Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 21, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 November 1887 — Page 8

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3 :l

THEJMA.IIi

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

Complete

Missun-

derstanding.

Continued from Becond page.

l7ved~inT"The difterencc"ln~tbeir ages causing him no uneasiness. It wan Homething he had never realized. He thought vaguely that bis brother would be surprised when he knew all that he hoped but with all Colonel Brennan's unconsciousness of her beauty and charm, and his romantic devotion to his first love, Julian thought that he must feel what seemed to him inifred P®1"" fection, and that his happiness wotiid be a happiness to his brother.

AH be lay thero he becamo aware of a presence near by. Winifred Sanford moved slowly across the grass toward him, and stood looking down at him.

He tried to get up, but she motioned him to keep his position, and Hat down beside him, leaning against the haystack. He raised himself on his elbow -and watched her in that nosition. She wore a large straw bat, tied down with a ile flotvored ribbon. There was less of inajestv and more of yielding tenderness in her beauty than inuial. "What did you do with my picture, she asked "mother wants to see it. "Not yet." he answered, pleadingly. "In a day or so I will." ••You paint very well, she said. "If* the best thing I've ever done. It imi't anv wonder—you've inspired me. I've planned a dozen pictures since I ve lain here. You will see how my pictures will soil now/'

She regarded him seriously her shadow eves. Why do you sell your pictures when vou aro rich?" she asked.

A .slight shadow crossed Julian face. "I wonder what put that into your head? I have hardly a cent in the world beyond what Dick gives me. Dick has all" the money ho"* made no end of tnonev in the west, and although lies very generous to me can expect fo live on him always. Its quite possible that somo day ho might want to IIIHIIV again. I have my profession I *|io.il\ln't be quite grovellingly poor without Dick, but I shall never be rich.

Winifred listened attentively, but without anv change ol expression, lhe shadow passed from Julian's face as he watched her. She seemed by reason or her exquisite serenity to be raised above the consideration of such accidents as poverty or wealth.

Julian leaned toward her. "Winifred," he almost whispered. A loud voice broke the silence. "Winifred!" nil led old Han font from tin, orchard, "your ma savs please come to the hoiim* fllreetly and it my iirtv Ice, Mr. Hrennan, that jou come in shortly. Weather's changing, and there going to be a tempest pretty soon, or my name ain't ll'v.ekiah Sanford."

Winifred stood up. "Pont go. I beg vou," said Julian ardently want to speak to you. I have something to say

l'li. rone also, and caught ono of her bands in both his, with a rapid, involuna she nuletly drew her hand away. "I must go now."

I'ell me that I may hope! lie

,'f)ed.

She smiled vaguely. "If you like to hope, vou may." .... With these words she left him. He did not attompt t- follow her, but stood watching her, wit l« all the hope and passion of a tlrst love in his young face, lie flung himself on ti.e ground again, with »ui Inarticulate mi., mur.

The slight breease died away entirely, and tho air becamo oppressively still. In the almost sutlocating quietness Julia n\s confused thoughts became vague and peaceful. He lay bathed in dreamlike expectancy for a long time, while ih« skv darkened with leaden clouds, and the twilight Tell rapidly, lhe wind i..s«., blowing in fitful gusts, then sinking i.ito stillness once more.

When Colonel Hrcnnan came in from shooting, it was already quite dark, and one or two great drop9

Hli

reached the farm house. Mrs. Han ford io«»l on the porch watching tho coming storm with a scared face.

is an as an xi

"Now, don vou worry, ho'sall right! she exclaimed. "I see him go up to his room awhile ago, before tho storm eame up, and Just now, when I wont up there to see what I would make him for bis supper, his door was locked, so I didn't disturb him. I thought likely lie was resting. Winifred was Hskin me just now, too, and I told her I never sf»e anything like the way you two folks take on alnntt that boy."

Colonel Brennan's face lost It* anxious look. He followed Mrs. Sanford Into the sitting-room. "Will vou tell vour daughter that

would like to speak to her for a few minutes, If she will come here," ho said "I shall consider It a favor."

Something In his grave manner seemed to impress Mrs. Sanford. "Oh, the awful!" sho said, abruptly "yes, I'll toll her." She lighted the lamp on tho table, and precipitately left the room.

With the tlrst violent shower of rain Julian roused himself, chilled and startled. His first .sensation was on© of profound loneliness. This feeling deepened as he struggled with difficulty, alntost blinded by the blasts of wind and rain, toward tho farm house, guided in the darkness bv the lights In the windowAs ho cared it there was no signs of any uneasiness or search for blm. He heard Mrs. Sunford's voice In the kitchen in conversation with Lucinda. At length he reached the house and leaned against the frame of of the parlor window, un able to go farther, his heari_boating vlolv frc

Sanford He could see both their faces and in spite of the roar of the wind their words reached distinctly through the open window. "i can't givo you mv first love, nis brother was saying. "I suppose that is over for both of us. but I can Shy® J®® a loyal affection and trust. I will do all in mv power to make you happy. This is not said to Influence you—I know that It could not—but everything that money can do to make vour life a pleasant and easy one shall be done. What do vou sav? lie waited gravely for her answer.

A triumphant smlio came over Winifred's face. "I mr yes," she answered rtrmly, looking him straight into his eye*.

Colonel 1 Iron nan took one of b*r bauds la his, ami bending down, klswd it, not tenderly, but gratefully. "You have made me very happy, and now you must help mo make Julian ha^py^' he said.

h«id none

lieee words Winifred turned her aside, but her smile lost lutnph. ._.ened the life seemed to go

•eat of Julian body, and to rush

back

with indignant strength. He staggered away from the window and rawed blindly through the darkness not knowing wnere he went. The fury of the storm was an outlet for the burning

Sim.

rief and dismay that panted within He flung his arms up, with a

groan which

and whirled away, almost before it was uttered, and stumbling, he fell heavily, striking his head against the gnarled trunk of a tree. He lay motionless, while the storm raged over him. The volume of steadily descending rain seemed limitless. The minutes lengthened into hours before the blasts of wind and rain had spent their strength. They gradually decreased until there was silence, except when a soft shiver of wind In the branches of the trees cause a quick patter of rain-drops on the dead leaves which covered the ground.

The moon piercea through the trees, touching with her pale bght the dark shadow under them that still lay motionless.

With the moonlight came voices, bnt there was no answering voice to guide them to him whom they sought.

The next day Colonel Brennan sat by his brother's bed, where the young man lay. a mere shadow of life. Since they had found hiin the night before,*he had lain thus-still, white, unconscious. After one glance, the doctor, who had been summoned in haste from the villi age, had told them that he was dying. The reasons that he gave were many and conclusive. but to Colonel Brennan the one inevitable fact was surllcent.

The strong man leaned over Julian in helpless agony. "Julian!" he implored, "what does it mean? I can't understand it! Don't leave me. I was going to make you so happy. Speak to me only once!"

For a moment there was only silence. The bright afternoon sunlight filled the room as Julian's eyes opened slowly, as if stirred from his lethargy by his brother's penetrating appeal.

Winifred Sanfordrs portrait, standing on the mantle opposite, was the first thing the young man's eyes rested upon. Warm and glowing in the mellow light, to his numbed senses it was no semblance, but an exquisite reality.

He held out his hands with momentary strength and passion. Winifred, Winifred—I love you!" he murmured. Then his eyes closed again.

Colonel Bronnan caught the words, His face became white. "Oh God!" was forced from his lips. "It can't bo that Julian!—it can't be—•"

At these words Julian's eyes opened again, and this timo there was a singularly lucid expression in their depths— a look full recollection and intellegence. "It's just as well that I'm going, dear old fellow," he murmured. "It has all been a iflistake.

Ho relapsed into unconsciousness and in the night passed quietly out of life.,

Two weoks later Richard Brennan and Winifred Sanford were married at the little Methodist church of Granfieid. They wore to go to Now York immediately aftor their marriage, and from there to sail for Europe. Winifred looked supremely content, but Colonel Brennan wero a' battled, haggard air. His manner to his wife was kind, but he seotned to shrink from the congratulations of those of the Sanfords' friends who came to tho wedding, filled with Mattering curiosity.

As Mr. and Mrs. Sanford drove home in the two-steated wagon, after parting with their daughtor, Mr. Sanford said, with a rueful sigh: "Winifred's quiet, maybe, but its going to be a long sight quieter without her."

His brother's dead, but that ain't all," Mrs. Sanford replied, with more than her usual irrelevancy. "Well, Winifred 11 get on anyhow! She quiet all the way through she don't feel much. She has made a raise and no mistake but I dunno as I ever see a bridegroom look as mortal miserable as that ono did today."

[COPYRIGHTED.]

Walter Brownfield

—on—

THE MYSTERY OF PRESTON FLAT.

BY JOHN R. MUSICK.

CITAPTBIl IV. BIt.L SIAHTIS.

Two weeks of farm drudging had passed. John Miles, the tireless young farmer, and Walter Brown field had been comrades in labor. Walter bad grown sunburned, and his once soft hands had become hardened with toil. Those who had predicted that the pale slender youth could not endure the fatigues of farm work, little knew tho power of endurance in that delicate frame.

Corn cutting was over, but the plowing and sowing of winter wheat and general run of chores kept the "bojs and hired hands of Mr. Miles busy.

Walter loarned that labor was not to be dreaded so much as he had supposed. Ben Miles, with his droll wit, lightened their hours of toil. Tho youth found that he could sleep sweeter after a hard day's work, and each morning awoke with renewed strength and vigor.

He was intrusted with a team and permitted to do somo of the lighter work, suofi as hauling from one portion of the farm to another.

It was a rule of Mr. MileS, as it should be of every good farmer, to lay in his supply of winter wood in lhe autumn. His vast forest land furnished fuel, and John and Ben Miles, being most expert with an axe, were to fell the trees, and cut them into slicks the proper size for the wagon, while Waiter was to haul them to the house. Walter found this labor even pleasant. To see the great horses display their giant strength in drawing heavy loads of wood was enough to excite the admiration and wonder of any admirer of horse flesh.

One day he was returning from the forest with a large load of wood on his wagon. The path he was traveling was what be called a "woods road," or sometimes a "blind road." It was used only in drawing wood from the forest, which was about once a year. The remainder of the time it was permitted to grow in weeds mad brush.

rnp

Walter's mind had reverted to his

life. and to one sad event especialHe began to feel that he was a mystery to the good people among whom he was thrown. His past history he could not reveal without a bluish upon his cheek.

In this rural district as a farm hand he hoped to live in qu:ct seclusion free from the rite slanders of the busy world. He felt that his qoiet uriaseumIng manners were winning a place to the hearts of the people with whom his lot was cast He could be happy here

v.*

loud

was

caught by the wind

if he oouid only forget the bitter wrong that had been done him. Bnt, try at he would, the recollection of it was ever not that the memory of the wrong remained at his breast, bnt with a feeling of sorrow, regret and humiliation: Other emotions stirred his soul at times. The story might follow him and the humiliation would be ten-fold greater. The wealthy farmer would either discharge him'and send him once more on his wanderings or else he would be ostracised by the family circle and regarded with suspicion. This he could not brook, and he had determined in case of such discovery to once more go into voluntary exile.

Prouiu, U1V IWUIICVMUU VI uppermost in his mind. It wsi with a degree of hatred or malic*

A man came out of the woods and stood in the road a few rods in advance of the horses. He was a burly fellow, strong, heavy-set, with dark tangled hair and short beard. A face that indicated long exposure to wind and weather, also that the possessor of it was addicted to strong drink. He was dressed in a rough garb, half farmer and half tramp. His pantaloons were patched ou the knees, and his weatherbeaten hat had a hole in the crown. He was certainly not very prepossessing in his appearance, and a character no one would care to meet in a lonely forest road.

Walter trembled in spite of himself. Although there was nothing apparently hostile about the man, he dreaded meeting him. The meeting could not be averted, for the stranger coolly folded his arms on his breast and waited till the team came up. There was a grin on the stranger's face which he intended for an assuring smile. "Good morninY' said the strange man, his grin deepening as the team halted opposite him. "Good morning, sir," returned Walter. "Pleasant day fur teamin'!" "Very good, sir," said Walter. "You work for Mr. Miles, I guess?" 4Yg8 sir." "Yer name's Walter BrownfieldP" "Yes, sir, and as you know mine, will you be so kind as to inform mo what yours is?" "I am' Bill Martin, an' I work for Jack Hawkins, who lives on the farm jinin' with Mr. Miles on the road to Bushville." "I am glad to get acauainted with you, Mr. Martin," said Walter, "but you must excuse me now as mv time is not my own I must be going. "Hold don't be in a hurry, Walter," said Bill, extending one hand toward the bit of the horse nearest him, "them animals is tired, so ye better let 'em blow or old Miles '11 cuss a streak."

Walter, who was in the act of starting up the team, paused and gazed it wonder at the man. Bill, with than strange grin on his face, said: "Ye come from Queenstown, didn't jre?"

Y-yes," stammered the youth, turnale and trembling. idn't you used to clerk for Brewster." For a moment Walter was wholly unable to answer, but at length stammered.

"I-I did."

"I thought you was the samo 'un," and tho grin deepened on Bill's face. An awkward silence followod, Walter looked helpless, as though he would fall from tho wagon, and Bill Martin gazed on him as a bird of prey might gaze on a victim in easy roach. At length Walter determining to know tho worst, .summoned up all his resolution and asked: "Arc

you

an officcrP"

Bill

sliook

his head.

"A detective then? If so, there is no need of quizzing me. If the law wants mc at Queenstown I am ready to go.

Bill laughed a loud, coarse laugh. "Do I look liko an officer, or a detectiveP Ila! ha! l.a! Well that's a good 'un." "Then, sir, ko so kind as to explain yourself" said Walter, with no little confusion. "I'll do it, youngster," said Bill, approaching confidentially near the

iis

outh, and laying the fore finger of right hand in the palm of his left, ho spoke in low tones, while his left foot rested on tho hub of the wagon wheel. "Yon see Walter I am not the man to squeal on a fellow who gets in trouble an' has to leave his town or country on acoount of it but I'd rather take em by the hand and help'em along." "I do not understand you yet," continued Walter. "Well, then," said Bill, "I'll be as plain as I can but you must give mo time. You know you used to live in Queenstown P" "I did." "And ye clerked in Joe Brewster's storeP1' "Yes, sir, I did." it

It required all his firmness to answer that nuestion •Well, only a few weeks ago money was missin' from the drawer.' "Such was evidently the case,'* said Walter, hotly, "but I still declare my innocencc as I did then the accusation against me was wrong, I swear it! and why I should be

TERRS HAUTE SATURDAY EVifiNTEfG

minted

and

haunted with a crime I never committed "Hold on, youngster," interrupted Bill. "I am not a huntin', nor hauntin' ye about it, but jest mention this matter, ye know, to prove that I know ye. Ye see I'm from Queenstown myself, and heerd all about this, but ye bet I'm not the fellow to give a pal away. When I soes a young man in misfortune, think it my place to take him by the hand an' help Kim up an' not give him a kick." "I have been very unjustly accused/' said Walter, with a downcast look. "They failed to make a case of embexslement against me, but it ruined my reputation so that for five hundred miles around 1 could not get employment again. But I am innocent. I •wear, I am innocent." "In coarse ve are. I like to hear ye say so," said Bill, with atone and grin that the inexperienced Walter eocdd not understand. "Did yon live in Queenstown at the timer' asked Walter. "Well, no, not eggsactly. Ye see I*m a kind o' a rovin' chap. I'm everywhere, and know every bod[y. and every thing." "Why did yoa stop me Iters to mention so disagreeable a subject?" •/To bell ye that I know n' to

J*f ai ii-"it" 'i yiMgi'w iwaimii

telly* 1 was ver friend, ye bet. I'll nevergo back on* ye for any thing in the past, ole boy, bnt stick to ye like a leecL"

Bill paused and smiled, and winked in a manner that puzzled Walter. "How long have you been working for Mr. Jack Hawkins?" asked Waiter. "About three years? Do ye know Jack?" "No, sir." "Well, sir, ye ought to. Jack is a jolly fellow game. too. He never deserts a friend and is as brave as a lion." "I have only heard him spoken of incidentally," said Walter, still puzzled at the manner of Bill Martin. "Does old Miles give any holidays?" "He has not yet I have only been working for him two weeks." "Not a Saturday afternoon?" -vl "No, sir." •Then he's an old .tyrant Now, young chap," said Bill, more mysterious than ever, "I have got more friends here. I want you to form their acquaintance. They are all jolly good fellows, know how to keep their own secrets, are brave and stick together. We are a kind o' brotherhood, ye know. I want you to see us and be one o' us. Will ye come an' see us when ye kin?"

Walter, though completely thunderstruck, assented, and then drove on, while Bill, with a series of grins and winks, retired into the woods. Little did Walter Brownfield dream of the terrible character of the brotherhood alluded to by Bill Martin, or the trial it would cause him.

CHAPTER V.

JOHN MILKS' DIFFICULTIES.

Walter Brownfield was soon on Intimate terms with the family of Mr. Miles. His urbane air and good sense were features especially attractive. Mr. Miles had many intricate business affairs that he was in the habit of going to Bushville and paying a lawyer to attend to, which nis hired hand could accomplish equally as well. "You seem pretty good in figgers," said the farmer one day, "to save me I can't figger up the interest" "Thavs an easy matter," said Walter, with a smile, as he took up one of the notes and glanced over it Computing interest nad been his trade for so long that a note in partial payments seemed like an old friend. "Pinkey counted it up, but I am afraid she was not right," said the farmer.

Mr. Miles, like all successful business men, was particular to have all tho interest his note called for.

Walter spread the note out beforo him on a table, took a pencil and paper, and in a few moments had the correct answer. "That is just what Pinkey made it," said the farmer. "Sho was correct, then," said the' youth, and he proceeded to explain every thing in connection with computation of interest and deduction of partial payment's. "Try tho others," said the farmer, "an' 11 call Pinkey in to see if that is the way sho docs it"

Pinkey, with her beautiful form and face, high forehead and large dark eyes, entered at hor father's call. Her appearance made Walter a little nervous, and he was far more liable to make mistakes than if sho had not been present

He explained his method to her, and at the conclusion he informed the farmer that his daughter knew as much about it as himself. Pinkey smiled a sweet, gracious smile, and Mr. Miles said she was the only one of his children "who'd take to book larnin'." "I think, sir, you can always safely rely on her calculations," said Walter, as the girl retired to her room.

It was not only in affairs ol interest, but in all business matters, that the farmer found his hired hand proficient In commerci .1 law, of trade, rules of finance, the important political questions cf the ay, Walter to the Miles family seemed thorough. "If I only knowed what you know,1 said John Miles one day, with a sigh, "It 'nd relieve me of a deal of trouble." "I should like to help you all I can what is the trouble with you?" asked Walter.

The speakers were alone in the hayloft reclining on the fresh mown hay. The manger had been filled with hay and the horses below were crunching their oats and corn with an occasional wisp of hay to give variety to the meal.

At Walter's question John roiied his giant form over until he lay upon his back. "I don't know if ye could help me or not if ye'd try," he said.

I might but I assure you it will be miracle for me to help you unless I know wherein you require aid."

I want to learn to talk," said John. "You can talk." "Yes, I know I can talk. So can a goose swim an' fly, but not like a bird or fish. I'm awkward an' I know that I don't tell things right" said John, with a blush on his face.

Your language could be improved some," said Walter, with a smile "Wall, that is just what I want to learn. How is people to improve their language when a feller's got no teacher? said John. •'You could teach yourself, or 1 could instruct you: but, John, why have you so recently found yourself defective in the art of speech.

Mid

why this sudden

notion to improve?" John rubbed the perspiration from bis brow and said: "Cause I want to be as I kin talk to anybody, it makes no difference who it is a—a man, or a

Them Bushville fellers kin talk sir grammar and git away with a feller. "I rather suspect that there is some young lady with whom yoa wish to convene," said Walter, smiling.

John brushed his florid face with the sleeve of his shirt and, after a momentary pause, said: **May be it's so, and may oei taint" •"Admit the truth of it John,0 said Walter. "Is there not some young lady in Bushville for whose sake von want to polish np your language?'

John turned his face to tbc wall and said, in an awkward way: "Well, then, what ef there was, an' whatef die lived in Bushville an' her name was Susie Black, could yoa help feller any?" "I might," said Walter, with a

MAIL.

smile. "Then you've got the hull secret my case." "You want to cultivate your language then, so that in conversing with Miss Black you may oone with those young men at Bushville.' "That's jist it" said John, turning his face toward Walter. "Ye see them Bushville chaps just take the shine out o' a feller thats been raised among horses, oxen and mules." "All right John," Walter answered. ••Now, in the first place, let me criticise you somo in your pronunciation."

Hold on there," said John, "what do ye mean by them big words?" Criticise means to judge, to examine and point out your faults." •'Yes, in course," said John, who hardly understood Walter yet "You are in the habit of calling a girl a gaL" "Aiirt that right?" "No, you should never use it." ••I won't then." "You seem deficient in grammar you frequently use the objective 'them' in the nominative case." "Yes," said John, floundering in a sea of uncertainty as to tho meaning of his tutor. "You do not seem to know tiiat the verb must agree with tho noun in number and person, and frequently use a plural noun as subject and singular verb "Hold on, hold on," said John, reaching out his hand despairingly. "I'm afraid ye're given me tqp big a dose to take all to onc't" "Why, I've not given yqu any thing yet" "Then I'd better give it up. I can't learn all that in a lifetime. I kin stand sense talk, but when it comes to nouns by plural and singular, I cave in. Pinkey kin learn all about them things, but I never will I hafco 'em. The teacher flogged mo six times one day, cos Ididn know what a noun was, and I've hated the thing ever since. Darn a noun, I want nothing to do with 'em."

Walter smiled and said: "But John don't you love Susio Black?" •, "I do, by Jupiter, I do!" "Will you not put yourself to some inconvenience for hor sake?" "I will, you bet I will." W "Do you not wish to speak as correctly as those young fellows at Bushville, tho clcrks, tho bankers and a or a & "Ya's." "Then why not ^"Iwill."

Walter now saw it once that Johns teacher had made a mistako in giving him abstract rules, so he commenccd to give him object lessons. Ho showed him the difference between false and correct sentences, commencing with the most simple "I are" and "I am," were explained to John, and "they are," showing him practically that the verb must agree with tho noun in number. Then stop by step, ho taught him without a book until in a few weeks there was a vast improvement in John's pronunciation and speech. He declared he would soon be able to talk as well as Pinkey.

CHAPTER VI. 'Hvfi*'

A SUNDAY IW THE COtJNTOT.r "V Preston Flat, as wo have said, was a long strip of country almost completely isolated from the rest of the world. It was divided into four school districts lying east and west, up and down the creek. These districts constitute as many distinct neighborhoods. Each had a congregation that assembled once a month at the school-house, for the purpose of hearing the word of God. The Flat could only support one preacher, and it took him one month to make the round. Rev. Mr. Bancroft was ono of those pioneer Methodist ministers, who sought by long, loud sermons and honest nard work to drive religion into his congregation.

It was the third Sunday after W alter's residence with the Miies' family that Mr. Bancroft was to preach at their school-house. Great preparations wore made the day before in their way of cooking, baking and having the housework completed, so there would be but little to do on the day following. "Ye are going to meetin' to-day are ye

not?"

asked John Miles of Walter,

one Sabbath morning. "1 suppose so." **v lhe day was one of those mild, beautiful autumn days that follow the first frost Tho sun had lost its fierce heat, yet retained enough warmth to be comfortable. "Guess, then, ye want a horse to ride," said John, thoughtfully. "How far is it?"

"Nigh on to two miles." "Do you all go on horseback or in the wagon?" •Oh, father and mother'll go in the buggy but these young folks prefer a horse. Ye see a feller then is independent like: he can just ride wherever he pleases.

Walter did not thoroughly understand John's meaning until he bad passed a Sabbath at the countiy jchurch.

He was furnished a fine, dark bay ihorse, a saddle and bridle and trap.pings, such as delight the hearts of .countiy youth. John and Ben Miles saddled the most fractious horses on the farm.

Nothing so delights a young country gentieman as to ride a horse. The wilder the better, and they usually have them so well trained that the moment they come in sight of a young lady the animal, to use their expression, "begins cuttin' up."

A more sober animal was saddled for Pinkey, and Walter was sure that her beauty was enhanced by the long flowing riding habit and jaunty hat

John and Ben were both busy trying to mount their half broken steeds, it was no easy matter and required considerable "woa" "woaing," and stand still, yon little fool," before the feat could be accomplished.

Walter, seeing that neither one of the brothers could aid the sister to mount, led her horse around to the stile, where she stood like statue of beauty, and assisted her into the saddle.

Mr. and Mrs. Miles were in t?ic K*r. boggy driving down the ro s.t an easy pace, and both John tad Ben, having mounted their steeds, galloped away more as if they were on fo* rhftf than going to church. Their reckless conauc! set Pin key's

prancing and VV a.ter sprang into his saddle and riding at her side took the rein near the bit and soothed the animal until he became quiet

Pinkey smiled graciously, to® thanked Walter. They rode along together just behind the buggv, which sent up clouds of dust from the revolving wheels. .-* "Why do your brothers ride such unruly horscsr" askod Walter. "They must "be dangerous not only to themselves, but the ladies and children who are travoling along tho road."

Thoy arc in love with danger," replied Pinkey. "Both aro reckless aa to consoquences, and the advic® of parents or friends is not heeded."

Scarcely had she spoken ere the clatter of hoofs was heard coming up behind them, and Walter had only time to seize the rein of Pinkoy's horse and hold it from running away when two or three farmer boys, mounted on half broken colts, dashed b}*. Seeing that the young lady's horse was frightened they yelled like Indians. "I never bofore saw such ill-man* nered young men," said Walter.

Pinkey laughed and explained that such was the custom of the country. "Then I wonder you are not afraid to venturo out on horseback." "Oh, I am used to it" she said. "Are you never frightened?" "No, sir." "Will nottyour horse rnn awayP" -Q "He might" "Woulayou not be thrown from tho saddle?" "I hardly think co. I never waa. thrown." ''You aro an excellent horsewoman."' ••All girls raised in this portion the country are so considered," she answered. "But you do not approve of suoh conduct? "No, sir it is too rude to moot the approval of any one especially on our way to church."

From every cross road and forest' path they met old folks, young folks and children on thoir way to church.: Dressed in thoir holiday clothes, some ill becoming and ill fitting, yet all clean. Some in wagons, more on horseback and a goodly number on foot.

Walter soon learned tho customs of the young horsemen, and although he could not approve of their reckloss riding could not but admiro it. The scnool-houso was in the midst of a beautiful grovo of tall, straiglit young trees which furnished hitching posts for all. In this grovo wero wagons, carts and buggies, and a large numbor of saddle horses. He assisted Pinkoy to alight at tho stilo and hitched her horse at a convcniont sapling. Then he accompanied the young lady to the door of tho school-house, when she passed in, taking a seat ou tho ladies' side, and he on the other.

As usual in country churches there were several loafers and loungers wait? ing on t'le outsulo of tho building. They wero men and boys who attend church merely to see who is there, but who novcr hear a word of gospel preached. Among them he recognized Bill Martin and shuddered as those baleful eyes wore fixed on him. There was moro than ono nod and wink exchanged among tho women with marriageable daughters, as the new farm hand entered with Pinkey.

Mrs. Goss, who sr.t by tho sido of Mrs. Jones, wondered why Mrs. Miles would allow hor daughter to go to mooting with tramps. Tho marriageable young daughters, nevertheless, looketl with no little envy on Pinkey's companion. His slender form and urbane air contrasted strangely with tho rough uncouth youth of tho neighborhood. His manner was gentlemanly and quiet, while tho illiterate ill-bred young man of tho country sat chewing gum and springing up every few minutes to run out of doors, much to the annoyanca of Rev. Mr. Ban-, croft who was endeavoring to interest his congregation.

When the services were over Walter stood at the door awaiting the exit of his companion. Some ono touched him on the elbow, and upon looking around" he beheld Bill Martin at his side. Thoso eyes with the same evil look were fixed upon him tho nernicious grin on hia face betrayed the evil thought of hia heart and sent a chill over the frameof our hero.

Don't be uneasy," ho said, in a low tone I ain't goin' to give you away." How hateful he seemed, and Walter spurned him with the contempt he doserved.

Pinkey made her appearance, took the arm of the new farm hand, and they walked through the crowd, that had. gathered about the door to tho stiles. Walter assisted Pinkey to don her riding skirt and mount her horse, then sprung upon his own animal and rode by her side. Tho woods were alive with reckless horsemen, and their shouts would make one think that a grand fox chase had been inaugurated.

We can not describe that rido home. Walter refers to it to-day as the haj^ piest hour of his life. What did they talk about? Of the trees, the blue sky, the deep forest and fairy-like dells but be tne subject what itmieht, their eyes spoke a deeper, holier language than words can. The glancea given and returned were the communings of fond

hearts.

lf 11

4'iV

krV

When Walter as

sisted the beautiful daughter of his employer to alight his hand trembled as it touched hers. The road seemed far too short and he wished it would extend indefinitely, and that .Pinkc might be his companion. No won were spoken, but each understood the other, and Waiter felt troubled at tho thought

When she bad dismounted, Pinkey ran up to her room to undress and cry, while Walter led the horses to the barn, and to contemplate his own sad fate—a

crticl

fate that made him love

aa object so far above him. •l\r To Be Continued.

A Flat Conlrldirtlon^

Somo one has told you that your catarrh is incurable. It

is not so. Dr.

Sage's Catarrh Remedy will cure it.

pleasant to use and does it work thor-.-richly. Wo have yet to hear of a case ni, -t-bich it did not accomplish a cure ,i faithfully used. Catarrh Is a diswhich is dangerous to neglect.

curtain remedy is at your command. Avail yourself of it before the complaint assumes a more serious form. All druggists.

'S*

A-ifc

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