Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 36, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 1 March 1884 — Page 2

-&» -fUi

JHE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, MARCH, 1, 1884

THIS SCHOOLMASTER'S TERI knew a school boose, in days gone by,

That stood by a country road, The arching elm trees shadowed It o'er, And near by a brooklet flowed And there, through the weary afternoons,

The girls In their calico gowns And the boys in butternut, used to sit, Struggling with verbs and nouns.

•The old school teacher was gray and grim, A man severe and stern .. And hard It was, 'neath that iron hand,

For a stupid boy to learn, And there was a stupid boy in the lot, The stupidest boy in school, And every one, from the teacher down,

Thought him a hopeless fool.

Every one, I said Ah! no, There was one whose heart was kind, And whose gentle spirit fell like the sun

Up the dullard mind. There was one who taught him, when school w^s o'er, -At

The wearisome tasks to say,??/* And led him to study and understand— The schoolmaster's daughter flaay.

How centle and patient she always was With her puplldull and slow How much there was that was plain to her

Tnat it seemed he never would know, But she never failed in her chosen task, And ceaselessly worked away, And the i-fcupiil boy, the butt of the school,

Grew eleverer day by day.

And how dId It turn out Well, my boy, He didn't turn out so ill He has been selectman of this small town,

And he's working Ills own farm still. And the schoolmaster's daughter—the little May—

She's the best of his love and life— ^"lv. For I was the stupid boy, you see. And May—well, May is my wife.

Octave Thanet In March Century.

ineas

Mrs. Finlay's Elizabethian Chair.

II -s

"What do they want?" said Mr. Finlay. A sunbeam, reflected from the burnished silver of the urn, flicked athwart his face, to emphasize his smile. Mr. Finlay smiled often, for he was not only a good-tempered man, but a man keenly susceptible to humerous impressiotis. He was a tipe of domestic bap-

this morning, seated in the famitemple, tbo dining room, his two handsome boys on his knees and the break fast-table before him. It was a table glittering with silver and cut glass and it wore that air of plogant antiquity which pertained to all Mrs. Finlay house furnishing, being further-adorned with tho shell like .blue china brought from over the sea* by Mrs. Finlay's

f'he

reat uncle, old Captain Crowninshiold. room was ample and lofty, titted up in oak, which had gleams of red and, gold in the sunken carvings, to match the red and gold stamped leather on the walls. There were no plaques, no pictures unloss that were a picture revealed by the wide glass doors—a glimpse of tropical foliage and falling water and the white Diana lifting her lovely arms above thq green. Only a glimpse it was but it supplied an effact of repose and ,!»v mystery that the sunshiny room .must have lacked else, and added a/light touch to the half foreign picturosqdeness

J1 everywhere, the rows of Venetian, glass $ ou the sideboard, the Persiau rug ou the floor, the tire-place, wttb its quaint

Flemish titles, the dim and heavy folds of old Italian tapestry draping the win4ows. Framed by the folds were two more pictures on one side,' an unduUting sweep of hills in the fresh beauty or ,lune, brightly painted woodan hpuses aborwiug through the trees. on the other a long street, ending in a huddle of factory chimneys and the Mississippi quivering and glittering bfelow. Mp. Finlay was gazing absently at the river. Her smooth, low Drow was darkened by a rare cloud. "Want?" she repeated. "Ob, everything a museum in a country town is such an elastic affair. Mrs. Cody says they don't want to contiue it to pictures. They are all here, tbe entire committee, Mrs. Cody, Mrs. Hubbard, and Mias Durham.'' "Vjolqt?" said Mr. Finlay, looking interested "I wish I had aeon har it is an age since I have seen Violet." "She was looking extremely pretty," said Mrs. Finlay, who had been told long ago that her huib&nd ijad once wanted to tnarify Violet Dur}»am. "She picked out most of my Mefsseu plates she knew the'Klng's Pariodf at a glance. And they want my.old Flemish lace and most of the pictures, and. the old sword and the screens, and—oh,'yes, they want the chair!" "Well, yon wilf let them have the things, wont Vou?" "Everything but the chair. There Is a limit, Tom." "Why not the chair They wont hnrt it and here's a chance for you to educate the Wren ham taste."

Mrs. Finlay shrugged her pretty shoulders, and said that she had no such ambition. "Milly," said Tom Finlay, looking at hia wife over his son's curly head, "don't you think you are just the least bit hard on Wreuham?" "Ou the contrary," she answered cold rno are bard on me.

ly, "it is they who are bard on ns They quite disapprove of me, Tom. bave wiue at diunerv with my two boys growing up 1 have a butler and aooachman hence I am a snob and ape the Euglisb. Don't you remember, Tom, how the boys used to shout after poor John Rogers, whenever he drove out, 'Hi, where's the eircus I shall be contented if tbe museum cultivate the Wreuham taste up to the point of tolerating my liveries." "1 don't think it's the liveries that makes the trouble, Milly,"said Mr. Finlay, gravely "it's a notion they have here that you look down on them as uncouth and provincial. Perhaps we are, but we donH like to be despised for it, all the same. I'm not complaining, you know. 1 realite that it is a bore for you to bave to live in Wrenham but it would really be so much lees of a bore if you could like the people, and there is great dead in them to like when you get at them." "Probably I have never got them,

Mrs. Finlay. Then she was silent. The Finlays were rich enough to bave made a figure in New York or Boston, aud it was the skeleton In Emily Finlay's closet that sb« must live ia Wrenham, a stupid censorious, provincial town, where one

couldn't

even get ice-cream in bricks.

Too well bred to exhibit tbe skeleton, possibly she did not lock it up securely, since the Wrenham people knew quite well that she never staid a day lohi there than she could help. On theirs thsy repaid this passive and unexpressed dislike with indignant criticism. They nc'wicked her accent, ridiculed her ho* pitaUty, mocked at her housekeeping.

It wis a pity, too, for Mrs. Finlay was a charming woman. She had vivacity as well as repose, and such exquisite tastes in dross that she passed for beauty although, to be frank, she was

simply a graceful creature with a Greek forehead, mouth beautiful brown eyes, and a delicate mouth a trifle too large for her face.

But grace and charm—both W6r© wast* ed ou Wrenham. In ieed, that the criticism was not more bluutly expressed she owed to her husband. Torn Finlay —so every one called him in all the country round about h6 was liked by the towns-people and tbe_ farmers, by the workmen in his coal mines and tbe clerks in his railroad office by women and children, for that matter by the very dogs in the street and the horses in stable. Nor was such universal affection strange. Tom Finlay was a man at once upright and genial, and he bad a sirfgularly gentle and modest manner. He was tbe descendant of an ancient Scotch family, whose three centuries in America had obliterated their national characteristics. The three centuries had been epeut in Philadelphia: but Tom's father bad gone to Illinois for his health, and therein Wrenham Tom was born. Inheriting a fortune, he had been rather elaborately educated but Harvard and Heidelberg could not quite brush away the flavor as the prairies to the end he was a Westerner he had a dash of the Western unconventionality and all the Western energy and there was in him a peculiarly Western blendiug of sympathy and shrewdness. Mothing human was foreign to him, yet he rarely threw away either his money or his emotions. His attachment to the soil certainly was not Western it must have come to him from his -Scotch ancestors. Tbe original family of Finlays bad it also. They abode in Philadelphia still, cherishing tbe family traditions and tbe old pertraits by Peale and Capley. They mourned over Tom, "who was not like Finlays." His choice of a .wife, they felt, was a direct interposition of Providence. "A Massachusetts Endicott!" they said under their breath, and they welcomed Emily with open arms. She justified their confidence, taking the liveliest interest in Tom's ancestors and revereutly admiring the family relics. As for Tom, he laughed openly at tbe illustrious house of Finlay. The glories of a race, tracing the roots of its ancestral tree down to the stone coffins of the early Scottish kings, were only a joke to this irreverent descendant. "It was bis horrid Western humor," his wife supposed. She dreaded Tom's humor, which found its food everywhere, quiet as it was. Though he was the most generous and tolerant of husbands, she sometimes had tbe strangest, chilliest sensation of serving as the butt of his silent and secret wix. He never ridicul ed her he was only amused by her, which was worse. Her fears did her husband injustice, but they were so undemBIrative that he never had

a chance to

dispel them. All the same they did their work well. They cut off the natural simple confidences between husband and wife. They made Emily shy of any vivid expression of feeling. They repressed the very evideuces of her affection for Tom, wbile they made it out of the question for her to confess those vague and passing doubts which trouble the serenest love when the lover is a woman* Besides, she was a New England woman, trained to exaggerate her conscience and underrate her emotions. Therefore, she tried on honest, unworldly Tom tactics which had been better suited to a worn-out man of pleasure. She gave him a beautiful and harmonious nome she won admiration evervwnere—eXOTpt in Wrooimtitf oh# let him see her out of temper in short, she made him delightfully comfortable. When they were away from Wrenham, —and they were away from Wrenham a great deal,—Tom was told on all sides how fortunate he was ip his wife. He agreed heartily yet, in truth, he was not more satisfied with his married happiness than was she. He would have liked Emily to be more expansive he longed for those trivial confidences which she withheld as bores and, on manv accounts, it wQuld have gratified him to have had his'^wife fond of his native town. But, being so tolerant, he reasoned that he could not expect everything from one woman. ""Milly is the most charming and sweetest-tempered woman in the world, and the best mother," thought Tom, stroking a rather melancholy smile with his big hand "and I'm much too ugly and tame for a beautiful woman to fall desperately in lovo with me. Very likely I'm a trifle provincial in the bargain. Wrenham and I suit each other. It isn't odd we don't just suit her." Tberefore.be said nothing of his feelings. To-day, for the first time in years, he had spoken. Now, lie was blaming himself for his speech. What was the use? He had merely bothered Milly. Mrs. Finlay, on her part, was disgusted with herself because she had shown a tingue of irritahilitv. "You see, Tom," she said after a pause, "that chair is my pet weakness." "Well, I wouldu't send it then," answered Tom, easily.

Mrs. Finlay considered, Now, the chair was the delight of her eves—the darling of her pride a genuine Elizabethan chair of age-blackened oak, given her by the chief of the Finlay

clan, who still maintained a faded magnificence in the Highlands. Originally it was an English chair, coming noith as part of the^bridal portion of tbe English wile of one of the Finlays and tradition declared that the hapless Queen of Scots, while visiting her loyal follower, the then Sir Fergus, had made the chair her throne. The Finlay arms were carved on the back and the date—a sight to awe caviling skeptics. Very dear to Mrs. Finlay was the chair dearer than ber pictures or her rare old engravings or her fragile treasures from Venice, or even the wonderful vase which was possibly "Henri Deux dearer by far than her own family heir-looms of sword and clock and china. There was another sword, a Scottish claymore, as well as a battered buckler, further gifts of Sir Fergus but a haze hung over their history, and Mrs. Finlay, alluding to them, simply gave them the general title of honor, "in tbe family." Of course, there could be no comparison of snch as these with chain. This wsa why Mrs. Finiay considered. The children thought it time to join in the conversation. Fergus, the elder, who was nine, wanted to know what kind of a show an art museum was "did it have an elephant?" •They only have pictures and things," said his mother "you may go, if we are here." "I'd rather go to Barn urn's, "said Fergus, thoughtfully. "Say, mamma, fart's stay and go to Barnum's you take me.

Lots of boys' mammas take them to the circus!" "Francis will take yon, brother.

Mid

yon may ask that boy you like so much —Jimmv Hubbard, isn't it?" "I'm *fraid he wouldn't want tq go with me, he's so big," Ftorgns replied, despondently. Jimmy Hubbard was his boy hero, bnt be was fifteen, aad Fergus worshiped him from afar. "Maybe, though," be continued, brightening, "he might if I bad on long pants I wouldn't look so little then and, mamma, hornet*, there atai another boy in Wrenham, big as me, wears short pants!" ••Do say trowsers. Fergus. Anyhow, we 8bant be iu Wrenham much more

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

than a week. You shall see Jumbo, East "Oh, mamma!" said Fergus, reproachfully and, "Ob, mamma!" echoed little fuur-year-old Tom. ••My very children deserts me and like tho place," thought Mrs. Finlay. "Better stay till this fandango is over, don't you think, Milly?" said Tom "it looks more neighborly." "Very well, dear," said Emily, with a smile which, under the circumstances, was heroic. She turned the talk lightly to something else but when Tom and tbe children were gone, and she was alone in the pretty dining room, she sighed.

Tom Finlay came home to luncheon that day, and ran in on the "soliciting committee" of the Wrenham Art Museum. They were standing in the hall, around the chair, all three, Mrs. Hubbard, Mrs. Cody, and Violet Durham. Mis. Hubbard was tbe president of the library, for the benefit of which the museum was to be. She was a tall woman, with winning manners, and a bandsome, care-worn face. Her husband was a district judge. His salary was small, and had six children but Mrs. Hubbard was always pressed to serve on churth com mi tees and to aid charitable undertakings, because she had so much tact and was "such a worker. Mrs. Cody, tbe second member, had a brilliant worldln lot, being the wife of a rich grocer. She was large, florid, and sprightly, and her gleaming black satin gown rattled and sparkled with jet pendants. Violet Durham, the remaining member, leaned over the high chair-back, her pretty face upraised. The wind had roughened her smooth, black braids one loosened lock curled against ber white neck under, the shadow of her hat her great, dark eyes were shining. She wore a simple cambric gown, which had brown figures on a yellowish background, and there were bows of brown ribbon about it, with long ends to flutter when she moved and a careless bunch of Jacqueminot roses was stuck in her belt. In the light poise of ber figure, in the expression of ner face, even in tbe arrangement of her dainty fresh dress, their was an air of cheerful animation she made one think of prairie flowers when the breeze skates the dew from them. Tom Finlay gave her a glance of admiration and a half wistful smile. He had known Violet all his life. Her ©nly brother, who died at college, had been bis most intimate friend Mrs. Durham used totfall Tom "her other boy be was always at theirehouse: Naturally, he fell in love with Violet. It was a boyish passion, never avowed and sosn cured and he married Emily Finlay with no dfsturbing memories. He did mQre be gave substantial aid to the voung lawyer whom Violet had preferred tq him. She was on tbe eve of marrying this man when both her father and he were killed in a dreadful railway accident. Colonel Durham left a large property ih such a state of confusion that it was feared there would be nothing left for Violet and her mother. Iben Tom Finlay came forward bis advice and energy, and the loan be insisted upon making them, rescued a modest independence from the tangle. Mrs. Durham and Violet went abroad, and were gone five years. Tom wanted his wife to take these good friends of his to her heart therefore, praising himself for Machiavelian wile, he was very reticient about them, and said not a word of his little romanqe. So the story came

JM.UayftO be plCCSd tO-

gether by her fancy. She aitruoi IHK0 the Durhams to her heart. Sbe was perfectly courteous she asked them to the house whenever Tom suggested but the pleasant, informal intercourse that he had planned never came. He did not complain indeed, what cause for complaint bad be? Mrs. Finlay did all he asked but there was a sore spot In his regret. To-day, as he greeted Violet he was thinking how seldom be saw the Durhams in his home, and how welcome he had always been made to theirs. A hundred trivial, touching recollections of his childhood helped to bring that wistful curve to his lips. Instautly it was gone, and he was greeting the ladies with most commonplace politeness but his wife had seen it oefoae it went.

The moment the salutations were over, Mrs. Cody,, who had been speaking, tibhtinued: 'sYes, indeed, I know your feeling, Mr. Finlay. When they asked me for my Jackson chair,—it was given to Mr. Cody by the General himself, you know, and he said it* was a hundred years old, —well when they asked for that, it didrv seem as thoush I could let it go. But we're so interested ia the library, and of couise it's diSereut with you you can't be expected, as I told the ladies, to feel an interest. It ain't as though you belonged to tbe town." "I hope you don't think of us as not belonging to Wrenham," said Tom 'I'm a regular Wrenham boy."

Mfs.'Oody waved her plump band. •Oh, you, of course, Mr. Finlay but gentlemen are different you have your business here. But we see so little of Mrs. Finlay, we feel she is quite a stranger."

a lt

Mrs* Cody had a marvelous faculty for saying stinging things. Charitable people held that she was simply heedless the less charitable said ber shafts were too well aimed for shots in the air. Mrs. Hubbard hurried into the eonvera "Mrs. Finlay always shows she is not »stranger by her kindness," she said "she has let us have such a quantity of beautiful things." "That's right," said Toni, cordially "can't you think of something else?" "Only the chair," Mrs. Cody replied, solemnly.

Mrs. Finlay looked from the speaker to her husband. "If you really think the chair will help tbe museum, you are quite welcome to it," she said.

Tbe visitors broke into a confusion of thanks. •It is very kind of yoti, Mrs. Finlay cried Violet Durham. -I will look after the chair myself." "We will all look after It," said Mrs Cody. "And now, Mrs. Finlay, you encourage us to ask one favor more wont you come on to our general committee?"

Again Emily glanced at her husband there was a familiar twinkle in his eye. "I fear I shan't be any help to yoo," ^e answered, gravely, "but—jm, certainly, If you wish It/9

It must be confessed that though tbe committee professed unbonuded gratitude and satisfaction over tbi* last boon, they looked rather blank Mrs. Finlay guessed that they bad exported a refusal. See urged them to stay to luncheon, a courtesy which had its natural effect, the hastening of their departure.

After they were gone, Tom Finlay said: "Yon were very good-natured, Milly." "It was not good nature, Tom," she answered "it was—well, I am not sure I know what It was myself."

She walked upstairs, leaving him whistling softly.

The Wrenham Art Museum opened ifc» doors two weeks later. For days tbe workers had tolled over a chaos of old book*, pictures, and brlo-a-brac. Tbe result exceeded ibeir hopes. But even in riches there is embarrassment. The

usual procession of petty trials had filed through the days. A sad amount of illfeeling was caused by a few slips of memory, some ladies not being asked to help at all, and others being asked too late. Careless remarks about the objects of art had wounded sensitive souls. Disputes hsd arisen in the committees. There was the quarrel about tbe building happily settled at last by Mr. Cody's generous offer of his late grocery shop, free of rent. To be sure, tbe vigilant nose could still sniff odors of salt fisb, kerosene oil, and molasses, despite the labors of the scrub-women and it never had been considered a well-lighted shop. But a gift horse should not be looked in tbe mouth it was a large, convenient, inexpensive museum hall, and the committee accepted it gratefully, as was their duty.

The selection of a janitor was not so easily made. Mrs. Cody proposed a retainer of her own, an old fellow named Judson, who picked up a precarious livelihood, mowing lawns, running of errands, and working out poll-taxes, wbile his wife made up the deficiencies in the family income by taking in washing. Judson bad lately joined a temperance society, but a particularly unsavory f)ast marred his reputation.

This was Miss Durham's objection to him. "He may get drunk and burn us all up," sbe said "besides, be is a weak old man, and couldn't fight a burglar!" •'He belongs to tbe Sons of Temperance," Mrs. Cody returned stiffly "he don't drink a drop, and he will have a pistol."

A mild little woman here said that she guessed he did need the p.ace his wife bad been sick most of tbe winter. "For my part," said Mrs. Cody warmly, "I think that when anybody repents and is struggling to do better, tbey ought to be encouraged and not trampled on "That's so," another member of the committee agreed. "Besides, we want to have .vlrs. Judson to clean, and it will be much more convenient. She can come in the mornings too, and sweep and dust. Sbe oughtn't to charge much if we have him. We can make all the eleanlug part of bis business then she'll come and do it."

In vain Violet pleaded the danger of Judson's relapsing into h's old habits mercy and thrift combined carried tbe day Mrs. Finlay was the single member voting with her.

Mrs. Finlay came to most of the meetings. Sbe said little and noticed much. Mrs. Hubbard, "for her sins," Violet said, was tbe chief ruler of the artistic council. Mrs. Finlay used to marvel at her unfailing patience. She thought ber own politeness, well trained as it was, would have trembled beneath the awful responsibilities of china, the charges of express companies, thedelays of printers, the assaults of irate owners of pictures which were not bung to their taste, and of distracted banging committees and amateur artists with pictures of their own to show, who had tho "artistic temperament" to such a decree that tbey could .scarcely be trusted in the same room together. But Mrs. Hubbard never winced, she only looked rather more tired at times. Her son and Violet were her great he! per?. Jimmy Hubbard was young Fergus Finlay's hero, a tall lad of fifteen, whose wrists were always growing out of bis jacket sleeves. He was devoted to Violet, and Violet was devoted to Jimmy's handsome overworked mother. They did a little of nearly i»B iW—nw» tn ha. scrubbing show-cases jto wr tisements. "Only," said Violet, "I trust a confiding public doesn't believe the wild tales owners of antiquities tell about their things. If this exhibition lasts much longer, I shall lose my soul—I've got into such a way of lying 1" Jimmy's specialty was painting placards. He made beautiful letters, but bis spelling was not beyond reproach. He enjoyed the museum immensely. "Such fun I" said Jimmy "those people in the picture room are.just going it 1 Mrs. Cody had somebody's picture took down and her's hung in the same place said her picture needed that light and t'other one didn't. And oow theother woman, she's come back, and—oh, •ain't they having a circus, though! And up in the room where they have the Japauese things, they've lost all the labels they tumbled off and got mixed up, and they're putting 'em back by guesses. Folks '11 open their eyes when they see the catalogue. And down-stairs in the chinaroom, somebody's hooked their showcase, so the china's standing round on tbe floor and they say they can't do nothing till they get another'show-case, so they've gone off to dinner, and there ain't nobody in the room 'cept a dog!" "A dogcried Mrs. Hubbard, while Mrs. Unlay turued pale "I must go this instant •'Oh, I ooaxed bim out," said Jimmy thought it didn't look just healthy for the china. Guess he hadn't broke much some of it was broke to start with, wasn't it

Poor Mrs. Hubbard hurried away. Violet laughed. "I think I must hunt them up a showcase," said she. "Take our old bookB out, Simmy, and let us give tbem that.' "But you spent all the morning arranging tbem," said Mrs. Finlay "and you brought tbe show-case yourself. It is quite too bad!" "Oh, it doesn't matter," answered Violet, gayly "it's all for the public good." She was always cheerful. "I suppose I have no proper pride," she said once "nobody wants me to be chairman of anything my valuable suggestions have been uniformly rejected, and still, Jimmy, we are bappy "I wish that Mrs. Cody wasn't chairman of our committee, though," said Jimmy "she never does a thing—just sails round and bosses!" "But sbe has been very liberal. Think of tbe things she has sent us think of the Jackson chair 1" "It ain't half as pretty as Mrs. Finlay's," said Jimmy, unwitting tbat Mrs. Finlay stood behind him "and she makes ten times as much fuss. No Cody In mine, thank you."

Mrs. Finlay smiled as she walked away, feeling more friendly than she would have believed toward Violet and Jimmy. She had been as g°°d «ui her word and sent the chair. Francis, the butler, attended to Its safe delivery. He remained while Violet removed tbe wrappings. ,. "Mrs. Finlay said as how you would look after It yourself, Miss," he remarked, in atone of deep solemnity, adding, as if from tbe imperious promptings of his own conscience. ,?e^. world by tbat chair, and I wouldn't bave it hurt for nothing whatsoever!" "Itahan't be my fault it it gets hnrt, Francis," Violent answered.

On the appointed day the museum wy opened. The Codv chair stood beside Mr*. Fin lay's on a kind erf dais of honor and to many

minds

was the nobler chair

of the two. like tbe Finlay cbair, it was of imposing proportions. Its

sob-

stance was mahogany, and—again like the Finlay cbair— it had arms. Indeed, at first view there was a general resemblance of form, If not of color, between tbe two chairs, although that of Mrs. Finlay was ornamented with florid earring behooved an Elizabethan chair,

while the lines of the other were chastely plain. From the first the exhibition was a triumph. It went victoriously on to its close. One day, somewhere near tbe middle of its career, Violet Durham walked through with her mother. Tbe rooms were almost empty, for the time was early in the morning. The two women paused before a screen of Mrs. Finlay's, a marvel of embroidery on dull gold plusb. "Hasn't she ravishing taste?" said Violet "all her things are so lovely. Why did fate direct Mrs. Cody to hang that horror of a crazyquilt directly over it? Mrs. Finlay will faint when she sees it it will be the last straw. I wish you could see her in the committees, so disgusted with your vulgarities, but so invincibly polite. She never says a word but anything more deadly superior than ber silence I never did encounter. I never am with her, anyhow, that I don't feel myself so hopelessly provincial that I almost don't want to live." "You are unjust, Violet," said Mrs. Durham, a placid gentlewoman, with soft gray hair and a grave sweep smiie "Mrs. finlay isn't a bit of a snof "Ob, I don't mean she is. What I do tbink is that sbe is rather narrow-rniud-ed. She can conceive of people being uice wbo aren't nice in just ber way, who haven't just such manners, for instance, and just such ways of thinking and haven't been to Europe just so many times. Tom deserves a woman cut on a larger pattern. It makes it hard for him." "He seems perfectly satisfied," said Mrs. Durham, smiling. And then they passed on.

Now, Mrs. Finlay was behind the screen. It was purely an accident. She happened to be standing there looking at some articles on the wall. She did not think of their discussing any personal matter, and after they nad begun to speak ana sbe understood, sbe was too surprised and embarrassed to go forward.

The conversation was a revelation. Her first emotion was a shock. She felt as though sbe bad been shown to be brutally rude. True, Bhe did believe ber ways of living and thinking vastly better than those of a country town but her sense of superiority was so deeply rooted that it was hardly visible to her own consciousness to manifest it to its objects seemed to her unutterably indelicate. Her cheeks were burning as she stepped forth from her involuntary kiding-place.

Was she narrow-minded, she who prided herself upon her cosmopolitan toleration Had her distaste for life in Wrenham made it hard for Tom? Did he tbink her narrow-minded? Suirh thoughts made ber miserable for days. "The worst of it, too," she said to herself, "is that it is no use my trying to iacify them. Whatever I do, they are iound to misunderstand me!" Nevertheless, she went again and still another time to tbe museum. The children went, and Tom and Francis, aud John Rogers, (who was very much bored), aud Elise, Mrs. Finlay's maid, and,the co^k, and tbe other maids, and the gardener with all bis family. "I will say she spends her money on us," said Mrs. Cody.

To the very ond the weather was propitious but the day after, tl clouds distilled a gentle, unremitting drizzle. Most of the owners of articles sent for them notwithstanding. Francis and ocers apnea red at five o'clock, m» ,#w li —m.1l? hope of ^njnshine. They took tbs pietures andySbe china, but there was not room for the chair.* Therefore they wrapped it In the tarpaulin tbey brought and left it in Violet's cbargg, Fra'ucis sayitfg, with his air of decf gloom, "Mrs. Finlay told me to br| the pictures first aud take the chai^ another load. I'll be back ,to-iiigl« can. Are you going to stay here,| ask Miss "I shall stay until dark, Francll* Judson will be here all night."

Francis turned a gloomy eye upon* Judson, who was shambling about, & ting Mrs. Cody's property together. "Thank you, Miss but I'd rather co back if I can," said bo. "Now, I wonder," said Violet to Jimi-. my Hubbard, later, "I wonder what he meant by that."

Old Judson had gone upstairs, the other people had gone home, aud they were alone In the room. "Ask me an easier one," said Jimmy "He is sober enough to-nigbt, isn't" he?" Violet asked, looking up into Jimmy's face with tbat anxious reliance on the masculine judgment in' such matters which confirms a boy's opinion of his sex. .' ,,

Oh, straight as a string," said Jim-

my, re-sssui 'tjut be was on a toot Thursday, if you want to know. Sav, Judson, come down and light up."

Judsou lighted a single burner, and listened silently to Violet's warnings and injunctions, scowling to himself. Then Jimmy and she went home. The last thing tbey noticed in the room wan a group of the two chairs, standing on their dais, island-wise, amid a sea of crumpled wrapping-paper. Mrs. Cody's chair was undraped, but Mrs. Finlay't, in its white tarpaulin, looked like a clumsy ghost.

Bv tbis time the rain had ceased and the "stars were shining. They walked to Mrs. Durham's house very cheerfully. Jimmy was prevailed upon to enter and be refreshed with tea. Perhaps an hour bad passed before they were startled by tbe clangor of bells. "Fire!" cried Violet. "Hope it aintu*/" said Jimmy, with more good-will than gratpmar.

Tbe Wrenham fire-bells rang in a startling but not systematic fashion, as fast as tnev could go and the fire companies—volunteers, mostly of tender years—assembled in their respective engine-houses, and ran about tbe streets inquiring for the fire until it made enough headway to be seen. The bells themselves afforded no clew, Jimmy ran out into the street for information at the name time yelling "Fire!" at tbe top of his voice. "Fire! fire! Say, Mister, where's tbe fire T" "Cass street," yelled back a running boy "Cody's old grocery store."

Mrs. l)ur

'•Mercy!" cried )arbam from tbe door-way, "tbe museum! Violet Bat Violet was gone. With the first word sbe bad sped swiftly after Jimmy, nor did sbe stop nntil tbey saw tbe smoke pourisg oat of tbe maseam windows. "Mrs. Finlay's chair!" sbe gasped "Jimmy, we must we it!" "All right," said Jimmy "jast yoa wait!" He dashed through tbe crowd that shouted after bim: "Come back! "The door's locked J" "It's all afire!" Unheeding, be unlocked tbe door—be had his mother's key with bim—and ran into tbe smoke. Horrible smoke it was —dense, blinding, stifling. His eyes werestang bis oars stunned tbe murky air seemed to roar all about bim. Bnt he saw tbe white tarpaulin through bia smoky tears, and staggered op to it. Somebody caught the otber side tbey dragged tbe chair oat together—not a second too soon, for tbe wainscoting of the room was blazing. Safe on the sldewslk. be saw tbat bis uokoown helper was Violst, wbo said

Omtbmed on TUrd Page,

E S 1

Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Sciatica,

Lumbago, Backache, Headache, Toothache, Ser* Throat, Swellta**, Sproln*. BrnMea. Burns. Be*M* Fro»t Kite*.

AKD ALL OTIIBR BODILY PAIAS AND AlilES.

SoHL

by Drucii«U ul Du)«rt »rer.Twh«r«. Fifty CenU battle. DlraottoM In 11 L»n»n»|te». THE OlIARI-TCS A. VOOELEK CO. ffmww

A. VOABLM CO.)

K»lll«iuns Sd., I. B. A.j

Tho best evidence in the world of the parity and excellence of Blactwell'8 Bull Durham Smoking Tobaooo is found in the fact that the fame of this tobacco increases from year to year. This could not be the case if it were merely gotten up to jsell," or had any dubious or dangerous ingredients in it Among millions of users of all nationalities, surely some one would find out if it were impure, injurious or unpalatable. For 18 years this tobacco has been acknowledged to be the toi fa A« teorld, and every year the Bull Durham brand grows more popular, tho demand for it wider, and smokers more enthusiastic over its delicious natural flavor.

Ask your dealer for it Get the genuine—trademark of the Bull.

There is no mischief done where BlaokweU's Bull Durbam Smoking Tobacco is used.

,•

PETTICOL"

Cures Cc

Finest

-PET7

Largo FOR S

alth

Jhdneys

XVort

been tfb Doreraux

0 your nerves

Hoy Woi-t curod ino from ttfti I was not xported to llv*. Goodwin, Ed.

Christian

Have you Bright'e

"Kidney-WortlJ mo ros almost erer uaed»

jr. rhill

Have

Lh pd ill' lat* of

"Kidney-"# after 1 _pray« uonrj

Is'your Back Ian

"Kldnoy.-tforfrfl bottle) roll out or

luw 1 bad to

0. M. Tai

Have you Kidney

"Kldnry-Wort tnado me soundln after years cf-HnnuccMutful (loot

doctor

1 llodgos, WI

$io a box"

Are

rou Constipated?

"Kidncy-Wi me after It

caoaee easy evacuation* aha oarj UBQ

of otheftw^^Jnea/' Nolaon Falrckild, Bt. Albaa*

Ha1'

you Malaria?

[boa done bottor than any otM rer used In my practice.' Dr. It. K. Clark, Bout* Hero,

"Kidncy-Wo: remedy I ha'

'J. All

you Bilious?

"Kidney-Wort' other remedy I

in dono me moro good tban ai fro ever taken." I J. T. Galloway, Ok Flat, Orsgl

Are you tflhnented with PileJ

"Kidnoy-Wort permanently cureit ino of blpoOifl

rii—r

Dr.w. O. lulne recommended It to mo, Goo. a.Hor*t,CMWerM. Bank,Mjerstown,

Are you Rheumatism racked!

"Kldn'y-Wort carta me, after 1 ww fiTc-ii upl

Ladies, are you suffering?!

"Kidney-Wort ctsrcd mo of peculiar trouble* serena year# rtandlmr. Many friend* use and pa* It." Vn. H. Lamoreaox, Ida La Motve,

If you would Banish DiseaJ and gain Health, Take

IDfiEY-WORl

THB BLOOD CLBAN8ER.

AYJSR'S

Sarsaparilli

la a highly concentrated extract^ KaraaparUlA and otber tlood-pvrtfy£j roots, combined with Iodide of Poti tJuxa and Iron, and la tbe safest, most able, and most economical blood-purifier t| can be used. It invariably expels all bUj poisons from tbe system, enftchee and »ng tUo blood, and restores fto vitalizing pow It is tbe best known remedy for 8crofijj and all Scrofulous Complaints, Erysj elaa* Eczema, Binffworm, Blotchj Sores, Bolls, Tumofo, and Eruptlf of tbe Skin, as also for all disorders cacj by a thin and Impoverished, or corrupt] condition of the blood, rach as BbenmatlM Xeuralgrtar Rheumatic Gout, Oeu Debility, and Scrofulous Catarrh^

AV7,R'» SABSAPAKII-LA has cured tbs Inflammatory Bhenmatlsm, fc-lilca bave suffered for many years.

W. H. MOOBE

nrluun, Ia., March 2,1882. PBJSFABED BY -.J.C.AyerACo., Lowell, Mi isM by all Druggists *4, six bottles for