily disposed of. 'Let's go and play storming of Del hi," said young Jack, at last, in some discontent. 'And we can pretend that uncle Eric is Nana Sahib.'

But Biddulph did not seem to bear thisiinal, interesting proposition 'Yes,' he said, absently. 'Goand storm Delhi, there's amiable youngsters. I used up, rather.

Then he left his chair, and went over to Meg stood by her for a few seconds without speaking. 'You think I am a sullen fellow,' he said, at length.

It was so sudden, and his voice had so odd and soft atone of repro4ch and appeal, that Meg's tender heart started violently. She lifted her face her Hps parted, her eyes troubled and half alarmed. She did not know what to say, even if he had given her time to say anything, which he did not. 'I am an unhappy fellow,' he added, in a stranger lone still. 'An unhappy fellow!' And he turned round, and strode out of th^toom.

Meg's work slipped from ber hands, and fell upon tbe floor. Wb&n she had stooped to pick it up, her eyes were wide ill and wet, and she felt that her chin quivered, in a helpless, chlldles* fashion. 'Obi' she whispered, 'and I am unhappy, tool I am unhappy, too—though ought not to be.'

Sae bad never eveu thought as much before, aDd having been atartled into a feeling, which forced ber to say as much, she had made a great step. She bad advanced to an indirect kind of con sciousne88.

I am unhappy, too,' she foand herself repeating, more than once, during ber restless hours, ihat night. *1 am unhappy, too—though I ought not to be.'

Perhaps, upon the whole, this very state of affairs prepared her a little for the event which happened tbe very next day.

In tbe course of tbe morning, a message was brought to tbe school room, requesting that the children should be sent down stairs: and this request bav ing been compiled with, after half an boar's absence, little Jack Dalglletb rushed in upon Meg, who sat in the bare solitude awaiting tbe return. He bore an expression of indignation and bewilderment commingled. •Look here. Miss Langdale,' be cried. •I say, uncle Eric's gone.'

Meg's heart seemed JkUesjp up and throb in ber throat. •Gone!' sbe echoed. •Yes,' in a staccato, which threatened to terminate Igoominously In tears. 'Gone! And that was why we were wanted down stairs—to—to say goodbye to him. Oh, look here. It's a—It's a beastly shame!' 'D—don't say ''beastly sbame," Jack,' filtered Meg. 'It's—it's improper.'

Sbe got op, feeling qaite unsteady upon ber feet. 'Waft a minute,' sbe •aid. 'HI be back directly. I—forgot something.'

And sbe fled precipitately to tbe shelter of her own room. When sbe retained after a rather prolonged stay, Mrs. Dalg lieth was in the room, consoling the wounded and bewailing six. 'It Is very sodden,' she mid, good natnredly, to Meg. 'And Captain Biddulph bas allowed tbem so many liberties, that tbey feel they bare aright to protest. Tbey don't understand the exigency of thecaae. Miss Marian Biddulph appsars

Ufnat- »'that waMf* ry n&Ui^itl Ho spoils them wa/it of in tbe' iJfriHt bawiffteed And shameful manner. P$rb«tf£«, on the whole, it laaa well mw.i'.'ph arrivw) in don beJore no haf time u» compass their moral destruction altogether. Having been a belle and a iwauty, it hardly

lo

to them a very insufficient reason otlVir for a pegUotof theuwetvea.' Meg tried to sutile. •They were |t»ry dfond pf hltn,' she •aid. •Oh! ye|tf' answer®! Mrs. Dilgllfetb,

H^anst.nrfifijlble that she will let him bfyfiti lig&n', when be bring# her here, AS his bride, to present her to us, in May. Wo have been'iTi formed that "she doe* not like children a all.'

There cbutd be no further mlsunder standing. Meg tfent through the regular morning routine as if she had been in some vague, desolate dream. When at last it was over, and the children lelt her alone, the tremor sbe had been struggling against became too strong for ber. The room seemed terribly eo»pty as sbe walked to the window aud stood

•Why frhould I care?' sho said. 'If it had been Val I bad lost I should have the right to be miserable but as it is—' And before she luily realized the* power of the feeling which had seized upon her, sho was so far overcome by it as to burst into a strange passion of tears.

It was a kindly chance by whicsh just at this juncture Fortune was reminded of ber existence. The mornings spent among books and ates, aud the long constitutional walks, became such flavorless affairs, and the laughter and gaiety In the parlors floated out and up the stair* with Rueh added dreariness of souud, sometimes, Meg felt that she could not bear the monotony of her fate rauch longer, and fortunately she was not called upon to do so.

Oue afternoon, without having received any previous warning, she was called down stairs to see a visitor. The visitor was a stalwart, delighted-looking young man, who opened his arms as soon as she entered the room. 'Meg I' he cried out, with jubilant, grand eloquence. 'Behold me! At last—at last!'

Meg ran at him with a little gasp of joy submitted to his ecstatic embrace ana, rather to his bewilderment, burst into tears again. 'Oh, Val!' she said. 'Good Val! Dear Val! Is it you

To his mental picture of their meetimr, Val had imagined her doing and saying ail manner of things, but he had never once thought of such a state of affairs as this, in which she seemed, somehow, unlike the Meg of his affectionate fancy, and actually cried instead of laughing.

He managed to disentangle himself from her so far as to admit of his regarding ber at half arm's length. 'Look at the girl!' he exclaimed. 'She's crying. Why, Meg, what does this mean? You don't "look jolly at all! You—I verily believe you are pale! And—is it possible you are thin No, 1 won't believe it of you

Then, very naturally, Meg's laughter dried her weak minded little gush of tears. 'Yoa ^ridiculous boy, she answered. 'It's b3caus3 I've grown. I am ever so much older—years and years old6r than I was when you went away, and of course I've grown.' 'Naturally,' replied Val. 'But then you havo no need to cry if you have grown.' 'Ob,' said Meg, with a superior air, 'that's nothing. I cried because I was so glad to see you,' and because—' rather teebly, 'I was so happy.'

She did not cry again, however, when he told ber tbe reason of his coming, which certainly was reason enough for being happier still. 'I have come for you,' he answered. 'They have given me tbe "raise," and you are to see Paris at last, Meg. I have even engaged the apartments—up four pair of stairs, and with more bright tin thiugs in the cuisine than the mind of man can jiossibly oonceive uses for. Also, a little waxed and shining salon, with red plush chairs, and a card table, and a mirror, and the most gorgeous gilt clock and candlesticks tbat high art could be accountable for. Wait until you see tbem!'

In threedays she did see them, afid In a week's time she had settled down so far as actually to realize that she herself—the Meg of so much past dreariness—was mistress of all these splendors. She could not have helped being happy, even if she had trieel, and she certainly did not try. B^ingof an unselfish and loving nature, she made a brave effort to subdue any little pangs of memory ahe might feel in secret, and was so bright and cheering a presence, and. so constantly grateful, that Val felt himselr rea'ily an individual to be envied. 'It is worth a man's while to try to please Meg,' he said, to his sworn friend and ally, a brisk little Amarican matron, and writer of spicy news letters.

4She

is always so delightful, and so willing to take things as tbey come.' Mrs. Harrowly, who was tbe typical American of a class—indefatigable in the matter of work, having wit, good nature and friends in abuudance—took an affectionate fancy to Meg at once She climbed up tbe four flights of stairs to bid her welcome before she had boen t^fo days in hep new home and having thus virtually adopted ber, never relaxed ber cheery kindness. Sbe gave her two boys into her charge as music pupils, and lent to their lessons the nature of delightrul family entertainment. Sbe petted Meg, introduoed ber to the people she herself liked best, and gave ber excellent advice, which was the result of her own experience, in the matter of small economies of housekeeping and dress. She was rather a bard-worked little woman, and by no mean a rich one, but sbe made the most of all possibilities of. exhilaration and amusement, and shared tbe result with ber friends generously.

It was quite natural tbat, sacb being tbe cise, sbe should not be entirely guiltless of concocting, in secret, occasional little plans for tbe furthering of ber pet protege's Interest. •Sbe is tbe kind of girl who ought to bave tbe happiest description of love story,' sbe said, with serious good nature to Vsl. A nice little romance, with tbe bloom on, and ending in tbe natural, sweet way. For Meg to remain unmarried, or to marry mistakeniv, would be the height of inconsistency.'

But though Meg became very popular Indeed, and was openly admired by tbe many young wlelders of pen and brash wbo frequented Mrs. Harrowly's bright salon, ber friend was just a little surprised to fiod her far from being as susceptible as she had hoped. Meg was always charming, always sweet tempered, always ready to make tbe best of everybody bat sbe showed not the slightest sign of a preference.

Which really «r a bit odd, considering tbat sbe is such a soft, kind little thing, and that they all like her so and pay ber sacb attention,' Mrs. Harrowlv commented mentally. 'There is Howard Ferris, for instance—if I was not married, and was young. I am sure I could be fond of Howard Ferris myself. And Phil Leslie admires her desperately— and little poem of Glyndo'n's about "the convolvulous blue of h^reyea? was

too lovely for anything, I am certain.' But there came a time when Mrs. Harrow ty compretfpuded all.

This, tiowovjir, was not anWl Meg had been with Vat quite JI y«ar, Hsd in fact become quite an old Parisian, knowing where t^buy things, and when to resist all fascinations, and how to avoid being imposed upon to an unlimited extent. *1 havo made, she *aid to Val one morning, 'the most ipvely dress you can imagine, to wear to Mrs. Harrowly's party to-night.'

Y£i area Worldly young person,' said V*! "Ami giv»tt opto tiringol the hair and adorning of the body. This is the third "moht lovely dress" I have been called upon to imagine thiB winter.'

Meg matin a little face, and shrugged her shoulders iu the most approved French style. 'It is blue,' she proceeded, turquoise blue, and it is soft, ttne Chinese crepe. And I have blue convolvulus for my hair.' 'E irtbly vanities of tbe most lowering description, said Val, lugubriously. 'A saddening spectacle Indeed.'

But when she came out of her room at night, all soft, lovely blue, from head to foot, even to her trim little shoes, It must be confessed that be was guilty of exhibiting something very like the unbecoming admiration of an unregenerate spirit. 'By Jove I' he said, walking round her. 'How blue it is, aud bow prettily it falls. Only—I say, Meg, isn't It rather—seems to me garments of that order used to stand out more.' 'Stand out more!' echoed Meg, in high disdain. '"Used." How degradingly like a man. Don't you know tbat a girl of any stylo whatever would sooner be dead than wear things that stood out now. It isn't the fashion at all. That style went out ages ago. Completely. Pooh!' with a fine wave of her hand. •Stand out!' ••Ab," said Val, reflectively. "That's it, is it? Well, at any rate, this has a very astonishing effect." And he tucked her. under his arm, and escorted her down the four flights, to the fiacre, which, for a consideration of one franc and a-half, was to convey them to the festive scene.

Mrs. Harrowly, wha bad a positive faculty for entertaining, stood near tbe door of her not too long salon, and received each guest with the kind of greeting be or sbe was sure to like best. Meg, she kissed warm-heartedly. "Go, and show yourself to the boys, I beg," she said. "I have actually been guilty of letting tUem remain in the room. Maurice already effects a blase air, and is criticizing toilette. He says he is sure you will be prettier tlsan any of the rest—and so you are," in a pleased whisper.

Accordingly, Meg reported herself to her pupils, who were fine and fearfully sharp infants, of ten to twelve years of age. •,Ab," commented Maurice, the elder. "I knew you would look like that— different from all the others, you know. I told mamma so. That dress looks as if it had been made out of a flower," with all the amiable audacity and candor of youth. "Thank you," said Meg.

Being unaffectedly partial to these innocents, she remained with them for some time, and allowed them to entertain her to the best of their by no means limited ability, until the appearance of their mother, who finally presented herself, in the best of spirits, as usual. "I came to tell you," she began, "that, to-night, I hope to present my English lion to yon." "A lion!" cried the younger infant. "A lion that roars, mamma? He would frighten the ladies."

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Mrs. Harrowly laughed. "He will roar you,"' she quoted. •"He will roar you as gently as any sucking dove?' For, big as he is, I vouch for his being the most amiable in the whole menagerie.' 'Mamma,' asked the more inexperienced Maurice, 'do you mean the big Englishman, with the red moustache?' 'It is not red,' laughing again. 'It is the exact shade Miss Bioughten chooses for her heroes. It is "tawny," whicfc I consider a very happy thought, And you area most objectionable boy, Maurice, to call it anything else.'

At this point, however, sbe was called away by the entrance of .a fresh arrival, and so Maurice was left to take up the thread of tbe conversation. 'He is very nice,' he said. 'We like him very much. He is an officer, and fought in the Indian mutiny. He told us about tbe Sikhs and Sepoys.' 'He was wounded three times,' cried Lewis, in triumphant appreciation of such exceptional good luck. 'He has a sabre cut on his wrist. Maurice! Maurice! There he comes!'

Naturally, Meg glanced towards the door. A tall man had just entered, and stood near Mrs. Harrowly, who was talking vivaciously. Tbe boys so far forgot their dignity as to break away, without ceremony, and rush towards the new comer. But as tbey did so, Mrs. Harrowly led him forward In the direction of Meg's corner. 'Captain Biddulph—' she begari.

The introduction was not completed. Mrs. Harrowly was surprised into breaking into an exclamation of pleasure. •Why,' she said,

4I

am sure yob know

each other.' •Ye%' answered Biddulph. 'We know each other.'

There was an almost desperate appeal in tbe look be gave Meg, as he held out bis hand to her. It was aa if be bad said, •pity me.' But Meg's smile, ab sbe extended her little kid glove, was so calm, tbat it surprised herself. •Wemetin Middlesex,' shesaid. 'Captain Biddulph is Mrs. Dalglieth's brother.'

What was said next, even Mrs. Harrowly scarcely knew, but being blessed with tbe most active of wits, sbe said something, which covered the hurt of diadomfort sbe herself felt at once. A few minutes she remained witb tbem, and was bright and voluble enough to support tbem under tbe first shock. Presently, however, she retired witb ease, and carried Us enfant* Urribles with* ber.

Then entaed a pause, In which Meg first looked lor a second or so. at tbe lilies of tbe valley, painted on tbe blue satin of ber fao and then lifted ber eves to Biddulpb. who was regarding ber with a look she knew too well. •May I sit down?' he asked, at length, in a low voice.

Sbe made room for bim, trving to smile again, but tbls time finding no reason to be surprised at her success, and so being betrayed into making a blundering little speech, which was more innocent tban sbe knew. •Mrs. Biddalph is not with yon?' she said.

He tamed to look ber fall in tbe eyes. 'There is no Mrs*JBiddulph,* be answered and so sat down.

It was of little ase to try to look serene sod profess to be only genteely interested. Sacb an attempt might bave succeedM under different circumstances, but tbe moment tbat Biddulpb seated himself at ber tide, Meg felt tbat sacb a course woald be a signal failure here.

'There is no Mrs. Biddalph,' be repoat'May I tell you wbyr

ed.

It was one of tbe fine features of- the case, that neither of them siw the odd side of it Would it was all over! At tbe time, there seemed tft pddity:'about It, at all—nothing but an almost tragic seriousness in their meeting thus, without a moment's warning, ahd entering at fence, as by instinct, into the subtleties ot each others moods, taking all things for granted as they came. Even agaim-t thisstartllngly unexpected question, it did not once occur to Meg to protest. Sbe only looked across the room at Val, talking to an* exuberant artist witb flowing locks,-"' and faltared lorth an absurd, palpitating little 'Yes.' And then heard him from beginning to end. 'it is because my engagement to my cousin was a ppor farce, which began in folly, and ended Iu repentance. It began when we were little more than children, and heaven only knows how it dragged on its lingering existence so long. I think we learned atiaat almost to hate each other. Do you remember tbat I told you fl wan an unhippjrf^llbv^? Well 4t was—truef~and &~was tme~ircause while I was bound to one woman I passionately loved another When I went to London, I went because I had made up my inlnd to speak the truth, like a man, instead of playing tho dallying coward longer. I knew what Marian Biddulph's feelings were, and she herself proved their nature. When we met, she had a story of her own. to toll, and she did not hesitate to tell it coolly enough. It was always her way to carry matters with a high band. Sbe had landed a priza whb suited her needs better than I did, and she told me so. I had been free all the time if I had only known It. That was my puniRhment. Aud that is why there is no Mrs. Biddulph with me to-night.'

Meg still kept her eyes fixed on Val, holding on to him asasortot safeguard. Biddulph went on, determinedly. •VVben I went back to the Dalglieth's,' he said, 'you were gone and Jack bad lost the address you J^d given him. Otherwise, I should have found you before.' 'I wrote once, and received no answer to r»y letter,' faltered Meg. 'And I meant to have written again, but—but— •It would have saved me a year's misery if you had,'he returned.

Then he looked across at Val himself. •Is that your brother ?'be asked. •Val,' she replied. 'Yes, that is Val.' He rose quite suddenly. •Will you introduce roe to bim?' She was beginning to answer when he stopped her with a quick, light gesture. 'Wait a minute,' he said, in an agitated voice, 'and think it over. It you say no I shall bid Mrs. Harrowly good night and go away and not trouble you any moro. If you say yea—'

He paused and waited. Meg caught her breath witb a soft little gasp. But the next minute sbe turned ber face upwards, bravely, looking like a young rose in bloom.* •Will you go?' be whispered. 'Yes,' she answered, and rose to her feet and laid a soft, impulsive baud lightly upon his arm.

Joy To The Aflliclel.

One of our most eminent American Chemists has discovered a process whereby Ueobtains, in a palatable form, all the active mepicinal properties of the East India Cinchona Bark, without disturbing the irritant and inert matter. In this preparation the alkaloids are in their native combinations, and the same proportions of the ingredients are maintained as exist in tno celebrated bark from the Neilgherry hills. This-prepa-ration is called CLIFFORD'S FEBRIFUGE, and is fast taking the place of Quinine and the so called Ague Cures, etc., in the market.

J. C. RICHARDSON, Prop'r,'

j-.

St. »ui9..1

For sale by all druggists. fG- it.

1 HE PEOPLE WANT PROOF. There is no medicine prescribed by physicians, or sold druggists, that carries sucn evidence of its success and superior virtues as Boschee's German Syrup for sovere Coughs, Colds settled on the breast, Consumption, or any disease of the Threat and Lungs.- A proof of that fact is that auy person afflicted, can get a sample I ottle for 10 cents and try its superior effect before buying the regular size for 75 cents. It bas lately boen introduced in this country from Germany, aud Its wonderful cures are astonishing evoryone that use it. Three doses will relieve any case. Try it.

For sale by Gulick & Berry and by Groves A Lowry.

r#

We Challenge the World. When we say we believe, we have evidence to prove that Shiloh's Consumption Cure is decidedly tho best Lung Medicine made, Inasmuch as it will cure a common or VJhronlc Cough in one half tbe time, and relieve Asthma, Bronchitis, Whooping Cough, Croup, and show more cases of Consumption cured than all others. It will cure where they tail, it is pleasant to take, harmless to tbe youngest child and we guarantee what we say. Price 10 cents, 50 cents and $1.00. If your Lungs are sore, Chest or Back lame, use Shiloh's Porous Plaster. Sold by Gulick do Berry. ^trr

Do You Believe ft.

Tbat in this town there are scores passing our store every day whose lives are made miserable by indigestion, Dyspepsia, Sour and distressed Stomach, Liver Complaint, Constipation, when for 75 cents, we will sell them Shiloh's Vitalizer, guaranteed Sold by Gulick A Berry

CLIFFORD'S

FEBRIFUGE

FEVERiMUE

ERADICATES ALL MALARIAL DISEASES ftramtfce SYSTEM. J. O. RICHARD8ON, Prop., nrftorSalebyAllPragglrts. BT.LCHJI3.

Sick Headache

Positively Cured by OimUtHi Pifti. Th«Talw relieve Distress from Wytjwp*1», Indigestion ant Too U*arty Kntln.:. A perfect remedy IHscinem^ Nali*c:, Drowni n?**.Ba3 Ta»1 In tbe Mouth, Co*i"i Tongue, Palo ID the Hide, Ac. They reflate the Bowels prevent Constipation and Piles. The*rns-.l-

(CARTER'S

PILLS.

and eaaie«t 10 take. Only one pill a dent*. I 40 In vial. Purely

Vegetable.

Price 25 cent*. I

Sold by all Druggists. I CARTER MEDICINE CO., Prop'n, Erie, Pa. Fire Vials by mail for one dollar.

pf§l