Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 43, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 16 April 1887 — Page 2

I*.

CHAPTER XVIIL

Robert lingered on. He said he was etudying American character. So be was. He mingled freely in tbe green tea and lemonade dissipations of tbo country side. He partook of tbe mild refreshments and .Amusements that were the proper thing. At all these scenes of strictly moral gayety be was tbe bero. He carried off tbe honors in a 'lazy, half cynical way that made him tbe •dored of young ladies, tbo envied of young «nen. Everywhere bo wore tbe same air of •liolding himself a little apart from tbo r»fc, of feci 11 absent minded and slightly bored. "This air suceecded to a charm. It is to bo srecommcnutd to young men and maidens tacel.-ing to make an impression.

At an autumn picnic in tbe woods he aeemed more than aually indifferent He leaned idly against a tree with his feet crossed, bis bead thrown back, bis oyes gazing widely off into tho nowhere. It made not a bad picture, tho tall figure tliero against the tree, in tbe midst of tbe blazing gold and crimson woodlands. -"Thinking on yoiir sins'?" usked Brownie. "*You ouylit to be." "No," says he, "I'm thinking on other people's sins." "Whose, may I askF -"Yours." '"I have no sins to be forgiven. At any rate, if I have, I will bring you a sin offering which will atone for all tho crimes I over did or ever shall commit, past or future. I bring _you a cut of southern fried chicken and a ."Yankee doughnut." -"I fear thu Ui-eefcs bringing sifts," said the young Mian, rather stupidly. "But I'm not at all dangerous," answered -Brownie, quite as stupidly. "There you are mistaken. You aro the most dangerous person I know. And wicked!

You will never get forgiveness unless you come with me down this path over tbe hill, and confess your sins in private, one by one." "Yes, I know," said she gayly. "You want to take mo out tliero in the woods and murder mo, and hide iny dead hotly for tho birds to come and eovcr nie up with Ieavc3." "You're rather large for a babe in the woods, I'm afraid. And nothing like inno* /cent onough."

The path led away from the rest of the -party, out of sight. "Isn't it something now for you to wear rings?" asked Brownie. She was sure he had not had that ono on when the party started. "Well y-e-e-s. This is too small for me, however," taking it off. "It wus made for •fclenderor fingers than mine. Don't you think it is rather a quaint bit of workmanehipf said he, carelessly. "Yes, but very pretty. I never saw a ring like it before, just a plain circle of turquoise forget-mo-nota, with pec.rl hearts. It's old, dstot itf "Yes, older than I am. It's au lieirloom in •our family, and

Tbo lar.in*s and indifference suddenly died •out of his manner. His voico was earnest •enough then, and trembling and passionate, us be said: "I had it from my mother. Sh« told me •never to part with it till I placed it upon my •wife's finger. My mother is dead. Will yon •wear itf"

"Wlt.L YOU WEAR IT?"

Ho it was over. But hidden from them by clump of undergrowth, a man was watching them. He nmdo iv sound, but hU /ace, ftiis very-figure wus ro distorted with rage and passion and hate, thnt ho looked a wild boost Instead of a man. It was Rip the Tramp.

"I reckon lifo'll bo all peaches and cream flfor Brownie now," remarked Mrs. Simpkin's. Life was very bright and sweet to Brownie -then. A bird sang in her heart all day long nnd softly trilled a whispered music in her reams by night. Whcu did ever maiden •have a more royal lover, or more devoted, in t»is wnyf

They were to be married at Christmas. The *vkler Mr. Edgerly wrote, hastening tho wedding. He wanted Robert's American girl over tliero in bis English home, he wrote. Brownie was to ^eave her native shores a Ijride.

That was all very well so far. But Brownie vas a teasing, tantalising sprite still. Sure of her tall adorer, she could not help experimenting on him. There were little tiffs now «utd then (hat were quite something else than the merry sparring of the days of their first acquaintance. "l ui going to leave you for a week. Brownie," he told ber ono day early in Deeemlicr. "But I shall be back a week from to-day."

A gay party of young people was made up for the evening that Robert was to come t»ck. Brownie was asked to join them, and cot **ited. Sbe thought the would like to see wlMt Robert would say.

Sbe found out. He romc in the evening. Brownie was ihtssed charmingly in cream color and scarlet, nil ready for the party. 8h© looked an •onchanting little witch. Robertas eye outlined Iter admiringly, from head to foot. "I'm awfully *orry," said the little hypocrite, •"but MWne people made me promise to go out •with thont to-night. They Just made me go, whmher I would or not* •Ah!" remarked tbe Englishman indiffcr6nliy. *\Yoil, that will da I had some letters to answer to-night* and I shall have ftitne to write them now."

He went away with a languid adieu. Brownie frowned with Taxation. That was not just the kind of scene she had expected. Sbiriey laughed. "lie knows how to manage you, doant ha, Itrownicl Pve no fears tor your heppimai «owr

If Robert had kft well enough akMM.lt •would have beeu well enough. But he did out do that. He was put out by Brownie* tx&svfor and be could not bids it^eatJretjr^

AN ORIGINAL COPYRIGHTED STORY.

By ELIZA AECHARD.

[Copyrighted by the Amerlcau Press Association.]

He went a ntcie way toward tbe village and then turned upon bis beel and came back. "I forgot," said be, "I brought out anew book for Shirley. I want to see what sbe says of it. You don't care for such things anyway. I tbink I'll stay and read it to Hhirley this evening while yon are gone." "So glad to see you!" Brownie murmured sarcastically.

He drew out bis book, and unwrapped it lazily, commenting the. while on its lofty intellectual character. I ?, "By the way, Brownie," he asked, "where i.s it you are going to-nigbtr "I don't believe I'll tell you. My amusements are not sufficiently intellectual to interest ycu." "Oh, well," said be, "it's of no consequence."

Brownie was provoked. "Ill make him angry, or die In the attempt," she vowed tn herself. "Wherever it is," she said, "I'm to meet a most fascinating young man. He's a man who appreciates my modest mental graces, too, if some other people don't. He has the most perfect manner to ladies I ever saw. He isn't one of your intellectual slouches who

never sees whether a lady is comfortable o. not." Robert looked from his book. "Is it young Martin, may

He was getting a little vexed. Brownie watched the knitting brows and exulted. He meditated a moment,( "But insist on knowing."

"Oh, you do. How ver^ unfortunate." "If you don't tell me this," ho said, "I shall think you would be capable of keeping things from mo in earnest."

Brownio flashed a smile at him from her dancing brown eyes, her white teeth and scarlet lips. "Trust me all, or .trust me not at all," she murmured. "Perhaps," ho said, "you'd like it to bo not at all?" "My other adorer would like it, anyway." "Because," he continued, "it can be managed well enough. Ned Bryson and bis wife and lister start for tho Sandwich Islands from California in two weeks. They'll be over there in the Pacific a year or two. They are my best friends. I belong to their party properly, but I'vo been wasting my time here. They've complained before that I deserted thenf Now they write asking me for the last time to join them." "How touching!" "I ought to havo (#no to them long ago. If 1 do so now, you won't objcct, I suppose." "Not I!"

It was tho mere ragged end of a cob W6b for them to quarrel about, yet they quarreled. "Very well, then, since it makes no difference to you, I've made up my miud to go." "Oh, by all means.'' "Then I must start at once. I shall bid you good-by to-night." "So we shall not h&ve the honor of seeing you at—Christmas, I suppose?"

Ho answered slowly and quite seriously: "I—have other viows." kj, Brownio turned white. But it tftislSftly a moment Then the little reprobate balanced hereid on ono foot, gavo him a saucy glance out of tho side of her eye, and whistled— actually whistled "Good by, Brownie." T, "Good night, Mr. Edgerly."

She went with ber friends, and they danced on into tho small hoiu-s, aud Brownie was the merriest of them all. She felt worried privately about the quarrel, yet she was sure he would come back next morning.

But Robert Edgerly did not come back. If be had waited till morning he would have come. He would not have had the heart to do what he did. But ho was angry. A train left Linwood in two bom's. It connected with tho midnight western express at Chesterton. When Brownie came home and wont sleepily upstairs next morning he was already 10J miles away. He had a temper, when it "was up.

Brownio camo down from her late sleep at noon, wear}*, pale nnd a little cross. "I didn't like to disturb you before," said Shirley, "but here's a note Robert sent me. You will know what it means, I suppose."

It was a brief note of farewell. He had started for tho Pacific, he wrote. The journey was an unexpected one and he was sorry to leave, but Brownie could explain matters.

So he was gone! Brownie read the letter again and again, to make sure. She was dazed. When at last she could not help knowing tbo truth she leaned her head upon Shirley's faithful shoulder, and cried to break ber heart. "I never thought he'd go. I never thought it," she sobbed. "I only teased him for the fun of it."

The tremble was not any easier for her to bear, either, as the days went on and the tall lover did not come back. Sbe clung for long against reason to tbe hope that his heart would fait at the last, and be would yet return before the vessel sailed.

Christmas came and went. Christmas was to have been her wedding day. The winter lengthened into spring, still no word from the missing one. Then Brownie gave up looking for him.

So it wan not to be all peaches and cream for her. Sbe still wore' his ring, the quaint circlet of turquoise and forget-me-not be had placed on tier finger that m»y in tbe autumn woods. She did not know where to send it to him. Not a wont bad come.

Sbe waited awhile and then railed, this inconsistent young lady did, bitterly against the falseness, tbo beartkssocss of tbe masculine sex. Sbe carried it off bravely enough among her young friends. It was easy to my that they had quarreled and be bad gone off in a huff and wasn't coming bode. Sbe meant to do as sbe liked, sweetheart or no sweetheart, and gentlemen wbo dWnt approve her ways needn't, that was all

But sbe fnetted secretly, nevertheless, and pined visibly. Sbe bad been more in earnest in caring for Robert Edgerly than in any* thing in her butterfly life before. With Shirley die broke down and did not deny that tbe was fretting ber life out. Sbiriey made no solemn face over the matter. Shirley laughed at ber and rallied her to kaqp op tar

do you

tbink be will ever

TERRS HA

ask?"

"Oh, then, there is something you are inter* ested in?" "Because if it's young Martin, he's a person whoso charming devotion is no credit to any lady. Seriously, I shouldn't like to have him hanging about you, Brownie." "Oh, thank you. But I think I can tell who's proper to hang about me. I'm old enough, too, goodness knows." "Oh, come now, Brownie, that's nonsense. Really, ia it Martin you mean?" "Really, I wont tell you." "Won't?" "By the blessed broomstick, nol"

con*

back, Shirley!* she asked "Cant say, probably not about it. Get another best way for a young lady to h&rt. Yon'veplenty ofc admirers, #But they are all sudfcj stupif •. ?*You ought to have ^onside you teased Lim-Ao." $ l"But I never: though* he •tftrald go off earnest. They always do come back. ^"Pbcy, sc«m to like it He's the first man 1 saw that I couldn't manage as I pleased.' "You are getting knowledge of tbo world,1 then, Brownie—increasing your stock of experience You arc getting your eyes opened." "I don't want them opeuod. It isn't the fair thing for such trouble to happen to me," said this spoiled child. "It's what wo all come to," answered Shirley, with sudden gravity.

It was true that Brownie had many admirers. She bad not the sister's marvelous beauty, tho splendid face that, once seen, men and women turn to look at again that, onco seen, remained a picture in memory to eternity. But Brownie had the prettiness that attracted common men far oftener. On the whole, it suited her better, too

Adorers buzzed about ber in numbers after Edgerly bad departed. Undoubtedly she would have consoled he-self in time. It may or may not be anything against her in the estimation of lady readers to tell that on&er. Nevertheless, trutlx is mighty. Tho truth will weigh nothiug against her with the gentle masculine i-eader—we know that

As it was, however, Brownie refused to be comforted for a whole twelvemontb. That was a long time.

Shirley's tender, watchful soul was troubled about tei sister. She tried in all loving,

lively ways to change her thought She filled in the evenings with gay company and kept the girl out in the sunshine by day. She iaventod errands for her here and there.

So the summer wore on into tho fall, quite a year since Robert had rushed off in a huff. It was indeed a year to a day. That very day Shirley sent Brownie to old Mmc. Frenchy's cottage across tbe woodlands.

Brownie had a great fancy for jewels and bright bits of color about her It was along inheritance from red blooded ancestry. She \va3 fond of rings, mid wore half a dozen sometimes. Again she was braceleted like an Indian princess and necklaced to match. With all those, too, such a vivid, flashing, quick moving creature was Brownie, she did not look overdone.

This afternoon it suited her fancy to rig herself out iu heathen splendor. Besides rings, bracelets and neck pin, she wore the pretty watch and chain Shirley had given her at her eighteenth birthday. She had on a crimson dress. What with her bright dress, the shining bits of gold and stone about her, and the sunshine glancing on and off her as 6ho moved along the woodland path, she looked like a red bird flashing among the trees. "Be 'sure and got back before dark," said Shirley.

The path led near the very tree under which Robert had stood that day a year ago, in the blazing glory of the falling leaves. Could she help lingering under the tree and sighing as she thought of the sweet might have been? Could she help, indeed, wandering on boyond the hill to tho exact spot where tho lost lover bad placed his mother's ring upon her finger and asked licr to wear it always? Tho ring was there still. The turquoise trifle itself thrilled with an electric wave of recollection till sbe felt its pressure on her finger. She could have cried ais she thought of it. Too bad, too bad it wns!

A wild man started up before her. He was hungry, bo was mad with rage against the world. He was wicked. He was fit for deeds of terror. There was a Lucifer liko craco and comeliness about him, too, ns ho flung himself across the way with his swinging arms and gleaming eyes. He stood in front of the girl. His glance roved over her in silence. Her heart beat heavy and fast Her striking, fantastic prettiness, the jewels about her, aroused the evil in the man yet more.

He was a tall, powerful man. She was wholly at his mercy. "How do you do, Rip?" said she faintly. His eyes glowed with devilish glea "How do I do? You'ro interested in my health? It's good, thank you, and all the better of seeing you. You've snubbed mo all your life, Miss, and now I can take ray pay, right here. Hand over that there blue ring."

"HAND OVER THAT BISO."

She hesitated and drew back. "May be you'd like mo to help you? E3n I bo of any assistance to you. Miss?" said be in a mimicking voice, with a diabolical grin.

Ho threw his arm about her. His dirty tattered sleeve chafed her delicate neck. She was enraged, and exclaimed: "How daro your

He gave a short laugh. "Due! Come, that's good. Dare! Is tliero anything & man will do or can do, that 1 wouldn't dare? Do I look like thatf

Brownie was a plucky creature for alL In ber fierce anger at him for touching ber, sbe forgot her prudence She struck him hi the face with all her might One of the rings upon her hand cut his lip till the blood flowed. It enraged him and yet amused him. "Come, band it over," said he. "Ill help you. Lively's the ward."

Ho stripped it off her finger. Thai sbe made as if to go. He seised lier arm again. "Not so fast, my red bird! I wont to look at you close to. How would you like to be marriod to me, Miss?" 8ao shuddered and be laughed. *Et I had my rights, Pd be a gentleman, and as good as yon. El Fd bad the raisin' I'd 'a been tbo biggest nob of Ysu all Wbcse wife would yoa 'a been then? Hks Brownie —yooM 'a been my wife!"

She shuddcml again. «I see: you'd sootier touch a dead cat nor nwi, I most wish I could kill you. I'd do it with a good will, if I couJd."

She gavo a scream of terror. "Never fesa*, my rod bird," said Rip. Tm not going to. I was going to. But I cant YoaVe got enough gold and swag about yon to keep a poor man like me A year. I meant to take that, too. But I cant tooch Ik I dont know why I dant, bat I doot Only this ring tbe Englishman put on TOUT finger. Tbat you'll never assassin."

Ha lo|n|rd •"d struck his bed fnfr» tbe earth, enraged. Then be warned to

cool

down

TURD AY EVENING

*No, Miss Brownie, I cant hurt you, and you may thiffik your stars for it You go freo for all me. But some time, when you are rich.and happy anti 'married to tbe Englishman curse him!—I say think of this day in ther wooda.

r^Bemember

that Rip, the

tnunp, might have rribbted you, might have murdered you and wo$se, but did not Wbyf Becjinsc, Miss Brownie, he loved you, loved even bettclrthan tbe Englishman did."

CHAPTER XEX.

THEY ICR OWCK MOBS.

There was one who had' heard Brownie's cry. Black Sam was crossing the woods toward home. Sam was past 70 now, and bent and feeble, but ho run up valiantly when he heard the shriek. He saw Rip's hand laid upon Brownie. He thought she was being murdered.

He had an ax on his shoulder. Old as he was, be would have cleft the tramp's skull in a moment, but tho fellow saw tho descending ax and caught it. He let the girt go and laid hold of tho negro. "Run, Miss Brownie," cried old Sam.

Brownie was still wild with terror. She vras an unreasoning creature at best She gave in to the moment's impulcs, and ran as Sam told her.

Tbe tramp tried to shake off tbe negro. "Let me go!" be muttered, in a rage. "Let me go, or Til murder ou."

But Sam clung about him with a hampering hold, and kept him back. It roused all the fury in him. Ho doubled his fist, and gave Sam a stunning blow. Tho black roan fell like a stono and lay still. "There: said the tramp.

Two men m?t Brownie as she ran. No sooner did she catch sight of one of these two th«n she ftt'-g her arms around bis net-kin on agony of fright and ecstasy of relief. Sbo cuddled down against bis breast as if he was tho last man on earth and she never meant to lot him go.

Truly sho nover did. Was he not Robert Edgerly, her repentant, returning lover? Tho other man was her brother Harry, now a well grown youth of 10. Thoy had come to look for her. There were Harry's ntyong and willing arms for her to fling horsolf into, and Harry was tho dearest brother she had.

(Yet

she ran past bim and flung herself frantically upon a young man sho had quarreled with, and who was no kin to her at all. Truly, girls are queer.

At sight of them Rip disappeared. It was as if he had dropped through tbo ground. Robert and Harry searched all about Tbat night tho neighborhood men scoured the woods for him. They never found bim.

Sam was alive but unconscious when they canto to him. Ho was old, black and ignorant, and timid and weak, yet he was as true a hero, true a knight of chivalry as ever breathed. Ho gave his life to succor fair lady in distress.

Tho faithful soul never camo to his senses. His head struck a s.'one as he fell under the blow from Rip's fist He breathed on unconsciously for two hours. Then—another link was broken that bound the Carstoncs to their vanished childhood. Ho was buried in tho Carstone graveyard, not far from the master to wboso children he lind. been so faithful. Many is the timo Sam had said: "I alius wanted a big funeral. It is 'spcctable like, as if a man wt a gen'lman of consequence. When I dio it'd bo a comfort to me to know de fust familios all turned out and helped lay de old man away."

If he could have known it, Sam had bis wish to his lioart'o content Tho first fatnilies turned out in mass and followed him to his grave. Could l:c havo known it, lie would have considered his fuperal a credit to the Carstone family.

It was some days before Brownie got back •her spirits. She was pale and weak, and easily startled* And now the Englishman proved how gentio and devoted ho could bo.

Ho showed beyond a doubt that ho both could and did see whether a lady was comfortable or not. When tho neighbors gathered at Sam's funeral, iu tho kindly country fashion, Edgerly took his place with the Carstones beside Brownie, as if bo bad a right there.

Then aftorward, when Brownio wus b3ginning to be herself again, he staid later than usual one evening. When he went away he boldly kissed ber good night before all. the

Brownio blushed and pouted slightly and drew back. "Oh, como now," said lie. "When a young lady throws herself into a man's arms in the presence of a third party, you know"

Brownio. was suppressed. Then bo went away for a few days. "What havo youdono with your forget menot ring, Brownie?" bo asked W'hen be came back. ., v3i -4. "It'sgono,"she answered mournfully. "I wore it all the samo and never took it off. But I was robbed of it that day—that day"-*-— "Oh, well, dont mind about it"

Next there was silcncc. Robort broke it, with a remark as follows, to wit:

havo been away from Englann a year and a half. If I don c« out of this heathenish country soon, I shall forget bow civilized people eat"

Brownie looked up. "I'm going back lit January, going home to stay this time." **•.

Brownie gave a start "You'll break your heart about me,

know, if I leavo you here." "Dont you think you area little mean to say that?" she asked. "So I suppose I shall have to take you over to England with mo."

Which ho did. She made him as sweet, as true a wife, yea, and as'fair and bright, as ever graced a statoly home

For Shirley, the faithful, the untiring, her existence moved on as though life was never, nover to end for her. Sbo worked imd thought for tbcm all, and for overyboay, without a stopping or breathing space. Between herself and Brownie's husband a tto of friendship grew that became only stronger as he was older. She had not a brother by blood whose devotion to ber tras enthusiastic as Robert* One's familiars and kin are often tho ones who are tbo most blind to the best tbat is in fcim. It was surely so with Shirley, wbo was use4 to make so little of herself*

She bad not tbe leisure to begin her poem as yet Not yet. .. The power ber father and the master discerned in ber had its forced development in other ways than tbey had thought The mother and younger children ramainod still to be worked for. Sbe and they bad still to live from bond to mouth.

So newspaper woman she was and remained. Bu* she degraded ber calling to no raesmor spiteful or shallow ends. Longfelicm frdfr how tbe mechanic Albrocht Durer, with his stylos, cang tbe nobility of labor to tbo rich and stupid Nuremberg^* till be startled tbern from their bouieeoise content. Shirley sang the same song with ber pea. It waa a pen that cut through the transient down to the eternal good and truth that are tbe only abiding realities Sbe sang tbe north of wfao work, the ladyhood and genttomanbood tbat are above and greater than the accident of occupation, er of wealth and poverty. To be sincere, to be

gentle and jnsfc

and helpful to others, to spend tims Inlearnfnd only the tbat

are worth knowing—

ti* was the golden song at SWrlaj* pen.

MATT.

So sbe kept her life high and valiant She was not unhappy in those years. The busy are never wholly miserable. If only .she could, have pMxred'^out her thoughts in the maa4clons poertt that^ad^&orared in her brain SO long she could have quite (Ait the old sorrows aside. As the years went on, she conldfevcn have pome at last to regard as comedy the tragcdjrVif bqr life. Toiling^with enthusiasm' at tbd"worl! one has choSen is greather than happiness or riches—yea, greater than love itself.

As it was, though, her life was so hard, so different from all she bad planned or dreamed of, twenty years before. Robert Edgerly came faithfully over the water to see ber every year or two, sometimes with Brownie, sometimes without Once, too, the charming old father came, and his visit was like an oasis in her desert of toil.

One winter, when Shirley went to Washington for The. Morning Herald, Robert Edgerly went with her. She was now a distinguished newspaper woman. Her description of events was at once brilliant and accurate. Unmoved at all times by the glories of tbe reign of bosh everywhere about her, sbo saw fact, and kept to it

The rising star in American politics at this time was a congressman from a western state. He was not precisely what we call a man of the people, though he had made his Own way .in the world. But it was a poor way as far as getting riches wus concerned. He might have become wealthy a .dozen times, but ho held in burning contempt the methods of enriching himself which come so easy to many men in public life. He was a man incorruptible by money in any shape. There had been that in his life which made the ease and wealth men sighed for, to be no more than vile dross for bim. What did he care for money?

In this country a poor man must be a powerful man intellectually, and have very winning ways to impress himself sufficiently on his fellow freemen to get their votes in the boginning. They demand cither uncommon talont and honesty or uncommon wealth, ono or tbe other.

Tho powerful brain, tho winning ways tho new represontativo of the peoplo had. He was known to havo sprung from tho so called upper rank of lifa He was a person of the highest culture, and of wido knowledge of men. At the samo time there was an air about bim that somewhat warned off the commonplace and the vulgar curious from approaching him familiarly. In brief, he was not ono on whom you would advance without an introduction, and say in our frank and beautiful American way: "Say, mister, what, might your business be?"

He lost his first eledtion through a small circumstance. Ho ordered a broiled beefsteak at a little rustic wayside inn. His opponent got wind of it and played it upon a thousand strings, till the independent voters rose ton man and said: "Wo'll havo no sich stuck up 'ristacrat holdin' offico in this deestrick. A man tbat fried beefsteak ain't good enough fur, ain't good enuf fur us. Let him go somewhere else with them monarchial ideesl"

Tliis unlucky mistake was, however, forgiven him in time. He possessed spleudid ability he was truo as steel. He had a clour, high-minded scorn of crooked ways and political dickering that worked against him at first. In time, though, as always, this very quality counted in his favor, and then he had all his own way. More than all, the new man was a matchless orator. He carried men's heists in his hand by the power of his eloquence.

Shirley had beard of bim frequently, and he of her. Their two atmospheres had widened and widened till at last they touched. "I hear," said her brother Robort ono day, "that your great Congressman Dumoray is to speak to-morrow. Do you know, bim, Shirley?"

"I met hitn—once, some years ago, answered Shirley calmly. "Your people seem to lie losing their heads about him. Is ho such great things as they say!" "I den't know," Shirley answered, still more calmly. "I don't know onough about him to say. That awful roverenco for officials, even tho highest, that Rome people have, in a general way I never did feel, and never o.xpcct to." "Whyf»

"Why? Becsuse 1 know bow tbey are mado."1 Philip Diimoray had gono back to his western home and plunged into political life. It3 feverish excitements, its very hazards and wild uncertainties suited him. On his side, too, there was something to be overlived, a burning heartache, a haunting pain and regret that must bo deadened ere peace camo again. The very knowledge that, in political life, to-day he might be upon the crest of the top wavo of popular favor and to-morrow in the trough of tbo sea, drew bim strongly. It gavo him intenso and constant mental occupation. Ho welcomed it as one in fever welcomes tho cool, saft breeze from the sea. no could dispose of his life as be pleased. He had only himself to think of. As between his fate and Shirley's be had far the best of it

Philip Dumoray was tbe champion of a new movement in American politics, a movement which has for its aim tbe rights of man as the father's meant them when they founded this government Tho simplo announcement that ho was to speak drew a great throng to tho house.

Tho galleries were crowded with ladies, many of them in bright dresses and bats, contrasting finely with the dark fiabit of their escorts. Dumoray was to present a great memorial from tbe people to their representatives in congress. There was a buzz of expectation as the band of the ball clock pointed to tbo hour.

Shirley sat in her place, the faithful English brother by her Eide. A man entered quietly, tall and commanding, of superb physical presence and perfect grace of manner.

The buzz broke into a volume of soafid. Shirley's eyes swam in a mist Her heartthrobs thick and fast Sbo clutched tbe wpod of the seat till it made her liand ache, afterwards. Sbe sat as motionless and silent as if sbe bad been marble.

Ah! He fascinated ber still, and so many years bad pawed tbat at last this weak minded woman bad quite forgiven bim.

He smiled and bowed to tbosa about bim, and then sat down grave and a little pale, perhaps, bat qatet and at ease. Sbiriey saw him plainly. His hair was wbito now, thi"k and clustering still, yet snow white. Butt'so strangely brilliant dark gray eyes were the some, tbo lofty, ideal face turned toward tbe throng was tbe same. High, generous thought and deed keep tbe human ince forever beautiful.

He sat end looked straight before bim. A bandtoocbed his arm. Some notes and dispatches woe given him. One of tbe notes read: "Permit an old friend to congratulate you very sincerely, and to wkh you socceat. "SHIBLEY CABSTOSX."

Then it was tbe tarn of somebody else to start, with a great heart beat, and as suddenly fall back intostObma.

He folded thelitis white paper smoothly and pot it into his breast pocket, If his band trembled sligbUy, nobody kaaw it TJ»e

shining, oagle-lilce glance roamed over the galleries aimlessly, it seemed, but in reality looking for her who was still the one woman of all |h» world to Philip Dumoray.

He found her. It rtlay be that some subtle soul telegraph sent messages froipper to him. It may be that the invisible sliver line between them had never beep broken, in spite bf all t(nd of ail these years S A silent, thrilling ftok offrocognition4Jassed between the two. It was only for on instant, and none saw it but themselves. Yet in that lightning Hash there was inspiration for him, there was—God knows what for her. She could not have told herself, only that sbe saw him onco more.

Dumoray had never spoken before as he did that day. Tbey said his speech was such that it carried even those who wero opposed to him off' their feet

He was a master in the use of simple, direct Anglo-Saxon, and at tho samo time bis language was perfect in its grace and polish. His voice was a ringing music every sentence told liko a hammer stroke. His speech stirred tho blood and thrilled tho heart Ifc was one of those marvelous orations to which the scholar and the unlettered man listened with like enthusiasm.

He grew more and more impassioned as he went on, till the vast audienco were fascinated and melted as one man. Sounds of applause, which could not be quite checked oven there, interrupted him at short intervals, so that he waited a little for it to subside. Evormore in these pauses the starlike eye sought Shirley's, the grand head turned unconsciously toward where she sat And none knew it but Sbiriey. As for her she listened with beating heart and shining eyes, her thought repeating constantly: --"It's just what I would have said myself, the very words."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A Captain'» Dlxeovery. Cnpt. Coleman, selir. Woymoth, plying between Atlantic City and N. Y., had been troubled with a couch so that he was unable to sleep, and was induced to try Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption. It not only gave him instant relief, but allayed the extremo sorenoss in the breast. His children were similarly affected and a single dose had the same happy effect. Dr. King's Now Discovery is now the standard remody in the Coleman household and on board the schooner. Freo trial bottle of this Standard Romedy at Cook, Bell fc Lowry's Drug Store. (4).

Reiiewn Her Youth.

Mrs. Phoebe Cheslev, Peterson, Clay Co.," Iowa, tells the following remarkable story, the truth of which Is vouched for by the residents of the town: "I am years old, have been troubled with kidney complaint and lameness for many years could not dress myself without help. Now 1 am free from all pain and soreness, and am able to do all my own housework. I owe iny thanks to Electric Bitters for having renewed my youth and removed completely all disease and pain, a bottle, only oO cents, at Cook,,Holle and Loury's Drug store. (4)

Buckleu's Arnica .Salve.

T&oTiest Salve In the world for Cuts, Bruises,' Sores, Ulcers, Salt Rheum. Fever Mores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and all skin eruptions, and positively cures Piles, or no pay required. It is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. 25c. per box. For sale by Cook A Bell. (tf.)

JjX)R DYSPEPSIA,

Mental and Physical Exhaustion,

Nervousness, Weakened Energy,

INDIGESTION,

ACID PHOSPHATE

tr A liquid preparation of the phosphates and phosphoric

*1 -s

S.U, M..JV

f-j.

.i *4.4

ecommended by

cians. ..ft?*#

physi

ft, «,»*-! 'Jt*. 4

It maKes a delicious drinK. Invigorating and strengthening. Pamphlet free.

For sale by all dealers

I 7

Rumford Chemical Works. Providence. R.

IJKWAItE OF IMITATIONS.

i' I

'Jr. -i S j[

STATEOK OHIO, CITY OK TOI.KDO,) LT'CAH COT'NTY, H. H. FKANK J. CHBSKY makes oath that he Is the senior partner of the 'J'"' firm of F. .T. CHKNKY & Co., doing business in the City of Toledo.

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County nnd State aforesaid, nnd that said firm will pay the sum of ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS ciich and every case of CATARRH/or that ran not foe cured by the use of HAU'H CATARRH CI*KF„

FRANK J. CHENEY.

Sworn to before me and subscrlled In my presence, this fltb day of December, A. J).. Wl.

A. W. GLEAHON,

•j NKAL Notary Public.

pTa Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken Internally and acts directly uron the blood and mucus surfaces of the system. Send for testimonials, free. F. J. CH EN

KY A CO.. Toledo, Ohio,

•arfjold by drugging, 75 cent*,

Malaria, Dumb Chills, Fever and Ague, Wind Colic, Bilious Attacks.

Tbey prepare reenter, ••tarsi wse. satlMH, sever ffipeor Interfere dally bealseis. Ass fsnlly medicine, tfcejr efcenM tee In every bott»ekoll.

SOLD EVERYWHERE*

Manhood

liaprtwesmcsastar ton Dw*jr.N«r.

I Mtu»c« to C.

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