Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 December 1886 — Page 12

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THE HI OF A MINK.

BEET HALTS.

BJ»pyrlgbted, 1888, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., ud published by arrangement with them.]

Thoroughly appreciating the taste and fort of Harlowe's library, yet half envious of its owner, and half suspicions that his own earnest life for the past few years might have been different, Thatcher suddenly started from Ms seat and walked towards a parlor easel, whereon stood a picture. It was Carmen de Haro's first sketch of the furnace and the mine. "I see you are taken with that picture," said Harlowe, pausing with the champagne bottle in his hand. "You show your good taste. It's been much admired. Observe how splendidly that firelight plays over the sleeping face of that figure, yet brings out by very contrast its almost deathlike repose. Those rocks ore powerfully handled what a suggestion of mystery in those shadows I You know the painter?"

Thatcher murmured, "Miss De Haro," with a new and rather odd self-consciousness in speaking her nama "Yes. And you know the story of the picture, of coarse?*

Thatcher thought he didn't. Well, no in fact he did not remember. "Why, this recumbent figure was an old Spanish lover of hers, whom she believed to have been murdered there. It's a ghastly fancy, isnt itP

Two things annoyed Thatcher first the epithet "lover," as applied to Concho by another man second, that the picture belonged to him and what the d—1 did she mean by "Yes,0 ho broke out finally "but how did yo*gabitP "Ol£ I bought it of her. I've been a sort of patron of her «*ver since I found out how she stood towards us. As she was quite alone here in Washington, my mother and sister have taken her up, and have been doing the social thing." "How long since?" asked Thatcher. "Oh, not long. The day she telegraphed you 6b© came here to know what she could do for us, and when I said nothing could be done except to keep congress off, why she went and did it. For she, and she alone, got that speech out of the senator. But," he added, a little mischievously, "you seem to know very little about her?" "No—I—that is—I've been very Dusy lately," returned Thatcher, staring at the picture. "Does she come here often?" "Yes, lately, quite often she was here this evening with mother was here, I think, when you came."

Thatcher looked intently at Harlowe. But that gentleman's face betrayed no confusion. Thatcher refilled his glass a little awkwardly, tossed off the liquor at a draught, and rose to hisfeek "Come, old fellow, you're not going now. I shan't permit it," said Harlowe, laying his hand kindly on his client's shoulder. "You're out of sorts. Stay here with me to-night. Our accommodations are not large, but are' elastic. I can bestow you comfortably until morning. Wait here a moment, while I give the necessary orders."

Thatcher was not sorry to be left alone. In the last half hoar he had become convinced th^t his love for Carmen do Haro had been in some way most dreadfully abused. While he was hard at work in California, she was being introduced in Washington society by parties with eligible brothers, who bought her paintings. It is a relief to the truly jealous mind to indulge in plurals. Thatcher liked to think that she was already beset, by hundreds of brothers.

He still kept staring at the picture. By and by it faded away in part, and a very vivid recollection of the misty, midnight, moonlit walk he had once taken with her came back, and refilled the canvas with its magic.* He saw the ruined furnace the dark, overhanging masses of rock, the trembling intricacies of foliage, and, above all, the flash of dark eyes under a mantilla at his shoulder. What a fool he had been Had he not really been as senseless and stupid as this very Concho, lying here like a log? And she had loved that man! What a fool she must have thought him that evening! What a snob she must think him now!

He was startled by a slight rustling in the passage, that almost ceased as he turned. Thatcher looked toward the door of the outer office, as if half expecting that the lord chancellor, like the commander in "Don Juan," might have accepted his thoughtless invitation. He listened again everything was still. He was conscious of feeling ill at ease and a trifle nervous. What along time Harlowe took to make his preparations. He would look out in the hall. To do this it was necessary to turn up the gas. He did so, and in his confusion turned it out!

Where were the matches? Ho remembered that there was a bronze something on the able that, in tho irony of modern decorative taste, might hold ashes or matches, or anything of an unpicturesquo character. He knocked something over, evidently the ink— something else—this time a champagne glass. Becoming reckless, and now groping at random in the ruins he overturned the bronze Mercury on the center table, and sat down hopelessly in his chair. And then a pair of velvet fingers slid into his, with the matches, and this audible, musical statement: "It is a match you are seeking? Here is of them."

Thatcher flushed, embarrassed, nervous— feeling the ridiculousness of saying "Thank you" to a dark somebody—struck the match, beheld by its hrief, uncertain glimmer Carmen de Haro beside liini, burned his fingers, coughed, dropped the match, and was cast 'again into utter darkness. "Let me try!"

Carmen struck a match, jumped briskly on the chair, Lit the gas, jumped lightly down •gain, and said: "You do like to sit in the dark—eh So am I—sometimes—alone." "Miss de Haro," said -Thatcher, with sudden, honest earnestness, advancing with outstretched hands, "believe me, I am sincerely delighted, overjoyed, again to meet

She had, however, quickly retreated as he approachcd, ensconcing herself behind the

Jbigh

back of a largo antique chair, on the cushion of which die knelt. I regret to add

also that she slapped his outstretched fingers a little sharply with her inevitable black far as he still advanced. "We are not in California. It is Washington. It is after midnight I am a poor girl, and I have to lose—what you call—'a character.' You shall sit over there"—slio pointed to tho sofa—"and I shall sit re"—she rested her boyish hdad on the top of the chair—"and we shall talk, for I have to speak to you, Don Royal."

Thatcher took the seat indicated, contritely, humbly, submissively. Carmen's little heart was touched but she still went on over the back of the chair. "Don Royal," she said, emphasizing each word at him with her fan, "before I saw you —ever knew of you—I was a child. Yes, I was but a child! I was a bold, bad child—and I was what you call a—a—'forgaire' 1"

"You shall sit over there."

"A what?" asked Thatcher, hesitating between a smile and a sigh. "A forgaire!" continued Carmen, demurely. "I did of myself write the names of ozzer peoples when Carmen was excited she lost the control of the English tongue "I did write just to please myself—it was myonkle that did make of it money—you understand, eh? Shall you not speak Must I again hit you?" "Go on," said Thatcher, laughing. "I did find out, when I came to you at the mine, that I had forged against you the name of Micheltorena. I to the lawyer went, and found that it was so—of a verity—so! so! all the time. Look at me not now, Don Royal— it is a 'forgaire' you stare at." "Carmen!" "Hoosh! Shall I have to hit you again?" I did overlook nil the papers. I found the application it was written by me. There."

She tossed over the back of her chair an envelope to Thatcher. He opened it. "I see," he said gently, "you repossessed yourself of it!" "What is that—'r-r-r-e—possess?' "Why!"— Thatcher hesitated "you got possession of this paper—this innocent for-gery-^-again." "Oh! You think me a thief as well as a forgaire. Go away! Get up. Get out." "My dear girl "Look at the paper! Will you? Oh, you silly!"

Thatcher looked at the paper. In paper, handwriting, age and stamp it was identical with tho formal, clerical application Of Garcia for the grant. Tho indorsement of Micheltorena was unquestionably genuine. But the application was made for Royal Thateher. And his own signature was imitated to the very life. "I had but one letter of yours wiz your name," said Carmen, apologetically -and it was the best poor me could do." "Why, you blessed little goose ana angel, said Thatcher, with the bold, mixed metaphor of amatory genius, "don't you see "Ah, you don't like it—it is not good?" "My darling!" '•/'.-iK "Hoosh! There is also an 'old cat' up stairs. And now I have here a character. Will you sit down? is it of a necessity that up and down you should walk and awaken the whole house? There!"—she had given him a vicious dab with her fan as he passed. He sat down. "And you have not seen me nor written to me for a year?" "Carmen!" "Sit down, you bold, bad boy. Don't you see it is of business that you and I talk down here and it is of business that ozzer people up stairs are thinking. Eh?" "D—n business! See here, Carmen, my darling, tell me"—I regret to say he had by this time got hold of the back of Carmen's chair— "tell me, my own little girl, about—about that senator. You remember what you said to him?" "Oh, the old man? Oh, that was business! And you say of business,

4d—n.'

"Carmen!" "Don Royal!"

Although Miss Carmen had recourse to her fan frequently during this interview, the air, must have been chilly, for a moment later, on his way down stairs, poor Harlowe, a sufferer from bronchitis, was attacked with a violent fit of coughing, which troubled him all the way down. "Well," he said, as he entered the room, "I see you have found Mr. Thatcher, and shown those papers. I trust you have, for you've certainly had time enough. I am sent by mother to dismiss you all to bed."

Carmen, still in the arm chair, covered with her mantilla, di4 not speak. "I suppose you are by this time lawyer enough to know," continued Harlowe, "that Miss De Haro's papers, though ingenious, are not legally available, unless "I chose to make her a witness. Hatlowe, you're a good fellow! I don't mind saying t# you that these are papers I prefer that my trife should not use. Well leave it for the present—unfinished business."

They did. But ono evening our hero brought ]%s. Royal Thatcher a paper containing a touching and beautiful tribute to the dead senator. "There, Carmen, love, read that Don't you feel a little ashamed of your—your—youi lobbying "No," said Carmen promptly. "It was business—and if all lobbying business was as honest—well?

THE END.

John Snyder, the hoosier whose only reUet from the effects of a strange disease is in almost continual walking, shaves as he walks, and takes his meals on the go.

i&mSs

The people of the village slept Their houses were locked and lightless the earth itself slept. I only seemed to be awake. But no another was abroad as well as myself. Not a meditative soul, evidently, for he came toward me whistling and singing cheery songs. He had no vexations to be charmed away in the silence of the night, that was certain. There was a confident ring in his step as he ground his heel into the hard beaten snow of the highway, and there was assertion In the notes he whistled and sang.

As he came in sight I saw that he was an exceedingly spruce youth, with a finely developed figure, and, as near as I could see in tho white light of the stars and the snow, a beaming face. He was clad in velvet and fur, dressed with foppish card and nicety, and he carried a brand new broom. "Good evening," I said, as we ^vere about to pass each other on the narrow road. ,.:Q "Evening?" he said, interrogatively. "I never knew any such thing. I belong to the morning." "Has the boy been drinking?" thought A second look convinced me that he had not. He stuck the handle of his broom firmly into the snow as he stopped and spoke. I made up my mind that he was a youth brimming over with life and health and superfluous energy. That he was vain any one could see from his walk, his speech and manner. I wanted to prolong the conversation, and for want of, a better subject I mentioned the beauty and newness of the broom.

That pleased him. He smiled approvingly, shook the broom triumphantly and said: "Yes, it's a splendid broom, and it's well that it is, for I have a big contract of sweeping on hand, and am just on my way to begin." "You?" I look at him incredulously. Was the boy a merry lunatic? Going to do a job of sweeping, clad in velvet and fur? "Have you ever swept any in your life?" I asked. "No but I have studied sweeping, studied it in books." "Ah! and what are you going to sweep, may I ask?" "Why I'm going to sweep the earth," he said confidently, as he flourished the broom above his head, and then scratched around with it a moment in the snow, merely to show his expertness as a sweeper. "That's a large contract for a theoretical sweeper," I answered "I am curious to knew something about you." "Don't recognize me, eh? Well, how could you, since I am not yet born?" And he laughed aloud.

By this time I was convinced that I hw{ meta jolly and extremely original lunatia As he seemed harmless as well as mirthful, 1 didn't mind hearing him talk a little. "What particular style of dirt do you intend to sweep off the earth?" I asked. "Everything offensive and harmful," he plied, in a most positive voice. "All corruption, oppression, dishonesty in high places, and degradation in all places. Yes, and disease that, too, must go. And poverty alsct Everything that is hateful and makes th« heart bitter shall be swept away."

He seemed so serious and earnest about it that I pitied him for hia delusion. "How long will it take you to finish such a contract?" I asked, feeling a great compassion for his disordered mind with its humanitarian instincts. ".,

THE NEW SWEEPER.

"Oh, I shall make great changes in a twelvemonth," he said confidently. "The old earth will bo another place altogether before long. It needs nothing but a good sweeping. I and my broom will do the work and do it well Brush off the dirt and a new oiyler of things will inaugurate itself immediately. Look out for universal honesty, good titnes, safe banks, good wages, clean minded statesmen but really, I must hurry an, I have on appointment, I begin my sweeping in a few minutes." "But you haven't told me your name?" I called out as he started on, with his broom on his shoulder.

He looked back, a broad grin on his handsome young face, and answered, "Eighteen Eighty-Seven."

Before I recovered from my astonishment he added, "O, I can sweep Fll show you," and he went on in his vanity and ignorance. Poor, foolish inAxoerienced. hapov New

THE GAZETTE: TERRE HAUTE, INDIANA, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 23,1886

—and let blip in

That M&ndeth there alone, And waiteth at the door, There's anew foot on tho Moor, my friend. And a ne^/face at the door, my friend,

A now face at the door. —A. Tennyson.

THE SWEEPERS,

NEW TEAR'S STORY WHICH DESCRIBES HOW IT WILL BE. The evening was clear and cold, the stars smiled down upon earth so fondly that when I looked from my window late in the night I longed to go out under them, and Ipt their benign spell charm away the fret and fever of the day. I went out and walked slowly on and on, feeling the restful influence of the silence and the beauty of the night A crescent moon glittered in the sky, the myriads of stars blazed in unwonted glory, and the earth slept under a white blanket of snow. As I walked farther and farther in the cold, white silence, the everyday world, with its worry and vexation, fell away from me.

gYear. Turning about, I started toward home, and in a moment more I heard the village bells "ring out the old," and "ring in the new."

THE OLD SWEEl'ER.

"But you have done some things to felioitateyourself upon, haven't you?" I asked. "Yes, I think I have," ho said, looking •leased. "I set up the Liberty statu© in New 7ork harbor I inaugurated a new political party—I think I have—and I brought a big thought ivaVe, which is making people hunt up tneirfeouls and take some care of them, as well as of their bodies. I sowed some seed that will not bring forth thistles, mark me, and then I am so thankful that I wasn't a campaign year." "It is a little melancholy, though, to go away forever, isn't it?" "Forever!" he repeated, musingly, looking down at the white snow a moment "Forever! I am not sure that I do. This talk about the continued re-embodiment of souls that is going on now in the western as well as the eastern world is something 1 am interested in and have encouraged For aught I know I. may come again, with a new name and anew body, and further or finish what I have begun here. It is said that all that is dead shall live, and all that lives shall die. Let me quote Edwin Arnold a moment:

What hath been bringeth what shall be, and is. Worse—better—last for first and first for last: The angels in the heavens of gladness reap

Fruits of a holy past,

Tho devils in the under worlds wear out Deeds that were wicked in an age gone by Nothing endures fair virtues waste with time

Foul sins grow purged thereby. Win toiled a slave may como anew a prince F.. i- gentle worthiness and merit won Who ruled a king may wander earth in ra^

For flings done and undone.

Only while turns this wheel invisible, No pause, no peace, no staying place can be. Who mounts may fall, who faus may mount the spofces

Go round unceasingly. He finished, and taking afresh grip on his ponderous scroll, and using the handle of his worn out broom for a staff made ready ^to move on. Then he spoke again: "You, too. my friend, must die and live, and live and die. You may mest me again, but you will have changed. You will wear a new face, and be known by anew name. The sunrise comes. Peace be with you. Au revoir," and he passed on out of my sight forever,

I w» 'J('W|pw»f 'mppu^y^

I had not gone far when I met another traveler, a very different figure from the vel-vet-clad youth with tho confident air who had just left me. He was walking with a tired step, and was bent, as under a burden. As ho approached I saw that he was elderly, somewhat broken down, careworn as to countenanfe, threadbare as to garments, and under one arm he carried a tremendous scroll, and in the other hand the worst wreck of a broom I had ever laid eyes on. "I was impressed," as the clairvoyants say, with the belief that he was Eighteen Eighty-Six, and by that name I accosted him as cowtsjusly as I could, and offered him my sympathy. •'Sympathy?" said the old man, laughing till he shook. -Sympathy? Well that is really laughable. Thanks, my good friend, but I don't need it. Your congratulations would be better. If you have any sympathy to throw around recklessly give it to my successor. I know the size of the load he has to pick up. That is a fine broom he carries, too. Mine was as good a year ago. Look at it now! Hardly a spear of it remains, and with all its hard usage, I fear I have'nt left the earth much cleaner. I found the contract too mucji for me, though I started in as chipper as he does. I was chock full of reform ideas but you see how my efforts to clear up the earth have aged mfc, and how I have scuffed my clothes, as well as my soul. But I'm through with it now, and am going to disembody myself, and look on at tho other fellow awhile." His eyes had a humorous sparkle, and he certainly wore a look of happy relief. "Is it possible that'your r^ord lS So bulky?" I asked, pointing to his scroll. "Bulky!" said the old man, with a sarcastic grin. "If you want to know the heft as well as the bulk of it you should glance over it It is made up of deaths, riots, earthquakes, broken banks, trusted officials going wrong, wrecks, runaways, blow ups, wars, rumors of wars, the overthrow of the Liberal parliament in England, crazy monarchs, boodle aldermen, new recruits for Sing Sing, contested wills, hard times, strikes, suicides, sickness, murders, burglaries, thefts, and nearly every unpleasant thing you could think of. Think of the heartaches represented in this record. The thought of tnem oppresses me."

MAX ELTOX.

The days are made on a loom whereof the warp and woof are past and future time.— Emerson.

O Time! the beautlfler of the dead, Adorner of the ruin, comforter Ajul only healer when the heart hath bled—

Time! the corrector where our judgments err. The teat of truth, love—sole philosopher, For all besde are sophists, from thy thrift. Which never loses though it doth defer—

Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift. •, —Byron—Childe Harold.

Mrs. Gen. Grant will visit Washington during tho winter, her first visit to the capital sin.ee she went there with the general in the •nnter of 1SS4.

And to ground which has become packed and baked after plowing, as well as to leveling uneven land. For full descriptive oircular of sizes and prices write to, or call at A."

McFERKLN BROS,

West Side New Court House Square, TERRE HAUTE IND., where the "Acme* is For Sale.

MAB sTTNT Magazine For larg* or (mall punt, *11 •(•«. Th« «tronget tbootlng made. accuracy guarantMd, and tha only abiolntely ulo riflo on the market.

Invitations Issued-

Y6ry pretty invitations have been printed for the reception to be given at DowlingHall Monday evening, Dec. 27th, by Prof. Oekar Duenweg and the members of his dancing classes. Daneng will begin at 8 o'clock and carriages may be ordered at 1 o'clock. The admission for gentleman and lady will be 50 cents and for ladies 25 cents. A new class for beginners, ladies and gentlemen, commences Monday evening Jan. 3rd. Advanced class for laiies and gentlemen meets Tuesday evening, Jan. 4th new class for beginners, ladies, misses and masters, begins Tuesday afternoon, Jan. 4th, at 4:15 p. M.,and advanced class for ladies, misses and masters meets Wednesday afternoon, Jan. 5th, at 4:15 f. m.

Suffocated by Coal Gas.

OWCWHATI, Dec. 18—Frances Hagerman, aged 21, and her friend Lenora Johnson, an orphan, retired last night, leaving afire burning in the grate. This moraing about 7 o'clock a member of the family found the room filled with smoke, Frances dead and her friend dying. The Hagermans are a distingtused family of colored people living at 53 Carlisle avenue.

The President Invited to a Ball.5'1* WASHINGTON, Dec. 18—General MoMahon, of New York, and Maj. Thos. E. Sloan, of the "Old Guard," called upon the President yesterday and invited him to be present at "Old Guard" ball to be held at the New York Metropolitan Opera House on the evening of January 2nd. The president acknowledged the courtesy and accepted the invitation, •onditioned'ov his being able.

Prairieton. 7

PRAIBIETON, Dec. 17—[GAZETTE special.J—Corn husking is over—Church festivals are all the rage at present— Mc—says his chickens are getting so1, fat that they have quit laying hens. He will have to quit stall-feeding them, or he will get no eggs for Xmas—The cornet band is making a grand success— Prof. Evans has left the hotel and is boarding with Aunty Isabel where he gets lots of good things to eat, of which the Prof, is very fond—Our merchant will soon move in his new store.

A Valuable Short Horn.

Mr. Sheldon Swope has bought at a great Kentucky sale a valuable short horn bull which will be taken to his farm north of the city. "V

Charles Baur has returned from Chicago where he went to buy goods and to see liaura Moore as Galatea. He was delighted with her.

"W. H. Kelp, a prominent citizen of Clinton, was in the city today.

A rumor comes from Omaha that Victoria Morosini-Schilling is living in that city under an assumed name.

Graphic: Will the St. Louis temperance women please make note of the fact that France has a Goblet Ministry?

?•&»«•.

BAIiLARD GALLERY, BPORTING AND TA^ET^RgrE3^world_mnmt*. IllaitnUad Catalogs*. KASUN FIRS

SULLIVAN.

Revival—Funeral—The Holiday Trade. SULLIVAN, Dec. 17—[GAZETTE special j—An inmate of the poor farm was so badly burned last night that she died today. Rev. Bennet, of Worthington, is carrying on a series of meetings at the Baptist church. Ihe funeral of James M. Wilson, a former resident of Sullivan, occurred from the Presbyterian church today. Mr. Wilson for a number of years resided at Dixon, Mo., and was a brother of Hon. H. K. Wilson, now deceased. He leaves one brother, Harvey, to mourn his departure. Our merchants are putting their stores in their holiday attire in anticipation of a big trade during the holidays. The Odd fellows of this place are adding some of the first class young men of the town to their number of late.

\El/SLER

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As a preventative it tounexcelled fed from: one to three times a week, it not wards off

disease, but creates a good appetite, which is Indispensable in all stock. Refer to H. Hanker, Dairyman, J. W. King, Jno. MoBride, Clover land, W. Oraig, SeeleyvUle,Henry Zimmerman, belew Prairieton.

CHARLES ZIMMERMAN. Druggist, Thirteenth and Main.

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nEAFNESS!

Its causes, and a new and saoceesfol CUBE at yoar own home, by

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York. Mwttea ttii)ap«.

It is reported that the fox terrier threatens to supersede the pug as a laky's pet in fashionable circles in England.

Maud Smith, a Nashville girl who is singing in opera, has disguised her identity under the name of Silva Dolaro.

At a recent afternoon reception given by Mrs. Reese of Chicago the table is & described as being a "'symphony in vel- •, low."

Two Washington ladies p066668 &> •., much bric-a-brac that they are com pell- •_ ed to move into a larger house to accommodate it.

The Boys Paradise.

Santa Claus makes his headquarters this year at A. G. Austin & Co's. Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus may be seen any night very busy loading up with skates, sleds, steam engines, tool chests, combination safes, boys guns, wash tubs and wash boards, happy in the thought of the *ide eyed wonder and yells of delight that they shall hear on Christmas morning.