Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 39, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 March 1884 — Page 2

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE. TBRRE HAUTE, MARCH, 22,1884

THE REASON WHY.

I did not love him long ago, Instead of yes I gave him no. I did not IOTA him, bat to-day 1 read hi* marriage notice. Pray, Why was I sad, when never yet HM my heart known the least regret Over that whispered no! and why, Reading the notice, did I sigh No analyst can guess the cause A woman's reason laugh* at laws. His early love for me dead— 3 Another lives in that love's stead,

And if he loves her well as men Should love their chosen ones, why, then, He most be glad that long ago, Instead of yes I gave him no.

Perhaps that lathe reason

why

I read the notice with asigh. —[Roxana L. Gordon.

A Perilous Secret.

."k

Bt

CHARLES READE,

Author of "Hard Cash," "Put yourself in His Place," "It's Never Too Late to Mend," "Griffith Gaunt," etc.

-Two worn travellers, a young man and a fair girl about four years old, sat on the towing-path by the side of the Trent.

Thd young man had his coat off, by which you might infer it

WAS

very hot

bat no, it was a keen October day, and an east wind sweeping down the river. The coat was wrapped tightly rouad the little girl, so that only her fair face with blue eyes and golden hair peeped out and the young father sat in his shirt sleeves, looking down on her with a loving but anxious look. Her mother, his wife, had died of consumption, and he was in mortal terror lest biting winds and scanty food should wither this sweet flower too, bis one remaining joy.

William Hope was a man full of talent self-educated, and wonderfully quick at learning anything he was a linguist, a mechanic, a mineralogist, a draughtsman, an inventor. Item, a bit el a farrier, and half a surgeon could play the fiddle and the guitar, could *, draw and paint and drive a four-in-hand?

Almost the only thing he could not do was to make money and keep it. Versatility seldom pays. But, to tell •~'i the truth luck was against him and although in a long life every deserving naa seems to get a chance, yet Fortuite does baffle some meritorious men for a limited time. Generally, we think, good fortune aad ill fortune succeed each other rapidly, like red cards and black but to some ill luck comes in great long slices and if they don'tdrink or despair, by-and-by good luck comes continuously, and everything turns to gold 'i with him who has waited and deserved.

Well, far many years Fortune was hard on William Hope. It never let him get his head above-water. If he got a good place, the employer diedkor sold his business. If he patented an Invention. and exhausted his savings to pay the fees, no capitalist would work it, or some other inventor proved he had invented something so like it that there was no basis for a monopoly.

At last there fell ou him the heavies blow of all. He had accumulated £50 as a merchant's clerk, and was in negotiation for a small independent business, when his wife, whom he loved tenderly, slokened.

For eight months he was distracted with hopes and fears. These gave way to dismal eertainty. She died, and left him broken-hearted and poor, impoverished by the doctors, and pauperized by the undertaker. Then his crushed heart had but one desire—to fly from the home that had lost its sunshine, and the very country which had been calamitous to bim.

He had one stanch friend, who had lately returned rich from New Zealand, and bad oflgBred to send him out as his agent, and to lend him money in the colouy. Hope had declined, and his friend had taken the huff, and bad not writteu to bim since. But Hope knew be was settled in Hull, and too goodhearted at bottom to go from his word iu his friend's present sad condition. So William Hope paid every debt he owed in Liveipool, took his child to her mother's tombstone, and prayed by it, and started to cross the island, and then leave it for many a long day.

He bad a bundle with one brush, one eomb, apiece of yellow soap, and two changes of linen, one for himself, and oue for his little Grace—item, his fiddle, and a reaping hook for it was a late harvest in the north, and be foresaw he should have to work his way and play his way. or else beg, and he was too much of a man for that. His child's faee won her many a ride in a wagon, and many a cup of milk from bumble women standing at their cottage doors.

Now and then he got a day's work in 2, the fields, and the former's wife took care of little Grace, and washed her linen and gave them both clean straw in the barn to lie on. and a blanket to cover them. Qnoe he fell in with a harvesthone, and his fiddle earned him ten shillings, all in six-penoes. But on unlucky days he had to take his fiddle under his arm. and carry his girl on his back these unlucky days came so often ihatstill as he travelled his small pittance dwindled. Yet half-way on this iouruey fortune smiled on him suddenly. It was In Derbyshire. He went a littie out of his way to visit his native

fI«re

lace—he had left it at ten years eld. an old maid, his first cousin, 'reeeived Grace with rapture, and Hope pottered about all day, reviving his boyfsh reotrtlections of people and places.

He had left the Tillage Ignorant he returned full of various knowledge and

wo

it was that In a certain despised field, all thistles, and docks and every known weed, which field the tenant had condemned as a sour clay unfit for cultivation, William Hope found certain strata and other signs which, thanks to his mineralogies! studies and practical knowledge, sent a sudden thrill all through his frame. "Here's lock at last said be. "My child! my child! our fortune is made.1'

The proprietor of this land, and indeed of the whole parish, was a retired warrior, Colonel Clifford. Hope knew that very well, and hnrried to Clifford Hall, all on lire with hia discovery.

He obtained and Interview without any difficulty. Colonel Clifford, though :1 proud as Lsdter, was acveniUe and 3 stiffly civil to humble folk. He was 1 cndOQtMOQgh to Hope bat, when the poor fellow lei him know he bad found

1signs

of coal on his land, be frote

?. directly: told him that two gentleman in. that neighborhood had wasted their

money groping the bowels of the earth for coal, because of delusive indications on the surface of the soil and that for his part, even if he was sure of success, he would not dirty his fingers with eoal. ••I believe," said he, "the northern nobility descend to this sort of thing: but then they have not smelled powder, and seen glory, and served her Majesty. I have.'"

Hope tried to reason with him, tried to get roand him. But he was unassailable as Gibraltar, and soon cot the whole thing short by saying: "There, that's enough. I am much obliged to you, sir, for

bringing

me information you think

valuable. You are travelling—on foot-

short

of funds perhaps. Please accept this trifle, and—and—good-morning." He retreated at marching pace, and the hot blood burned his visitor's face. An alms!

But on second thoughts he said: "Well, I have offered bim a fortune, and be gives me ten shillings. One good turn deserves another." So he pocketed the half-sovereign, and bought his little Grscea neck-handkerchief, bine with white spots and so this unlucky man and child fought their way from west to east, till they reached that place where we introduced them to the reader.

That was an era in their painful journey, because until then Hope's only anxiety was to find food and some little comfort forhis child. But this morning little Grace had begun to cough, a little dry eough that struck on the fathor's heart like a knell. Her mother had died of consumption: were the seeds of that fatal me lady in her child If so, hardship, fatigue, cold, and privation would develop them rapidly, and she would wither away into the grave before bis eyes. So be looked down on her in an agony of foreboding, and shivered in his shirt sleeves, not at the cold, but at the future. She, poor girl, was, like the animals, blessed with ignorance of everything beyond the hour and soon she woke her father from his dire reverie with a cry of delight. "Oh, what's they?" said she, and beamed with pleasure. Hope followed the direction of her blue eyes, open to their full extent and lo! there was a little fleet of swans coming round a bend of the ri ver. Hope teld her all about the royal birds, and that they belonged to sovereigns in one district, to cities in another. Meantime the fair birds sailed on, and passed stately, arching their snowy necks. Grace gloated on them, and for a day or two Her discourse was of swans.

At last, when very near the goal, misfortunes multiplied. They came into a town on a tidal river, whence they Could hope to drift down to their destination for a shilling or two but here Hope bpent bis last farthing on Grace's supper at an eating-house, and had not wherewithal to pay for bed or breakfast at the humble inn. Here, too, he took up the local paper, praying Heaven there might be some employment advertised, however mean, that so he might feed his girl, and not let the fiend consumption take her at a gift. mf

No, there was nothing in the advertising column, but in tne body of the paper he found a paragraph to the effect that Mr. Samuelson, of Hull, bad built a gigantic steam vessel in that port, and was going out to New Zealand iu her on her trial trip, to sail that morning at high tide, 6:45 a. m. and it was now nine.

How a sentence in a newspaper can blast a man! Bereavement, Despair, Lost Love—they come like lightning in a single line. Hope turned ck at these few words, and down went his head and his

handB,

and be sat all of a heap, cold

at heart. Then he began tg disbelieve in everything, especially in honesty. For why If he had only left Liverpool in debt and taken the rail, he would have reached Hull in ample time, and would have gone out to New Zealand in the new ship with money in both pockets.

But it was no use fretting. Starvation and disease impended over his child. He must work, or steal, or something. In truth he was getting desperate. He picked himself up and went about, offering his many accomplishments to humble shop-keepers. They all declined him, some civilly. At last he came to a superior place of business. There were large offices and a handsome bouse connected with it in the rear. At the side of the offices ware pulleys, cranes and all the appliances for loading vessels, and a yard with horses and vans, so that the whole frontage of the premises was very considerable. A brass plate said, "R. Bartlev, ship-broker and commission agent but the man was evidently a ship owner and a carrier besides so this miscellaneous shop roused hopes in our versatile hero. He.rapidly surveyed the outside, and then cast hungry glances through the window of the man's office, It was a bow-window of usual *IZH, through which the proprietor or his employes could see along way up and down the river. Through this window Hope peered. Repulses had made him timid. He wanted to see the face he bad to apply to before he ventured.

But Mr. Hartley was not there. The large office was at present occupied by bit* clerks one of these waa Leonard Monckton, a pale young man with dark hair, a nose like a hawk, and thin lips. TTie other was quite a young fellow, with brown hair, hazel eyes, and an open countenance. Many a bard rub puts a point on a man." So Hope resolved at once to say nothing to that pale clerk so like a kite, but to interest the open countenance in him and hia hungry ohild.

There are two approaches to the large office. One, to Hope's right, throngh a a door and a lobby. This was seldom used except by the habitues of the place. The other was to Hope's left, through a a very small office, generally occupied by inferior clerk, who kept an eye upon the work outside. However, this office had also a small window looking inward this opened like a door when the man had anything to say to Mr. Hartley or the clerks in the large office.

William Hope entered this outer offiee and found it empty. The clerk happened to be in the yard. Then he opened the inner door and looked in on the two clerks, pale and haggard, and apprehensive ox a repulse. He addressed himself to the one nearest him: it was the one whose face had attracted him. "Sir, can I see Mr. Bartley

The young fellow glanced over the visitor's worn garments and dusty shoes and said, dryly, "Hum lif it is for charity, this is the wrong shop." "I want no charity," said Hope, with asigh "I want employment. But I do want it very badly, my poor little girl and I are starving." "Then that is a shame," said the young fellow, warmly. "Why you are a gentleman, arent you "I donH know tor that," said Hope. "But I am an educated man, and I could do the whole business of this place. Bat von see I am down in the world." -Yon look like it," said the clerk, bluntly. "But don't yon be so green as to Mil old Bartley that, or yon are done for. No, no III show you how to get in here. Wait till half past one. He lunches at one, and be IsoH quite such a brute after luncheon. Then yon come in like Julius Cresar, and brag likebhuea. and offer him twenty pounds* worth of industry and ability, and above all arithmetic, and he will a^y be has no

opening (and that is a lie,) and oflhr you fifteen shillings, perhaps." "If he does, l'lljum pat it,"said Hope, eagerly. "But whether I succeeded with bim or not, take my child's blessing and my own."

His voice faltered, and Bolton, with a young man's uneasiness under sentiment, stopped him. ''Oh, come, old fellow, bother all thatl Why, we are all stumped in turn." Then he began to nhanA

a

solitary coin into a corner of his

waistcoat pocket. "Look here, I'll lend •on a shilling—pay me next week—it will buy the kid a breakfast. I wish I hwd more, but I want the other for luncheon. I haven't drawn my screw yet. It is due at twelve." "I'll take it for my girl," said Hope, blushing, "and because it is offered me by a gentleman and like a gentlenaan." "Granted, for the sake of argument," said this sprightly youth and so they parted for the time, little dreaming either of them, what a chain they were weaning round their two hearts, and this little business the first link.

CHAPTER II.

TTTH RICH MAN'S CHILD.

The world is very big, and contains hundreds of millions who are strangers to each other. Yet every now and then this big world seems to turn small so many people whose acquaintance we ynnirn turn out to be acquaintances of our acquaintances. This concatenation ef acquaintances is really one of the marvels of social life, if one considers the changes against it, owing to the size and population of the country. As an example of this phenomenon, which we have all observed, William Hope was born in Derbyshire, in a small parish which belonged, nearly all of it, to Colonel Clifford yet in that battle for food which is, alas 1 the prosaic but true history of men and nations, he entered an office in Yorkshire, and there made friends with Colonel* Clifford's son, Walter, who was secretly dabbing in trade and matrimony uuder the name of Bolton and this same Hope was to come back, and to apply for a place to Mr. Bartley Mr. Bartley was brother-in-law to that same Colonel Clifford, though they were at daggers drawn, the pair.

Miss Clifford, aged thirty-two, had married Bartley, aged thirty-seven. Each had got fixed habits, and they soon disagreed. In two years they parted, with plenty of bitterness, but no scandal. Bartley stood on bis rights and kept their one child, little Mary. He was very fond of her, and as the mother saw her whenever she liked, his love for his child rather tended to propitiate Mrs. Bartley, though nothing on earth would have induced her to live with bim again.

Little Mary was two months younger than Grace Hope, and, liKe her, had blue eyes and golden hair. But what a difference in her condition! She had two nurses and every luxury. Dressed like a princess, and even when in bed smothered in lace some woman's eye always upon her, a hand always ready to keep her from the smallest accident.

Yet all this care could not keep out sickness. The very day that Grace Hope began to eough and alarm her father, Mary? Bartley flushed and paled, and showed some signs of feverisbness.

The older nurse, a vigilant person, told Mr. Bartley directly and the doctor was sent for post-haste. He felt her

{ever,

(ulse, and said there was some little but no cause for anxiety. He administered syrup of poppies, and little Mary passed a tranquil night.

Next day, about one in the afternoon she became very restless, and waa repeatedly sick. The doctor was sent for. and combated the symptoms but did not inquire closely into the cause. Sickness proceeds immediately from the stomach so he soothed the stomach with alkaline mucilages, and the sickness abated. But next day alarming symptoms accumulated, short breathing^ inability to eat, flushed face, wild eyes. Bartley telegraphed to a first-rate London physician. He came and immediately examined the girl's throat, and shook his bead then he uttered a fatal word—Diphtheria.

They had wasted four days squirting petty remedies at symptoms, instead of finding the cause and attacking it, and now he told them plainly it was too late —the fatal membrane was formiDg, and, indeed, bad half closed the air-passages.

Bartley in his rage and despair would have drivenlthe local doctor out of the house, but this the London doctor would not allow. He even consulted him on the situation, now it was declared, and as often happens, they went in for heroic remedies since it was too late.

But neither powerful stimulates nor biting draughts nor caustic applications could hinder the deadly parchment from growing and growing.

The breath reduced to a thread, no norisLment possible except by beef tea, and similar enemas. Exhrustion inevitable. Death certain.

Such was the hopeless condition of the rich man'a child, surrounded by nurses and physicians, when the fatber of tbe poor man's child applied to the clerk Bolton for' that employment which meant bread for his child, and perhaps life for her.

William Hope returned to his little Grace with a loaf of bread he bought on the road with Bolton's shilling, and fresh milk in a soda water bottle.

He found her crying. She bad contrived, after tbe manner of children, to have an aoeident. Tbe room was almost bare of furnitur®, but my lady had found a wooden stool that could be mounted upon and tumbled off, and she bad done both, her parent being away. She had braised and sprained her little wrist, and was in the depths of despair. "Ah," said poor Hope, "I was afraid something or other would happen if I left you.'"

Hdutook her to the window, and set her on his knee, and comforted her. He cut a narrow

Blip

off his pocket hand-

cherchief, wetted it, and poured consolation into her ear. But soon she interrupted that, and flung sorrow to tbe winds she uttered three screams of delight, and pointed eagerly throngh tbe window. "Here there be again, tbe white swans!"

Hope looked, and there were two vessels, a brig and a bark, creeping down tbe river toward tbe sea, with white sails bellying to a gentle breese astern.

It la experience that teaches proportion. The eye of childhood is wonderfully misled in that matter. Promise a little child the moon, and ahow him the ladder to be used, he sees nothing inadequate In the means so Grace Hope waa delighted with her swans.

But Hope, who made it his business to instruct her, and not deceive her as some thoughtless parents do, out of fun, the wretches, toldber,gently,they were not swans, but ships.

She waa a little disappointed at that, but Inquired what they were doing. "Darling," said he, "they are going to some other land, where honest, bardworking people can not starve, and, mark ray words, darling,** said ho—she pricked ber little ears at that—"you aad I shall have to go with tbean, for we am poor." "Oh," said little Grace, impressed by his manner as well as bis words, and nodded her pretty bead with apparent

wisdom, and seemed greatly impreeed. Then her father fed her with bread and milk,and afterwards laid heron the bed, and asked her whether she loved him. "Dearly, dearly," aaidshe. "Then if you do," said he, "you will go to sleep like a good girl, ana not stir off that bed till I oome back." "No more I will," said she.

However, he waited until shp was axoelent condition for keeping he/ promise, being fast as a church.

Then he looked long at her beautiful face, {wax-like and even-tinted, but full of life after her meal, and prayed to Him who loved little children, and went with a beating heart to Mr. Bartley's office.

But in the short time, little more than an hour and a half, which elapsed between Hope's first and second visit, some most unexpected and remarkable events took place.

Bartley came in from his child's dying bed distracted with grief but business to him was the air he breathed, and he went to work again as usual, only in a hurried and bitter way unusual to him. He sent out his clerk Bolton with some bills, and told him sharply not to return without the money and whilst Bolton, so-called, was making bis toilette in the lobby, his eye fell on his other clerk, Monckton.

Monckton was poring over the ledger with his face down, the very picture of a faithful servant sbsorbed in his master's work.

But appearances are deceitful. He has Bmall book of his own nestled between the ledger and his stomach. It was filled with hieroglyphics, and was his own betting book. As for his brown-study, this was caused by his owing £100 in the ring, and not knowing how to get it. To

do

sure, he could rob Mr. Bartley. He had done it again and again by false accounts, and even by aostractions of coin, for he had false keys to his employer's safe, cash-box and drawers, and desk:. But in bis opinion he had played this game often enough, and was afraid to venture it again so soon and on so large a scale.

Me was so absorbed id these thoughts that he did not hear Mr. Bartley come to him to be sure he came softly, because of tbe other clerk, who was washing the hands agd brushing his hair in the lobby.

So Bartley's band fell gently, but all in a moment, on Monckton's shoulder, and they say tbe shoulder is a sensitive

Slonckton

art in conscious rogues. Anyway, started violently, and turned from pale to white, and instantly clapped both bands over his betting book. •'Monckton," said his employer, gravely. "I have madea very ugly discovery."

Monckton began to shiver. "Periodical errors in the balances, and the errors always against me."

Monckton began to prespire. Not knowing what to say, he faltered, and at last stammered out, "Are you sure, sir?" "Quite sure. I have long seen reason to suspect it so last night I went through all the books, and now I am sure. Wlfoever the villain is I will send him to prison if I can only catch him."

Monckton winced and turned h's head away, debating in bis mind whether he should affect indignation and sympathy, and pretend court inquiry, or should wait till lunch-time, and then empty the cash box and bolt.

Whilst thus debating, these words fell unexspectedly on his ear: "And you must help me."

Then Monckton's eyes turned this way and that in a manner that is common among thieves, and a sordonic smile curled hi* pale thin lip. "It is my duty," said the sly rogue, demurely. Then, after a pause, "But how?"

Then Mr. Bartley glanced at Bolton in the lobby, and not satisfied with speaking under his breath, drew this illchosen confidant to the other end of the office. "Why, suspeot everybody, and watch them. Now there's this clerk Bolton I know nothing about bim I was taken by his looks. Have you an eye on him." "I will, sir," said Monckton, eagerly. He drew along breath of relief, or all that, he was glad when a voice in the little office announced a visitor.

It was a clear, peremptory voice, short, sharp, incisive, and decisive. The clerk called Bolton beard it in the lobby, and scutted into tbe street with a rapidity that contrasted drolly ebough with the composure and slowness with which he had been brushing his bair and titivating bis nascent whiskers.

A tall, stiff military figure literally marched into the middle of the office, and there htood like a sentinel.

Mr. Bartley coald hardly believe his senses. "Colonel Clifford I" said he roughly. "You are surprised to see me here 7" "Of course 1 am. May I ask what brings you "That which composes all quarrels and squares dll accounts—Death.'

Colonel Clifford Raid this solemnly, and with less asperity. He added, with a glance at Monckton, "This is a very private matter."

Bartley took the hint, and asked Monckton to retire into the inner office. As soon as he and Colonel Clifford were alone, that warrior, still standing as straight as a dart, delivered himself of certain short sentences, each of which seemed to be propelled, or indeed jerked out of him, by some foreign power seated in bis breast. "My sister, your injured wife, is no more." ., "Dead! This is very sudden. I am very, very sorry. I—"

Colonel Clifford looked the word "Humbug," and continued to expel short sentences." "On her death bed she made me promise to give yon my band. There it is."

His hand was propelled out, caught flying by Bartley, released, and drawn back again, all by machinery it seemed. "She leaves you £20,000 in trust for tbe benefit of her child aud yours—Mary

B^Poor,

dear Elisa."

Tbe Colonel looked as lisT high bred people do when they say "Gammon," but proceeded civilly through brusquely. "Iu dealing with tbe funds you have a large discretion. Should the -girl die before you, or unmarried, tbe money lapses to your nephew, my son, Walter Clifford. He is a scapegrace, and baa run away from me but I must protect hia just interests. So as a mere matter of form I will ask you whether Mary Bartley is alive."

Bartley bowed his head. Colonel Clifford had not beard she was 111, so he continued: "In that case"— and then, iinterrupting himself for a moment, turned away to Bartley private table, and there emptied his pockets of certain documents, one of which be wanted to select.

His back wa* not turned more than half a minute, yet a roost expressive pantomine took place In that abort interval.

Tbe nurse opened a door of communication, and stood with a rush at tbe threshold indeed she would have rush ed in but for the stranger. Shewaavery

Candthan

threw up her bauds to Bartley. face and ber gesture were more expressive words.

Then Battiqy clinging by mere desper­

ate

instinct to money he oould not hope to keep, flew to ber, drove her out by a frenzied movementof both hands though he did not touch her, and spread-eagled himself before the door, with his face and dilated eyes turned toward Colonel Clifford.

The Colonel turned and stepped toward him with tbe document he had selected at the table. Bartley went to meet him.

The Colonel gave it to him, and said it was a copy of the will. Bartley took it, and Colonel Clifford expelled hiS last sentences. "We have shaken hands. Let us forget oar past quarrels, and respect the the wishes of the dead."

With that he turned sharply on both heels, and faced the door of the little office before he moved then marched out in about seven steps, as he bad marched in, and never looked behind him for two hundred miles.

The moment he was out of aight, Bartley. with his wife's will in his band and ice in his heart, went to his child's room. The nurse met him, crying, and said, "A change"—mild but fatal words that from a nurse's lips end hope.

He came to the bedside just in time to see the breath hovering on his child's lips, and then move them as the summer air stirs a leaf.

Boon all was still, and the rich man's child was elay. The unhappy father burst into a passion of grief, short but violent. Then he ordered the nurse to watch there, and let no one enter the room then he staggered back to bis office, and flung himself down at his table and buried bis head. To do him justice, he was all parental grief at first, for his child was his idol.

The arms were stretched out across the table: tbe head rested on it the man was utterly crushed.

Whilst he was so, the little office door opened softly, and a pale, worn, haggard face looked in. It was the father of the poor man's ohild in mortal danger from privation and hereditary consumption. The haggared face was come to ask the favor of employment, and bread for his girl, from the rich man whose child was clay.

CHAPTER III.

THE TWO FATHERS.

Hope looked wistfully st that crushed figure, and hesitated it seemed neither kind uor politio to intrude business upon grief.

But if the child was Bartley's idol, money was his god, and soon in his strange mind defeated avarice began to vie with noble sorrow. His child dead bis poor little flower withered, and her death robbed him of £20,080, and indeed, of ten times that sum, for he had uow bought experience in trade and speculation, and had learned to make money out of money, a heap out of a handful. Stung by this vulgar torment in its turn, be started suddenly up, and dashed his wife's will down upon the floor in a fury, and paced the room excitedly. Hope still stood aghast, and hesitated to risk his application.

But presently Bartley caught sight of him, and started at him, but said noth-

n£hen

the poor fellow saw it was no use

waiting for a better opportunity, so he came forward and carried out Bolton's instructions he put on a tolerable jaunty air, and said, cheerfully, "I beg your pardon, sir can I claim your attention for a moment "What do you want?" asked Bartley, but like a man whose mind was elsewkord* "Oniy employment for my talent, sir. I hear you have a vacancy for a manaffGr "Moving of theBort. /am manager."

Hope drew back despondent, and bis haggard countenance fell at such prompt repulse. But he summoned coursge, and, once more

acting

genial confidence,

returned the attack. "But you don't know, sir, in how many ways I can be useful to you. A grand and complicated business like yours needs various acquirements in those who have tbe honor to serve you. For instance, I saw a

Bmall

engine at

work in your yard now I am a mechanic, and I can double the power of that engine by merely introducing an extra band and a couple of cogs." "It will do as it is," said Bartley, languidly, '*and I can do without a managar/'

Bartley's manner was not irritated but absorbed. He seemed in all bis replies to Hope to be brushing away a fly mechanically and languidly. Tbe poor fly felt sick at heart, and crept away disconsolate. But at the very door he tu rned, and for his child's sake made another attempt. "Have you an opening for a clerk? I can, write business letters in French, German, and Dutch and keep books in double entry." "No vacancy for a clerk," was the weary reply. "Well, then, a foreman in the yard. I have studied tbe economy of industry, and will undertake te get you tbe greatest amount of labor out oi the smallest number of men." "I have a foreman already," said Bartley, turning his back on bim peevishly, for the first time, and pacing the room, absorbed in his own disappointment.

Hope was in despair, and put on his hat to go. But he turned at the window and said: "You have vans and carts. I am a veterinary sunjeon and I can drive four-in-hand. I offer myself as carman or even hostler." "I do not want a hostler, and I have a carman."

Bartley, whet, he had said this, sat down lik© a mail who had finally disposed of the application.

Hope went to tbe very door, and leaned against it. His jaw propped. He looked ten years older. Then, with a piteous attempt at cheerfulness, he came nearer, and said: "A messenger, then. I'm young and very active, and never waste my employers time."

Even this humble proposal was declined, though Hope's cheeks burned with shame as be made it. He groaned aloud, and bis head dropped on his breast.

His eye fell on tbe will lying on the ground be went and picked it up, and handed it respectfully to Bartley.

Bartley started, took it, and bowed hia bead an inch or two in acknowledgment of tbe civility. This gave the boor daunted fatber courage again. Now that Bartley's face was turned to him by this movement, be took advantage of it, and said, persuasively: "Give me some kind of employment, sir. You will never repent it." Then he began to warm with consciouspower. "I've intelligence, practicability, knowledge and in this age as science knowledge is wealth. Example: I saw a swell march out of this place that owns all the parish I was boro in. apew bim in a moment—Colonel Clifford, Well, that old soldier draws bis rents when he can get them, and never looks deeper than tbe roots of the grass bis cattle crop. But teU yw* be never takes a walk about his grounds but he rosrcli68 upon roillloM—jow coal! and near the surface. I know the signs. But I am impotent only fool« possess tbe gold that wise men cut coin into wiwii. Try me, sin honor me with

your sympathy. You area father—yo« have a sweet little girl, I hear"—Bartley winced at that.—"well, so have I, aad the hole my poverty makes me pig in in not good for ner, sir. She needs the sea air, the scent of flowers, and, blesa her little heart, she does enjoy them so€ Give them to her, and I will give yo« seal, energy, brains, and a million eC money."

This, for ths first time in the interview, arrested Mr. Bartley's attention. "I see you are a superior man," saMt he, but I have no way to utilise jom services." "You can give me no hope, sir?" asked the poor fellow, still lingering. "None—and I am sorry for it.'1

This one gracious speeoh affected peer Hope so that he fougnt for manly dignity, and said, with a lamentable mixture of sham sprightliness and real anguish, "Thank you, sir I only trust that you will always find servants as devoted to your interests as my gratitude would have made me. Good morning sir." He clapped his hat on with a sprightly, ghastly air, and marched oC resolutely.

But, ere he reached the do*r, Nature overpowered the father's heurt away went Bolton's instructions away went fictitious deportment and iedgned cheerfulness. The poor wretch uttered a cry. indeed a scream, of anguish, that would have thrilled ten thousand hearts hs4 they heard it he dashed his hat on the ground, and rushed toward Bartley, with both hands out—"For Qod'» sake d*n't sena me away—my child i» starving."

Even Bartley was moved. "Yeur child!" said he, with some little feeling. This slight encouragement was enough fora father. His love gushed forth.

"A

little golden-haired, blue-eyed angel, who is all the world to me. We have walked here from Liverpool where I had just buried ber mother. Gold help met God help us both! Many a weary mile, sir, and never sure of supper or bed. The birds of the air have nests, the beasts of the field a shelter, the fox a bole, but my beautiful and fragile girl, only four years old. sir, is houseless and homeless. Her mother died of consumption, sir, and 1 live in mortal fear for now ghe is beginning to cough, and I cannot give her proper nourishment. Often on thin fatal journey I have felt her shiver, and then 1 have taken ofi my coat and wrapped it round her, and ber beautifnt eyes had looked up in mine, and seemed to plead for the warmth and food I'd sell my soul to give her." "Poor fellow," said Bartley "I suppose I ought to pity you. But how cau 1? Man—man—your child is alive, and while there is life there is hope bat mine Is dead—dead!" he almost shriek­

"Dead I" said Hope, horrified. "Dead," cried Bartley. "Cut off afc four years old, the very age of yours. There—go and judge for yourself. You area lather. I can't look upon mjr blasted hopes, and my withered flower. Go and see my blue-eyed falr-baired darling—clay, hastening to the tomb and you will trouble me no more witk your imaginary griefs." He flung himself down with his head on his desk.

Hope, following the direction of his hand, opened the door of the houae, and went softly forward till he met the nurse. He told her Mr. Bartley wished him to see tbe deceased. The nurse hesitated, but looked at him. His sad fsce inspired confidence, and she ashered bias into tbe chamber of mourning. There, laid out in state, was a little figure thai seen in the dim light, drew a cry of dis-. may from Hope. He had left his owM" girl sleeping, and looking like tiuted wax. Here lay a little face the very image of hers, only this was pale wax.

Had he looked more closely, the chin was unlike his own girl's, snd there were other differences. But the first glance revealed a thrilling resemblence. Hope hurried awtfy from the room and enterd the office pale and disturbed. "Oh, air! the very image of my own. It Alls me with forebodings. I pity you, sir, with all my heart. That saa sight reconciles me to my lot. God help you I" aud he was going away for now he felt an unreasoning terror lest bis own child should have turned from colored wax to pale.

Mr. Bartley stopped him. so very like?" said he. ••Wonderfully liko." And again he was going, but Bartley, who bad received him so coldly, seemed now unwilling to pa it "Stay," said he, "and let me think." Tbe truth is, a daring idea bad just flashed through that brain of bis and be wanted to tbink it out. He walked to and fro in silent sgitatlon, ano "his face was a book in which you may read strange matter." At last hejmade up bis mind, but tbe matter was one he did not dare to approach too bluntly, so he went about a little. ••Stay—you don't know all your misfortunes. am ambitious—like you. I believe in science and knowledge—like you. And, if my thild had lived, yon should have been my adviser and my right band I want such a man as yon.

•Are they

Hope threw up bis bsnds. "My usual luck

V*

said be: "always a day too late."

Bartley resounded: "But my child's death robs me of the money to work with, and I can't help you nor help myself."

Hope groanea. Bartley hesitated. But after a moment be said, timidly, "Unless—" and then

Jnless what?" asked Hope, eagerly. "I am not likely to raise objections my child's life is at stake." "Well, then, unless you are really the superior msn you seem to be: man of ability and courage." "Courage I" thought Hope, and begaM to be puzzled. However, he said modestly, that be thought he could find courage in a good cause. "Then you and I are made men, aai« Bartley. These were stout wards but they were not spoken firmly on tno contrary, Mr. Bartley's voice trembled, and hia "brow began to pre^pirevisibly.

His sgitatlon communicated itself to Hope, and the latter said, in a low impressive voice, "This is something very grave, Mr. Bartley. Sir, what is it?"

Mr. Bartley looked uneaaily all round tbe room, and

came

close to Hope. Tbe

•ery walls must not bear what I now say to you." Then in a thrilling whiaper. "My daughter moat not die."

Hope looked puzzled. "Your daughter must take her place." (To be continued in The Mali next week.],

A #FOBMKB invalid writes: "I waa greatly reduced in health and strength, caused by bad blood. I bad a dosen boils in different parts of my body, and suffered many aches and pains, while the lesst exertion gave me great fatigue. I took three bottiea of Dr. Guysott a Yellow Dock and Sarsaparilla and aaa completely cured. At night I enjoy refreshing dreamless slumber, and all day 1 feel energetic and strong.

HYSTERIA AND NEB VO US PROSTRATION. We give our readers an extract from a cheerful letter, written by Mrs. Elisabeth Smith, of Richmond, Ind., who say*: "Samaritan Nervine cured nae hystersia and nervous prostration. Comment is useless.