Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 15 April 1886 — Page 12

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.£**-

MY LADY'S MONEY

By WILKIE COLLINS.

4M EPISODE

nr TBK

LIFE OF A YOUNG GIRL.

CHAf*TER XIV.

The instant Isabel was out .of hearing Old Sharon slapped Moody on the shoulder to rouse his attention. "I've got her out of the way," he said "now listen to me. My busk ness with the young angel is done I may go back to London."

Moody looked at him Jn astonishment "Bord! how little yoti know of thieves!" exclaimed Old Sharon. "Why, man alive, I bave tried her with two plain tests. If you 'wanted a proof of her innocence, there it was, as plain as the nose on your face. Did you hear me ask her how she came to seal the letter, just when her mind was running on something else?"

"I heard you," said Moody. "Did you see how she started and stared at

I did." ., "Well, I can tell you this: If she Jiad stolen the money she would neither have started nor stared. She would have had her answer ready beforehand in her own mind, in case of accidents. There's only one thing, in my experience, that you can never do with a thief, when the thief happens to be a woman—you can never take her by surprise. Put that remark by in your mind one day you may find a use for remembering it. Did you see her blush, and look quite hurt in her feelings, pretty dear, when I asked about her sweetheart? Do you think a thief, in her place, would have shown such a face as that? Not she! The thief would have been relieved. The thief would have said to herself: 'All right the more the old fool talks about sweethearts the further he is from tracing the robbery to me.' Yes! yes! the ground's cleared now, Master Moody. I've reckoned up the servants I've Questioned Miss Isabel I've made my inquiries in all the other quarters that may be useful to us— and what's the result? The advice I yre, when you and the lawyer first came to me— I hake that fellow!—remains as sound and good advice as ever. I have got the thief in my mind," said Old Sharon, closine his cunning eyes and then opening them again, "as plain as I've got you in my eye at this minute. No more of that now," he went on, booking round sharply at the path that led to the farm house "I've something particular to say to you, and there's barely time to say it before that nice girl comes back. Look liere! do you happen to be acquainted with Mr. Hardyman's valet?"

Moody's eyes rested on Old Sharon with a -searching and doubtful look. Mr. Hardyman's valet?" he repeated. "I -wasn't prepared to hear Mr. Hardyman's name."

Old Sharon looked at Moody, in his turn, .with a flash of sardonic triumph. "Oho!" he said "has-my good boy learned bis lesson? Do you see the thief through my spectacles already?" "I began to see him," Moody answered, "when you gave us the guinea opinion at your lodgings." "Will you whisper his name?" asked Old Sharon. "Not yet. I distrust my own judgment .Ml wait till time proves that you're right"

Old Sharon knitted his shaggy 4rows and abook his head. "If you only had a little Jiore-dash and go in you," he said, "you would be a clever fellow. As it is—" He finished the sentence by snapping his fingers with a grin of contempt "Let's get to business. Are you going back by the next train along with me, or are you going to stop with the young lady?" "I will follow you by a later train," Moody answered. "Then I must give you your instructions at once," Sharon continued. "You get better acquainted with Hardyman's valet. Lend him money if he wants it stiek at nothing to make a bosom friend of him. .1 can't do that part of it my appearance Would be against •je. «re the man: you arejrespectable from the top of your hat to. the tups or your boots nobody would suspect ybttt Dont make objections! Can you fix the valet? Or can't you?" "I can try," said Moody,. ."And what then?"

Old Sharon put his gross lips disagreeably close to Moody's ear. "Your friend the valet can tell you who Ms master's bankers are," he said "and he can supply you with a specimen of his master's handwriting."

Moody drew back as suddenly as if his -vagabond companion had put a knife at his throat "You old villain 1" he said **are you tempting me to forgery?" "You infernal fool!'* retorted Old Sharon. "Will you hold that long tongue of'yours, and hear what I have to say? You go to Hardyman's bankers, with a note in Hardyman's handwriting (exactly imitated by me) *to this effect: Mr. H. presents his compliments to Messrs. So-and-So, and is not quite certain whether a payment of five hundred pounds has been made within the last week to his account He will be much obliged if Messrs. So-and-So will inform him by a line in reply whether there is such an entry to his credit in their books, and by whom the payment has been made. You wait for the banker's answer, and bring it to me. It's just possible that the name you're afraid to whisper may appear in the letter. If it does we've caught our man. Is that forgery, Mr, Muddlehead Moody? Fll tell you what—if I had lived to be your age, and knew no more of the world than you do, I'd go and hang myself. Steady! here's our charming friend with the milk. Remember your instructions, and don't lose heart if my notion of the payment to the bankers comes to nothing. I know what to do next, in that case—and, what's more, IH take all the risk and trouble on my own shoulders. Oh, Lord! I'm afraid 1 shall be obliged to drink the milk, now it's come."

With this apprehension in his mind, he advanced to relieve Isabel of the jug she carried "Here's a treat!" he burst out with an affectation of joy which was completely belied by the expression of his dirty face. "Here's a kind and dear young lady, to help an old man to a drink with her own pretty hands." He paused, and looked at the milk very much as he might have looked at a dose of physic. "Will any one take a drink first?" he asked, offering the jug piteously to Isabel and Moody. "You see, I'm not used to genuine milk Fm used to chalk and water. I don't know what effect the unadulterated oow might have on my poor old inside." He tasted the milk with the greatest caution. "Upon my soul, this is too rich for me! The unadulterated cow is a deal too strong to be drunk alone. If you'll allow me, I'll qualify it with a drop of gin. Here, Puggy! Puggy1" He set the milk down before the dog, and taking a flask oat of his pocket emptied it at a draught "That's something like!" he smacking his lips with an air of infinite relief. "So sorry, miss, to have given you all. your trouble for nothing it's my ignorance thafs to hlynfl. not ma I oouldnt know I

4t Hi* I

was unwortny ot genuine milk till tried— could I? And do you know?" he proceeded, withhia eye,directed alylyton the waybaafrto

the station, "I begin to think I'm not worthy of the fresh air, either. A kind df a longing seems to come over me forthe London stink. Tm home&ck already for the soot of my happy childhood and my own dear native mud. The air here is tqo thin for me, and the sky too clear and—oh, Lord!—when you're used to the -roar o! the traffifr-the busses and the cabs and what not—the silence in these parts is downright awfuL 111 wish you good evening, miss, widget back to London,"

Isabel turned to Moody with disappointment plainly expressed in her face and manner. "Is that all he has to say!" she asked. "You told me he could help us. You led me to suppose he could find the guilty person."

Sharon heatd her. "I could name the guilty person," he answered, "as easily, ibiss, as I could name you." "Why dont you do i$, then?" Isabel inquired, not very patiently. "Because the time's not ripe for it yet miss—that's one reason. Because, if I mentioned the thief's name, as things are now, you, Miss Isabel, would think me mad and you would tell Mr. Moody I had cheated him out of his money—that's another reason. The matter's in train, if you will only wait a little longer." "So you say," Isabel rejoined. "If you really could name the thief, I believe you would do it-now." '•!ii

She turned away with a frown On her pretty face. Old Sharon followed her. Even his coarse sensibilities appeared to feel the irresistible ascendency of beauty and youth. "I say l" he began, "we must part fi'leutls, you know, or I shall break my heart over it They have got milk at the farm house. Do you think they have got pen, ink and paper, too?"

Isabel answered, without turning to look at him, "Of course they have." "And a bit of sealing-waxf "Idare say."

Old Sharon laid his dirty data on her shoulder, and forced her to face him as the best means of shaking them off. ."Come along 1" he said. "I am going to pacify you with some information in writing." "Why should you write it?" Isabel asked, suspiciously. "Because I mean to. make my own conditions, my dear, before I let you into the secret"

In ten mimtteS more they were all three ia the farm house pallor.' Nobody bdt the farmer's wife was at home. The -good woman trembled from head to foot at the sight of Old Sharon. In all her harmless life she had never yet seen humanity under the aspect in which it was now presented to her. "Mercy preserve us, miss!" she whispered to Isabel, "how come you to be in such company as thatf" Instructed by Isabel, she produced the necessary materials for wilting and sealing, ancLthat done, she shrank away to the door. "Please to excuse me, miss," she said, with a last horrified look at her venerable visitor "I really can't stand the sight of such a blot of dirt as that in my nice, clean parlor." With these words she disappeared, and was seen no mora

Perfectly indifferent to his reception, Old Sharon wrote, inclosed what he had written in an envelope, and sealed it (in the absence of anything better fitted for his purpose)' with the mouthpiece of his pipe. "New. mis," he said, "you give me your word of honor"—he stopped andlooked round at Moody, with a grin—"and you give me yours, that you won't either 6f you break the seal on this envelope till the expiration of one week from the present day. These are the conditions, Miss Isabel, on which I'll give you your information. If you stop to dispute with me, the candle's alight ana 111 burn the letter."

It was useless to contend with him. Isabel and Moody gave him the promise that he required. He handed the sealed envelope to Isabel with a low bow. "When the week's out" he said, "you will own. I'm a cleverer fellow than you think me now. Wish you evening, miss. Come along,- Puggy! well to the horrid, dean country, and back again to the nice London stink!"

He nodded to Moody—he leered at Isabel —he chuckled to. himself—he left the farm bouse.

blushe

CHAPTER XV.

Isabel looked down at the letter in her hand, considered it in silence, and turned to Moody. "1 feel tempted to open it already," die said."After giving your promise?" Moody gently remonstrated.

Isabel met that objection with a woman's logic.

'Does a promise matter," she asked, "when one gives it to a dirty, disreputable, presuming old wretch like Mr. Sharon? It'sa wonder to me that you trust guch a creature. 1 wouldn't!" "I doubted him just as you do," Moody answered, "when I,first saw him in company with Mr. Troy. But there was something ia the advice he gave us at the first consultation which altered my opinion of him for the better.

acted unwisely in employing Mr. Sharon." Isabel listened absently. Sis had sonything more to say, and she was considering how she should say it "May I ask you a bold question?" she began. "Any question you like." "Have you—" She hesitated and looked embarrassed. 'Have yon paid Mr. Sharon much money?" she resumed, suddenly rallying her courage. Instead yot answering, Moody suggested that it was time to think of returning to Miss Pink's villa. "Your aunt may be getting anxious about you," he said.

Isabel led the way oat of the farm house in silence. 8Mb reverted to Mr. Sharon and the money, however, as they returned by the path across the fields.

Moody entreated her not to speak of it "How can I put my money to a better use than in serving your interests?" he asked. "My one object in life is to relieve you of your present anxieties. I shall be the happiest man living if you only owe a moment's happiness to my exBrtiona"

Isabel took his hand, and looked at with grateful tears in her eyes. "How good you are to me, Mr. Moody!" she said. "I wish I could tell you how deeply I feel your kindness." "You can do it easily," he answered, with a smile. "Call me 'Robert don't call me 'Mr. Moody.'

She took his arm with a sudden familiarity that charmed him. "If you had been my brother I should have called you'Robert,'" she said "and no brother could have been more devoted to me than you are."

He looked eagerly at her bright face turned up to his. "May I never hope to be something nearer and dearer to, you than a brotherr he asked, timidly.

She hang her head and said nothing. Moodvfe memonr recalled Sharon's. coa&»j

I dislike his appearance and his pleasure of meeting you at her house that manners as much as you do—I may even say you had an aunt living in the country. I I felt ashamed of bringing such a person to have a good memory. Miss Isabel, for anvsee you. And yet I can't think that I have

"I am sure you will hot be off ended with me," she said, gently, (if I own that I am uneasy about the expenses. I am allowing you to use your purse as if it were mine, and I have hardly any savinjp of my own."

4s'«

Her face answered for her—she had turned pale she was looking more, serious than usAal. Igiiorant as he was of the ways of women, his instinct told him that this was a bad sign. her rising color would havti confessed it if time and gratitude together were teaching h^ to love him? He signed as the inevitable conclusion forced itself .pn his mind. "I hope I have noffended yoti?" he said, sadly. "Oh, no* v'4* '.vS"' "I wish I hM nbt spoken.'' Pray aon't think that I am serving you with any selfish motive." "I dont think that, Robert I never could think it of you."

He was not quite satisfied yet "Even if you were to marry some other man," he went on, earnestly, "it would make ho difference in what I am trying to do for you. No matter what I might suffer, I should still go cm—for your sake." "Why do you talk sop she burst out, passionately. "No other man has such a claim as yours to my gratitude and regard. How cab you let such thoughts come to you? I have done nothing in secret 1 have no friends who are not known to you. Be satis-

fled with that Robert and let us drop the subject" "Neva* to take it Up again?" he asked, with the infatuated pertinacity of a man dinging to his last hope.

At other times and under other circumstances Isabel might have answered Mm sharply. She spoke with perfect gentleness now.' .' -'I c* "Not for the present,1* she slid. "I don't know my own heart Give me time."

His gratitude caught at- those words, as the drowning iriattIs said to catch ait the proverbial straw. He lifted her hand, and suddenly atad fondly pressed his lips on it She showed no confusion. «Was she sorry for him, poor ffretch!—and was that all!

They walked on arm in arm, in silence. Crbssing the last field, they entered again on th6 high road leading to the yow of villas in which Miss Pink lived. The minds of both were .preoccupied. Neither of them noticed a gentleman approaching on horseback, followed by a mounted groom. He was advancing slowly, at the walking pace 'of his horse,' and he only observed the two foot pafesengers when he_was dose.td them ^Miss Isabel?"

There was no alternative before Isabel but to answer this last question. Hardyman had inet her out walking, and had no doubt drawn the inevitable inference, although ha was too polite to say so in plain words.

Yes, sir," she answered, shyly "I am staying in this neighborhood." 'And who is your relationP Hardyman. proceeded, in his easy, matters-course vyay. "Lady Lydiard told me, when I had tin

good memory, Miss Isabel, for anything lhat I hear about you. It's your aunt, isn't it? Yes? I know everybody about here. What is your aunt's name?"

"A jpieee of good fortune that I hardly

141

hoped for" said Hardyman. Isabel, still resting har hand on Robert's arm, felt it tremble a little as Hardyman made this last inquiry. If she had been speaking to one of her equals she would have known how to dispose of the question without directly answering it But what could she say to the magnificent gentleman ou the stately horse? He had only to send his servant into the village to ask who the young lady from London Was staying with and the answer, in a dosen mouths at least, would direct him to her aunt She cast one appealing look at Moody, and pronounced the distinguished of ifiw Pink. 'MisB Pinkf' Hardvraan reneated. "Surelv

THE TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

branco'of

WC." ..1 li "tij (A jr fft i'.r' f-r| t&i

his mem

the different local festivals at' which strangers had been introduced to him.) "Was it at the archery hieeting, or at the grammar school, when the prises were given? No? It must have been at the flower show, then, surelyp

It had been at the flower show. Isabel

had heard it from Miss Pink fifty thne3 at leasty and was obliged to admit it now. "I am quite ashamed of never having called," Hafdyman proceeded "The fact is, I have so much to do! am a Bad' one fit ts. Are you On your way home? ollowyou and makd my apologies personally to MisB Pink.".

Moody looked at fcabeL It was only a momentary glance,, but she perfectly understood it "I am afraid, sir, my aunt cannot have the honor of seeing you to-day," she said.

Hardyman was all compliance. He smiled and patted hishorss's neck. "To-morrow, then," he raid. "My complittients, and I will call in the afternoon. Let me see Misi Pink lives at—" He waited, as if he expected Isabel to assist his treacherous memory once more. She hesitated again. Hardyman looked round at Ids groom. The groom could find out the address, even if he did not happen to know it already. Besides, there was the little row of house* visible at the farther end of the road. Isabel pointed to' the villas, as a necessary coftcession to gooi manners, before the groom could anticipate her. "My aunt lives there, sir, at the house called Tho Lawn." "Ah! to be sure," said Hardyman. "I Oughtn't to have wanted reminding but I have so many things to think of at the farm. AM I am afraid 1 must be getting old my memory tent as godd as it was. I am so glad to have seen yog, Miss Isabel. You and your aunt must come and look at my horse! Do you like horses? Are you fond of riding? 1 have a quiet roan maiethat is usedto carrying ladies^ she would be just the thing for yoti. Did I beg you to give my best compliments to your aunt Yes? How well you are looking! our air here agrees with you. I hope I haven't kept you titahdboo loner? I didnt think of it in the

ing too long? pleasure of meeting you. Good-by, Isabel—good-by till WMiiorrow."

f/'.

She started, looked up, and discoveredAlfred Hardyman. He was dressed ia a perfectly made traveling suit: of light brown, with a peaked felt hat of' a darker shade of the same color, which, in a picturesque sense, greatly improved his personal appearance. His pleasure at discovering Isabel gave the. animation to his features which they wanted on ordinary occasions. He sat his horse, a superb hunter, easily add gracefully. His light amber-col-ored gloves fitted him perfectly. His obedient servant, on another magnificent horse, waited behind him. He looked the impersonation of rank and breeding, of wealth and prosperity. What a contrast, in a woman's eyes, to the shy, pale, melancholy man in the ill-fitting black clothes, with the wandering, uneasy glance, who stood bqneath him and felt, and showed that Jie felt, his inferior position keenly! In spite of herself, the treacherous blush flew over Isabel's face, in Moody's .presence, and with Moody's eyes distrustfully watching her.

This is a piece of good fortune that I hardly hoped for," said Hardyman, his cool, quiet dreary way of speaking quickened, as nstud, in1 Isabel's presence. "I only got bask from France this morning, and I called on Lady Lydiard in the hope of seeing you. She waB not at home, and you, were .in tl^e coun- jtitt&.was generously meant. But while her try, and .the servants didn't know the address. I could get nothing out of them, except that you were on avisit toa relation." Helooked at Moody while he was «*eaki% "Haven't I seen you before?' he said, carelessly. "Yei at Lady Lydiard's. You're her steward, are you not? How d'ye do?" Moody, with ,hls eyes on the ground, answered silently by a bow. Hardyman, perfectly indifferent Whether Lady Lydiard's steward spoke or not twned oh his saddle and looked admiringly at Isabel. "I begin to think my luck has turned at last," he went on, with & smile. "I was fogging along to my farm and despairing, of ever seeing Miss Isabel again— and Mk3 Isabel herself meets me at the road* side! I wonder whether you are as glad to tee me ap I am to* see you? You won't tell me, eh? May ask you something else?—are you staying in our neighborhood?"

Miss

He took off his hat to Isabel, nodded i* Moody, apd pursued his -way to the farm. Isabel looked at her, companion. His Wye& were still on the ground. Pale, silent, motionless, he .waited by her like a dog, until she gave the signal ot walking on again toward ihe house. "You are not angry with me for speaking to Mr. Hardymanf' die asked, anxiously.

He lifted his head at the Sound of her voioa "Angry with you, my dear! Why should I be angry?" "You seem so changed, Robert, since we met Mr. Hardyman. I couldn't help speaking to him, could If' ft' "Certainly not"

They moved on towards the villa. Isabel was still uneasy. Then was something in Moody's sileut'submission to all that she said and all that she did which pained and humiliated her. "You're not jealous?" she said, mailing timidly.

Hetried to speak lightly, on his sida "I have^po time to be jealous while I have your affairs to look after," he answered.

She pressed his arm tenderly. ''Never fear, Robert, that new friends will make me forget the best and dearest friend Who is now at my side" She paused, and looked up at him with a compassionate fondness that Was very pretty to see. "I can keep out of the way to-morrow when Mr. Hardyman calls," she said. "It is my aunt he is Coming to see, not ma"

mind was only occupied with the present time, Moody's mind was looking info the future. He was learning the hard lesson of .'elf-sacrifice already. "Do what you think right" he said, quietly "dont think of me.'

They reached the gate of the villa. He $eld out his hand to say good-by. "Won't you come in?' she asked. "Do "fcGme in." '4-v/ '^. "Not now, my dear. 1 most get back''tc 'London ks .soon as I can. Thei*e is soms more work to be done for you, and the sooner I do it the better." i' She heard his excuse without heeding itt"1' "You are not like yourself, Robert," shs said. "Why is it? What are you thinking of

He was thinking of the bright blush that overspread her face when Hardyman first Rpoke to her he was thOking^ of the invitation to her to see the stud farm, and to ride the roaii mare he was thinking of the utterly pOWeriess position, in Which he stfood toward Isabel and toward the highly born gentleman who admired her. But foe kept his doubts and fears to himself. '"The train won't wait for me," he said and held out his hand once more.

She was not only perplexed, she was really distressed. "Don't take leave of me in thar told way t" she pleaded. Her oyes dropped t-efere his and her lips trembled a little, "(five me a kiss, Robert, at parting." She said those bold words soiftly and sadly, out of the depth of her pity for him. He started his face brightened suddenly his sinking hope rose again. In another moment the change came: in another moment he understood her. As he touched her cheek with hi* lips he turned pale again. "Don't quite forget me," he said, in low, faltering tones, and left hen

Miss Pink met Isabel in the hall. Refm.her? by unbroken, lepose, the ex-schoolmiktre* was in the happiest fsame of mind lor lb reception of her niece's news.

Informed that Moody had traveled to South Morden to personally report the progress oi the inquiries, Miss Pink highly approved of him as a substitate for Mr. Troy. "Mr. Moodv, as a banker^ son, is a gentleman by birth," she remarked: "be has condescended in becoming Lady Lydiard's steward. What I saw of him, when became here-Wtfihyou. prepossessed me in his favor. He has my confidence, Isabel, as. well as yours: be is every respect a superior person to Mr. Troy. Did you meet any friends, my dear, when you were out walking F'

The answer to this question produced a qtecifes of transformation in Miss rink. The rapturous rank-worship of her nature feasted, so to speak, on Hardyman's message. She Iboked taller and younger than usual she was all smiles and sweetness. "At last, Isabel, you. have seen birth and breeding under their right aspect," she said. "In the society of Lady Lydiard you cannot possibly have formed correct ideas of the English aristocracy. Observe Mr. Hardy* an, when be does me the honor to call to-morrow, and yon will see the differenoei" "Mr. Hardyman is your visitor, aunt not mine. I was going to ask £ou to let me re-

main up stairs in my room. Miss Pink was unaffectedly shocked.

or your jamenaM mower,

...

Thin

is what you learn at Lady Lydiard's," she observed. "No, Isabel, your absence would be a breach of good manners I cannot possibly permit it You will be present to receive our distinguished friend with me. And mind this," added Miss Pink, in her most impressive manner. "If Mr. Hardyman should by any chance ask why you have left Lady Lydiard, not one word about those disgraceful circumstances. which connect you with the loss of the bank note! I should sink into the earth if the smallest hint of what

e^ne tight to command your silence on hwwitofi salijssn aui dw'f pswOwir command it"

In these words foolish Miss Ptnk towed the seed for to corhe.

horvest of trouble that was soon

iTo be ContitHud.)

ARCTIC EXPERIENCES.

SOME OF THE HORRORS ENDURED BY GREELYS EXPEDITION. ,t.&. !K«

rhe Despair That Overtakes Met ia tie feegtoaa at Everlasting Ice txw af Hope—A Signal firoaa tjke 8ea—Through

Long and Wearjr Waiting.

Lieut. Greely rarely speaks of his Arctic experiences. But when he does a plpin statement of facts is the only eloquence required to convey an impression of the fullness of the horrore endured by his party.

They lay herded together beneath canvas stretched but three feet above the skin bags containing them. Night, starvation, and cold kept them company all that long winter. Three men occupied each bag. One could not turn over without the other two shifting places also. The bags were all frozen to the ground. Fifteen degrees below freezing point was the maximum temperature for many months. Lieut. Lockwood should share with Greely the glory of the expedition.' Obedient to command, the former was pent forward against his own advice. He returned a hero, having reached the point farthest to the north ever attained. A frozen sea stretched beyond to the ice-bound horizon.

Lieut. Harber, of another expedition, gives an idea of the despair that attends men in those regions of (everlasting ice. On one occasion his party had moored their boat to the shore. They remained in this position for Beveral days, Roping thus to escape unusual severities. 6n making observations at the end of this waiting they found that .they had been carried five miles to the. north. Their moorage was floating ice instead of terra flrma.

TOE PRECURSOR OF DEATH.

"In'a situation likd purs loss of hope means loss of life," sijys Lietit. Greely. ••When poor Lockwood crawled to my bag and whispered his despair I knew it to be the, precursor of death. It was invariably so." One by one they dropped qff. The end seemed to be at hand for all of them. Provisions were exhausted. They ate their boots and devoured the filthy skins that had covered them during the winter. The Arctic spring had brought them seaweed and diminutive shrimps, bat no strength. The sarvivors lay beneath their covering, with a frightful hurricane shaking the canvas like a death-rattle.

All hope was gone. No! "That is, a Signal from the sea," whispered Greelyi Each one heard it, bat all save he dodbted. The others declared faintly that it was only the call of a sea-lion* The least exhausted crawled to reconnoiter. He" never returned. The wind howled savagely, loader and louder, and finally tore down the canvas, covering the unconscious bodies as if with a shroud. Their comrade, overcome with joy. at finding the rescuers had refused to stir from their boat. Leaving him there, they made the search alone, thus causing hours of suspense for the dying men.

Though weary waiting, Mrs. Greely never despaired of her husband's return. Like poor Lady Franklip, her great devotion sastained her. The love for and of a woman like her might well support a thrpagh desperate trials. Beautiful children, too, one a stranger to the father, kept watch by their mother's side.' Mrs. Greely has both grace and nobility of character. These constitute her great charm The sight of this' young couple in thejr happy home is most eloquent in bringing to one's imagination the fall pathos and joy of their reunioq. after the agonizing separation of years. "I would not endure the misery of that period again," says Mrs. Greely, "for all thefame and glory that man ever enjoyed."—Washington Cor. Chicago Tribune.

Bernard Mccanlev*

Many an old theatre goer will hear with a melancholy feeling of the death of this well known actor. A man of Splendid physiqae, he ought to have been in his prime, for he was not as old as Henry Irving or Bdwin Booth. But he early contracted a passion for drink, which shortened his days at last. Only for this he would have -reached a high (dace amDng interpreters of the draina» As it was, he won distinction. He died of Brights disea»a. at St Vincent's hospital, New York dt/.

BJCRXARD, MACACLXT.

Bernard Macauley was born in New York city in 1837. In 1S&4 he appeared in that city as Armand Duval to Matilda Heron's fimniltej He was a handsome young man, with a rich voice and a brilliant eye. He went west and became a theatre manager. He had. theatres in Cincinnati and Louisville. In those cities he Was vtry popular, as man, manager and actor. He played himself the leading male roles in the stock companies he managed. He played Macbeth to Charlotte Cosh hum's Lady MdCbeth as her last appearance in Cincinnati before her death, during the tour she made after she became afliicted with the cancer that put'an end to her life. Macauley did not suffer even in comparison with Charlotte Cushman.'

One

man's a child. I rtand towards, I'll bet he boards."

cut ill f"f

1.).

Afterwards he fell into difficult^ fend lost his property. The last play of any note that be appeared in was "The Messenger from Jarvis Section,* with which he went on the road for several years. His Wife, who survives him was Rachel Johnson, herself a talented actress.'

Man's

Opinion of 'Enrts«i«l:

A western sight-seer being fold that the dried-up man of 110 pounds weight was -4. said: ZBf

B^arti^New Yoxkseoator,

-J .€

''Wt e'*v£ trr.Tiyi-t'1

Xte Mew York Koreaatlto Kxcbange.. to

branches of trade under.on$ roof. eIt is to be v,* a wholesale bazaar, 'on this pmcipsu of one of' the retail show^g ^rts^ vnly that here large quantities of goods will ,ba sold, and then only through samples. If the scheme is saoceaefal it will work a revolution in soma of the methods of New York business. Tha promoters of the enterprise bave so much faith Jniit that the have just completed a building tor the purposes of the exchange, of which the accompanying cot is aixexcellent^ representation.

TOT EXCHAWGB BtritDIIfO.

April 7, was the day set apart tor the dedication of thjs building. It is situated on the corner of Hudson and Harrison greets in the midst of the wholesale grocery and produce district

This exchange, though the youngest, promises to be the liveliest of them all. It was organised in 1893 by a few dealers in dairy products it now numbers some 800 pembers. Its success i? largely due to the catholic spirit of its governing committee. They realise that this is the age of combination and co-operation and consolidation, and' they hope to have the sellers of butter and boots, of dry goods and drug& as well as grocers meet tame floor for barter and extogether of} the change and the prices which rule here will likely rule the country.

*an Electric nrektoiv

The inventor of the Pan Electric ftlephoae and the head naturally. of tha companies formed in opposition to the Sell Telephone company is J. Harris Rogers. He is the soil of Dr. J. W. Rogers, a gradnatto of Princeton and a poet Of his son, J. Harris Rogers the inventor, a correspondent says "he Is fti the neighborhood of

30 years

of age, Be

is tall and slim, with a large head, something the shape and typ& of Foe's. His forehead is very broad and high, his eyes are deep set his nose is straight, while his thin-lipped mouth is shaded by a light brown mustache, Ihe lower part of his angular face is smooth ihaven. J. Harris Rogers waft .-educated la London and Paris, Be hin a good reputation is an electrical expert and was the special protege of Pmteswr Qenry, of tha

r., ?4*

J. BARMS ROOKBS.

binithsonian institution. Young Rogers haS a perfect dignity of manner, and one of the most musical of voices: Be is the very opposite of his father. He is as reserved and 20OI as his. father is expansive: and excitable. 3(ais one of those types of young men who are' not found Outside of the south. He is mild mannered, quiet, almost meek in appearance. A man who would never provoke a quarrel, but who. would not walk one inch to. avoid One. In peace he is- dovelike in a quarrel he is tigerish. His devotion to his father is one of the most marked traits of Us character. The two are almost inseparable. They never act without consulting eafch other and if they ever want to have a jolly time they go out together instead of hunting up stanmgem. J. Harris

Rogers has undoubted talents, and will cut a Mill larger figure in the history 01 our times, a .•. 1 ,J

Brevities.

ptitution.''

r-.

Nothing reduces a man's income like a visit from an assessor.—Philadelphia Call It is'^tetriblfe thing to be the unknown husband of a famous woman.—Atlanta Coa^

Sexton—Ye see, mum, that I've kept yer husband's grave green, mum. Widow—Yes, indeed, It reminds.me of my poor husband more than ever.—Newman Independent "Are we runpihg. on time ("said the conductor, repeating the nervous pawengarti question. "No, sir wears doing a strictly. cash business. Fare,, please^*•—Pathfinder

Guide.' First Trampr—Will that dog bite? Second Tramp—You must And apt for yourself. He may not be hungry he had half of my teg.—Judge.

Look hem judge," said the burglar, «I ain sol bad as you think I am. Only give me tntta^aif&Tll reform." And the judge gave hiin ^fteen years.—Somerville Journal.

An oHl lady whod cd reoenllyin London bequeathed to the doctor who had a'' ended her for the last thirty-flve years a huge box all'the bottles of medicine! he had

ever seiit her, unopened. The doctor cannot understand, for the life of him, what caused, .y her deaih- ^-Boston Transcript

-p

1 are now on the rolls of t^s pension the nrjnes of 17,212 women, widows

There 1

bureau of the soldiers of the war of 1813. There is 1 suspicion cbroad that a great many of the soldiers, who participated in that war were Mormons,—Norrisiown Herald.

Mr. Startup—I see that Richard Wagner's gondola is offered for .sale in Veqice.. Mrs. Startup—Wagner

sleepi fellow, fa^f

Wagner? Is that the

man? Mr. S.-r7No^ the musician know. The gondola was his