Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 20, Number 29, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 January 1890 — Page 2

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Begun In The Mall Oct 26th. Back numbers can be nad at half price.

CHAPTER XY1IL

very soon after they are married." The speaker was Mrs. Belknap, and her soft voico was tuned to a pitch of almost pathetic regTet. They were talking of Mihh

Maitland, who had just been assisted to her saddle by the colonel, and now, followed by the faithful Griggs and escorted by Capt. Stryker, was riding away homeward after a brief call at the post. Fort Rossiter, once so humdrum and placid and "stupid," as the ladies termed it, had been the vortex of sensations for a whole fortnight, and ono excitement had trodden on the heels of another with such rapidity that people were growing weary.

Perhaps the happiest man ifcygarrison was Capt. Stryker he had refused to believo in the guilt of Sergt. Gwynne wben Capt. Wayne came to him to say that there were men in his troop who openly accused the sergeant of having that cherished seal ring secreted in his chest. So confident was ho that ho had gone with the captain and Mr. Farnham to the stables and there told Gwynne of the charge against him. Gwynne flushed hotly, denied the truth of the story, but hesitated when asked if he would allow his chest to be searched. This was quickly noted by Wayne and Farnham, and the search was insisted upon. Gwynne then said there were a few items in that chest which ho allowed no one to see he pledged his soldier word that they were nothing but a paper or two,, some little photographs and a book. Th&ae he asked permission to remove first then they might search. But Wayne sternly refused. The sergeant turned very white, set his lips, and hesitated still, until his own captain spoke: then he surrendered his key.

Wayne and Farnhatn bent over the chest whilo the troop first sergeant rapid ly turned over tho clothing, books, etc., with trembling hands. There was a little compartment at one side, in which were lying some small items—a pocket compass, a pencil case, some keys, a locket and a neck ohain, and, among these, something wrapped in tissue paper. This was handed to Capt. Wayno, who unrolled the paper,and—therewas a massive seal ring. A crest was cut in.the stone, and, taking it to tho light, Wayne was able to make out the motto, "Quod sursum volo videre." It was the ring Maitland had lost.

Stryker looked wonderingly at his ser-

Sed

cant, who stood there as though petriwith amaze and consternation, pale as death, and unable to say a wotd. Asked to explain tho matter, he* could only shake his head, and, after awhile, hoarsely muttered, "I know nothing about it. I never placed it there." "Do you menu to toll me you nover saw it before?" asked Wayne, sternly. And Gwynno was 6ilent. "la this the first time you ever saw it, I say?" repeated tho captain angrily. "No, sir I have seen it before," wasflu? answer. "Then you must have known 'twas itolen, and you have connived tit itsconjealmcnt." was Wayne's triumphant inclusion and on the report of his officers Col. Brainard had no alternative hut to order GWynne's close arrest. Only Stryker's appeal and guarantee saved the sergeant from confinement in the guard house.

The next sensation was the sight of Dr. Quin galloping buck to tho post like mad and bolting unceremoniously into the colonel's gate. Then Stryker was sent for, and the three officers held an excited conversation. Then the orderly went at a run over to the quarters, and in five minutes Sergt. Gwynne, erect as ever and dressed with scrupulous care, looking anything but like a guilty man, was seen crossing the parade towards his colonel's house. The men swarmed out on the porches as the tidings went from lip to lip, and some of the Irish troopers in Wayne's company were remarked as being oddly excited. Just what took place during that interview none could tell, but in tea minutes the news was flying around the garrison that Sergt. Gwynne was released from arrest, and in less than half an hour, to the wonderment of everybody, he was seen riding away towards Dunraven with Dr. Quin, and for two day® more did not reappear a£ Rossiter.

But when the story flashed from house to house about the garrison that Sergt. Gwynne was not Sergt Gwynne at all, bat Mr. Archibald Wyndham Quin Maitland, late of her majesty's —th Lancers, the only surviving son of the invalid owner of Dunravmn Ranch and other

DUNRAVEN.RANCH.

A Story of American Frontier

By CAPT. CHARLES KING, U. S. A., AUTHOR OF "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," "FROM THE RANKS,4 "THE DESERTER," ETC.

ES, certainly very pretty— now. It's such a pity that Englishwomen grow coarse and stout and red faced so

3

Copyrighted, 1888, by J. B. Lippmcott Company, Philadelphia, and Published by Special Arrangement through the American Press Association. 5

valuable properties, the amaze amounted to stupefaction. It was known that old Mr. Maitland lay desperately weak and ill the day that Quin the doctor ramfl riding back. All manner of stories were told regarding the affecting nature of the interview in which the long lost son was restored' to his overjoyed father, but, like most stories, they were purely the offspring of imagination, for at that interview only three were present: Gladys led her brother to the room and closed the door, while good Mrs. Cowan stood weeping for joy down the long corridor, and Dr. Quin blinked his eyes and fussed and fidgeted and strode around Perry's room with his hands in his pockets, exploding every now and then into sudden comment on the romantic nature of the situation and the idiocy of some people there at Rossiter. "Joy does not kill," he said "Maitland would have been a dead man by the end of the week but for this it will give him anew lease of life."

And it did. Though the flame was feeble and flickering, it was fanned by a joy unutterable. The boy whom the stricken father believed his stubborn pride and condemnation had driven to despair and suicide was restored to him in the prime of manly strength, all tenderness, all forgiveness, and Maitland's whole heart went up in thanksgiving. He begged that Brainard and Stryker would come to him, that he might thank them for their faith in his son he bade the doctor say to Perry that the moment he could be lifted from his bed he would come to clasp his hands and bless him for being afar better friend to his son than he had been a father.

The sergeant's return to the post was the signal for a general turnout on the, part of the men, all of whom were curious to see how he would appear now that his identity was established. Of course, his late assailants could not join in the crowd that thronged about him, but they listened with eagerness to everything that was told. "He was just the same as ever," said all accounts. He ha«J never been intimate with any of them but always friendly and kind. One thing went the rounds like lightning. "You'll begetting your discharge now, sergeant," said Mi's. Reed, the voluble wife of the leader of the band, "and taking up your residence at the ranch, 1 suppose. Of course the British minister can get it for you in a minute." "Not a bit of it, Mrs. Reed," was the laughing answer. "I enlisted to serve Uncle Sam five years, and he's been too good a friend to me to turn from. I shall serve out my time with the —th."

And the sergeant was true to his word. If old Maitland could have prevailed, an application for his son's discharge would have gone to Washington but this the soldier positively forbade. He had eight months still to serve, and he meant/to carry out his contract to the letter. Stryker offered him a furlough, and Gwynne thankfully took a week, that he might be by his father's side and help nurse him to better health. "By that time, too, the garrison will have grown a little more accustomed to it, sir, and I will have less embarrassment in going on with my work."

Two days before his return to duty there came a modified sensation in the shape of the report that a trooper of Wayne's company had deserted. He was a man who had borne a bad reputation as a turbulent, mischief making fellow, and when Sergt. Leary heard of his going he was in a state of wild excitement He begged to be allowed to see his captain, and to him he confessed that one of his little party of three had leen the ring drop from Mr. Maitland's finger tho night of the first visit to Dunraven, had managed to pick it up and carry it away in the confusion, and had shown it to his friend in Wayne's troop when they got back. The latter persuaded him to let him take it, as the lockers of the men who were at Dunraven were sure, he said, to be searched. It was known that he had a grudge against Gwynne he was one of the men who was to have gone to the ranch the night they purposed riding down and challenging the Englishmen to come out and fight, but had unaccountably failed at the last moment. They believed that he had chosen that night to hide the ring in the sergeant's chest: he could easily have entered through the window. And this explanation—the only one ever made—became at once accepted as the true one throughout the garrison.

During the week of his furlough the sergeant found time to spend many hours by the bedside of Lieut. Perry, who was rapidly recovering, and who by the end of the week had been lifted into an easy invalid chair and wheeled in to see Mr. Maitland. When not with Mr. Perry, the young trooper's tongue was ever wagging in his praise. He knew many a fine officer and gallant gentleman in the service of the old country, he said, and he admired many a captain and subaltern in that of his adopted land, bat the first one to whom he "warmed"—the first one to win his affection—was the young cavalryman who had met bis painful wound in their defense. Old Maitland listened to it all eagerly—he had already given orders that the finest tho oughbred at Dunraven should be Perry's the moment he was able to mount again and he was constantly revolving in mind how he could show his appreciation of the officers who had befriended his son. Mrs. Cowan, toc never tired of hearing Perry'* praises, and eagerly questioned when the narrator flagged. Then was

a*

7. 5?

fERRE TTAITTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL

another absorbed auditor, who never questioned and who listened with downcast eyes. It was she who seldom came near Perry during his convalescence, she who startled and astonished the young fellow beyond measure, the day the ambulance came dpwn to drive him back to the fort, by withdrawing the hand he had impulsively seized when at last she appeared to bid him adieu, and cutting short his eager words with "Mrs. Belknap will console you, I dare eay.'Vwid abruptly leaving the room. ||jli8s

Poor Nedl In dire distress and perplexity he was driven back to Rossiter and that very evening he did a most sensible and fortunate thing he told Mrs. Sprague all about it and, instead of condoling with him and bidding him strive to be patient and saying that all would come right in time, the little woman's kind eyes shone with delight, her cheeks flushed with genuine pleasure she fairly sprang from her chair, and danced up and down and clapped her hands and laughed with glee, and then, when Perry ruefully asked lier if that was the sympathy he had aright to expect from her, she only laughed the more, and at last broke forth with:, "Oh, you great, stupid, silly boy You ought to be wild with happiness. Can't you see she's jealous?"

And the very next day she liaii along talk with Dr. Quin, whose visits to Dunraven still continued and one bright afternoon when Gladys Maitland rode up to the fort to return calls, she managed to have quite a chat with her, despite the fact that Mrs. Belknap showed a strong desire to accompany that fair English girl in all three of her visits. In this effort, too, the diplomatic services of Capt. Stryker proved rather too much for the beauty of the garrison. Was it possible that Mrs. Sprague had enlisted him also in the good cause? Certain it is that the dark featured captain was Mi3s Maitland's escort as she left the garrison, and that it was with the consciousness of impending defeat that Mrs. Belknap gave utterance to the opening sentence of this chapter Mr. Perry had distinctly avoided her ever since his return.

One lovely evening late in May Mr. Perry was taking his first ride on the new horse, a splendid bay and a perfect match for Gladys Maitland's favorite mount. Already had this circumstance excited smiling comment in the garrison but if the young man himself had noted the close resemblance it conveyed no blissful augury. Everybody remarked that he had lost much of his old buoyancy and life, and it must be confessed he was not looking either blithe or well. Parke had suggested riding with him— an invitation which Perry treated so coldly that the junior stopped to think a moment, and began to see through the situation: and so Mr. Perry was suffered to set forth alone that evening, and no one was surprised when, after going out of the west gate as though bent- on riding up the Monee, he was presently seen to have made the circuit of the post and was slowly cantering down towards the lower valley. Out on the eastern prairie another horseman could be seen, a: presently the two came togefyefsrri^i1 Brainard-took down his binccu gazed out a.'ter them. ..." "I declare." said he, "those two figures are so much alike I cannot tell which of them is Perry." "Then the other is Sergt. Gwynne, colonel," sai(J Stryker, quietly. "Put him in our uniform, and it would indeed be hard to tell the two figures apart. Mr. Maitland told me last week that that was what so startled and struck him the first time he saw Perry." "How is Mr. Maitland now, do you know?"' "He getsT no better After the first week of joy and thanksgiving over his boy's restoration to him, the malady seemed to reassert itself. Dunraven will have anew master by winter, I fancy."

The colonel was silent a moment. Then he suddenly asked: "By the way, how was it that GwynnC wasn't drowned? I never understood that." "He never meant to be," said Stryker. •'He told Perry all about it. He was ruined, he thought,in his profession and in his own country, and he knew his father's inexorable pride so he simply decided to put an end to Archie Maitland and start a new life for himself. He wrote his letters and arranged his property with that view, and he called the steward to enable him to swear he was in his Btateroom after the steamer weighed anchor. Then in a jiffy he was over the side in the darkness it was flood tide and he was an expert swimmer he reached a coasting vessel lying near he had money, bought his passage to France, after a few days at Cape Town, and then came to America and enlisted. He got a confession out of one of their irregulars who was with him, Perry says, and that was one of the papers he was guarding so jealously. He had given others to Perry that very night." "They seemed to take to each other like brothers from the start, said the colonel, with a quiet smile "Jufct about," answered Capt. Stryker.

Meantime, Perry and Serge. Gwynne have been riding slowly down the valley. Night has come upon Dunraven by the hour they reach the northern gate—no longer closed against them—and as they near the house Perry slowly dismounts. "I'll take the horses to the stable myself: I want to," says a is trooper friend, and for the second time the young officer stands upon the veranda at the doorway, then holds his hand as he hears again the soft melody of the piano floating out upon the still night air. Slowly and not without pain he walks around to the east front, striving to move with noiseless steps. At List he stands by the open casement, just where he had paused in surprise that night a month agone, and slowly drawing aside one heavy fold of curtain, gazes longingly in at Gladys Maitland, seated there at the piano, just where he first saw her lovely face and form.

Presently, under the soft touch of her fingers,* sweet, familiar melody comes rippling forth. He remembers it instantly it is the same he heard the night

of his first visit—that exquisite "Spring Song" of Mendelssohn's—and he listens, spell bound. All of a sudden the sweet strains are broken off, the music ceases she has thrown herself forward, bowed her queenly head upon her arms, and leaning oyer the keyboard, her form is shaken by a storm of passionate tears. Perry hurls aside the sheltering curtain and limps rapidly across the soft and noiseless rug. She never dreams of his presence until, close at her side, a voice she has learned to know and know well —avoice tremulous with love, sympathy and yearning—murmurs only her name, "Gladys." and, starting up, she. looks one instant into his'longing eyes.-'V$jf

Sergt. "Gwynne" Maitland, lifting the heavy portiere a moment later, stops short at the entrance, gazes one second at the picturesque scene at the piano, drops the portiere, and vanishes, unnoticed.

Things seemed changed at Dunraven of late years. The —th are still at Rossiter, so is Lieut. Perry. It may be tho climate or association with an American sisterhood, or—who knows?—perhaps somebody has told her of Mrs. Belkuap's prediction, but Mrs. Perry has not yet begun to grow coarse, red faced or stout She is wonderfully popular with the ladies of the —th, and has found warm friends among them, but Mrs. Sprague of the infantry is the woman she particularly fancies, and her gruff old kinsman Dr. Quin is ever a welcome guest at their fireside. It was he. she told her husband long after, who undid the mischief Mrs. Belknap had been able to sow in one brief conversation. "I've known that young woman ever since she wore pinafores. Gladys. She has some good points, too. but her one idiosyncrasy is that every man she meets should bow down to and worship her. She is an Alexander in petticoats, sighing for new worlds to conquer, has been a coquette from the cradle, and—what she can't forgive in Ned Perry is that he simply did not fall in love with her as she thought he had."

Down at Dunraven the gates are gone, the doors are very hospitably open. Ewen is still manager de jure, but young Mr. Maitland, the proprieter, is manager de facto, and, though there is constant £oing and coming between the fort and the ranch, and the officers of the th ride in there at all hours, what makes the ranchman so popular among'the rank and file is the fact that Sergt. "Gwynne," as they still call him, has a warm place in his heart .for one and all, and every year when the date of his enlistment in the —th comes round he gives a barbecue dinner to the men, whereat there are feasting and drinking of healths and song and speech making, and Leary and Donovan and even the recreant Kelly are apt to be boisterously projninent on such occasions, but blissfully so—for there hadn't been a shindy of any kind since their old comrade stepped into his possessions at Dunraven Ranch

THE END

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rriDutes

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Confucius—Woman is the masterpiece. Herder—Woman is the crowu of creation. Voltaire—Women teach us repose, civility and dignity.

Whittier—If woman lost us Eden, such as she alone can restore it. Bulwer—To a gentleman every woman is a lady in right of her sex

Lamartine—There is a woman at tbe beginning of all great things. E. S. Barrett—Woman is last at the cross and earliest at the grave.

f*

Gladstone—Woman is the mos£ perfect when the most womanly. Richter—No man can either live piously or die righteous without a wife.

N. P. Willis—The sweetest thing in life fa the unclouded welcome of a wife. Beechor—Women are a new race, recreated since the world received Christianity.

Voltaire—All the reasonings of a man are not worth one sentiment of a woman. Leopold Schefer—But one thing on earth Is better than a wife—that is a mother.

Michelet—Woman is the Sunday of man, not, his repose only, but his joy, the salt of bis life.

Luther—Earth has nothing more tender than a woman's heart when it is the abode of pity.

Shakespeare—For where is any author in the world teaches such beauty as a woman's eyes!

Margaret Fuller Ossoli—Woman is born for love, and it is impossible to turn her from seeking it.

Louis Desnoyers—A woman may be ugly, ill shaped, wicked, ignorant, silly and stupid, but bardly ever ridiculous. 'J Dialect Gem*.

It seeuis as ef grace could work In some naters better'n others. When you can do somethin', either to help or hinder, it's a comfort.

The 'artta isn't no place for saints folks here below don't know how to treat 'em. There's all sorts of folks in the world, and it's no great use to be studyin' of 'em and gabbin'.

There's some water runs dreadful still because it's deep an' some because the1 ain't no stun's into it.

Hie ways of providence are dreadfully mysterious, and the wust of it is you can't neither change 'em nor see into 'em.—Rose Terry Cooke ic Steadfast.

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F.5 SONNET.

1 once could weep when women wept their tears, Whether of joy or pain, or love for me, Moved all the meekness of my soul, for fears,

And terrene guiles bad spared me I was free And pore of holiest thought, yet young in years My lips breathed freshnesa and its sympathy. The coreless skeleton of Time now leers

Upon the threshold of my souL I see. Callous, Indifferent, scenes of blood and crime, Tbe poor despair, the wicked upward climb, My trusts in love and youth I long have spurnad.

My sinning life tides slowly deathwaTd creep, B\.t oh! how has my-skeptic spirit yearned To shed one simple tear when women weep! ^*0^ —F. S. Saltus in Pittsburg Bulletin.

3^_

E MYSTERIOUS IN WOMAN.

Ii There Something Inexplicable About Her for Science to Explain. There appears to be a great quantity of conceit around, especially concerning women. The statement was recently set afloat that a well known lady had admitted that George Meredith understands women better than any writer who has preceded him. This may be true, and it may be a wily statement to again throw men off the track at any rate it contains the old assumption of a mystery, practically insoluble, about the gentler sex Women generally encourage this notion, and men, by their gingerly treatment of if, seem to accept it. But it is well founded.

Is there any more mystery about women than about men? Is the feminine nature any more difficult to understand than the masculine nature! Have women, conscious of inferior strength, woven this notion of mystery about themselves as a defense, or have men simply idealized them for fictitious purposes? To recur to the case cited, is there any evidence that Mr. Meredith understands human nature as exhibited in women any better than human nature in men, or is more condstent in the production of one than of the other?

Historically it would bo interesting to trace the rise of this notion of women as an enigma. The savage races do not appear to have it. A woman to the North American Indian is a simple affair, dealt with without circumlocution. In the Bible records there is not much mystery about her there are many tributes to her noble qualities, and some pretty severe and uncomplimentary things are said about her, but thefe Ls little affectation of not understanding her. She may be a prophetess or a consoler or a snare, but she is no more "decitful aud desperately wicked" than anybody else.

There is nothing mysterious about her first recorded performance. Eve trusted the serpent and Adam trusted Eve. The mystery was in the serpent. There is no evidence that the ancient Egyptian woman was more difficult to comprehend than the Egyptian man. They were both doubtless wily, as highly civilized people are apt to be the "serpent of old Nile" was in them both.

Is it, in fact, till we come to medieval times and the chivalric age that women are set up as being more incomprehensible than men? That is, less logical, more whimsical, more uncertain in their mental processes? The play writers and essayists of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth centuries "worked" this notion continually. They always took an investigating and speculating attitude toward women that fostered the conceit of their separateness and veiled personality. Every woman was supposed to bo playing a part behind a mask.

Montaigue is always investigating woman as a mystery. It is, for instance, a mystery he does not relish that, as ho says, women commonly reserve the publication of their vehement affections for their husbands till they have lost them then the woful countenance "looks not so much back as forward, and is intended rather togot a new-husband than to lament the old. Aud he tells this story: "When I was a boy, a very beautiful and virtuous lady, who is yet living, and the widow of a prince, had, I know not what, more ornament in her dress than our laws of widowhood will well allow, which being roproachod with as a great indcccncy, she made answer 'that it was because she was not cultivating more friendships and would never marry again.'This cynical view of woman, as well as the extravagantly complimentary one sometimes taken by the poets, was based upon the notion that woman was an unexplatnable being. When she herself adopted the idea is uncertain.

Of course, all thifc has a very practical bearing upon modern life, the position of women in it,

kild

the so called reforms. If woman is

so different from man, to the extent of being an unexplainable mystery, science ought to determine the exact state of the. case and ascertain if there is any remedy for it. If it is only a literary creation, we ought to know it. Science could tell, for instance, whether there is a peculiarity in the nervous system, any complications in the nervous centers, by which the telegraphic action of the will gets crossed, so that, for example, in reply to a proposal of marriage, the intended "Yes" gets delivered "No."

Is it true that the mental process in one sex is intuitive and in the other logical, with every link necessary and visible? Is it true, as the romancers teach, that the mind in one sex acts indirectly and in the other directly, or is this indirect process only characteristic of exceptions in both sexes? Investigation ought to find this out, so that we can adjust the fit occupations for both sexes on a scientific bads. We are floundering about now in a sea of doubt. As society becomes more complicated womep will become a greater and greater mystery, or rather will be regarded so by themselves and be treated so by men.

Who can tell how much this notion of mystery in the sex stands in the way of its free advancement all along the line? Suppose the proposal were made to woman to exchange being mysterious for the ballot? Would they do it? Or have they a sense of power in the possession of this conceded incomprehensibility that they would not lay down for any visible insignia of that power? And if the novelists and essayists have raised a mist about the sex which it willingly masquerades in, is it not time that the scientist? should determine whether the mystery exists in nature or only in the imagination?—Charles Dudley Warner, in Harper's Magazine.-

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^t

Pache

IW POWDERS

25

CT9.PER 80*-

USE MTFMM'S

MiWISS

HEADACHE POWDERS.

THf*

C&tUMn 1fo Opium, BrvmUte* or Jfareotlc*.

TBJCT ASS MOT A CATHARTIC. PRICE 28 GENTS. FOR SALE BY DRUGSISTS. OB B«rr ST HAIL. AOOKWWTH*

55 Mats St. ME*, *. hrtwwtonal M**™ S^ld.by

3, 9tO,

BAU

Sifts!