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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-4-12, Page 7W laces You',ee Down. • ,what legions of " friend*" always bless us When golden sueoese lights our way 1 r• Ftow they smile as they softly address us, So o,ordial; good-humored and gay. But oh'. when the sun o$ prosperity Hoe not --then how qulekly they frown,. And cry out in tones of severity, ��+ "Slink the man, don't you see he is down, What thoug h; When you, know not a sorrow, , Your heartwasopen as day, 'Awl your " friends," when they wanted eo borrow ISYou'd oblige send no'er ask them to "pay." What though not a soul you e'er alighted, And you wandered about through the town Your friends become very near sighted, And don't seem to sen you when down. ;When you're "up" you are loudly exalted, And traders all sing out your praise, "• When you're down you have greatly, de- faulted, And they really " don't fanny your ways." Your style was " tip' -top " 'hen you'd money, So sings every sucker and clown, But now 'tis exceedingly funny, Things are altered " because you are down," Ph give me the heart that forever Is free from the world's selfish rust, ;And the soul whose high noble endeavor Is to raise fallen men from the dust ; :And when in adversity's ocean A victim is likely to drown, -es All hall to the friend whose deyotion, Will lift up a man when he's down. TII ¶IF OF 9 PEER. PREFACE. The action of this story commences acv .eral years before Chicago attained its present prominence. The life described in the earlier chapters is probably no More typical of a suburb of Chicago than -of any village where New: England in - ''fluences predominate. It is entirely American, and many, of that countrys best citizens have been brought up amid Mauch surroundings. Within a decade or so a new phase of life has appeared in several American cities. It is imported, and like many another immigrant, it is not the best production of its native land The Eng- lish life depicted in the, story, is a some- Lwhat superficial sketch—as the view of a foreigner of limited experience must necessarilybe—of an existence, the foi- bles of which, rather more than the vir- tues, are being transplanted to our .shores. In England this life is de - Ahmed from tradition ; in America it is entlueed by emulation. In spite of its splendid trappings it is questionable (whether it is as beneficial to our na- tional character as the simple though restricted existence it tends to displace. CHAPTER I. On the edge of a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan Hugh Vincent sat quiet- ly smoking his pipe. It was a Sunday •:afternoon in early, September, sultry and calm. The sun had begun to sink behind the oaks and maples which dot- ,ted, the bluff, and the dark shadows of, r;the trees were gradually lengthening a- long the green turf. Away to the North and South stretched the coast line, until, growing fainter and fainter, it became lost in the hazy atmosphere of the aut- umn day, or was obscured by the smoke - of the distant city. Some hundred feet below the bluff the waters of the lake splashed lazily upon the sandy beach; in the offing the white sails of numerous craft glistened in the fading sunlight ; and the rythmical throbbing of a north- ward bound steamer's paddles came faintly over the unruffled surface of the ,haters, while the smoke from her funnels • settled along the horizon in thin, black • streaks. Hugh Vincent leaned his back against a tree, clasped his hands tightly about his knees up to his chin and began to think.. If you had met him sauntering along • Piccadilly you might have passed him unnoticed in the throng of black coated Englishmen which frequents that thor- pughfare, but here on the shores of this Western lake you would, have easily recognized that he was not a native and probably would have had little diffi- culty in divining, the land of his birth. ;The, flaxen hair and frank blue eyes, the shapely mouth and earnest, clear cut , nose; the light moustache — almost white in contrast to the swarthy cheeks —and the stalwart, tweed clad figure marked him unmistakablyas a repre- sentative of the sturdy race which has (fought England's battles by, land and sea. He sent a puff of blue smoke upward auto the calm air and gazed at the lake. A vision df the varied events of his ear, - •per passed rapidly through his mind. He was an Eton boy again, stroking - his crew at Henley, Then, filled with all the hopes and ambitions of youth, he was leaving Sandhurst to join his regi- ment—the Second Battalion Welsh Guards. He smiled when he remembered himself, an unhappy subaltern, routed out in the early morning after a late , carouse to take charge of a signalling party in Hyde Park. He could see a forlorn young scamp sleepily watching . a flag flapping in the brisk morning wind and cursing the luck which had torn him from a warm bed at so un- • chrietianlike an hour. Then there were guard mountings at --St. James' Palace, with the band play- ing in the quadrangle, morning exer- •'cise in the park, parades for .royal func- tions and marches past under the swel- stering weight of a ponderous " bear- skin. This was the irksome side of a guard - ,man's life. He turned from it to the pleasant features o'f bis military career. In imagination .he was again in the royal enclosure of Ascot, nodding to numerous friends in the well-dressed Ahrong, or was trying to keep his toes from being trod upon at Lady Twirling - ton's crush. Then he was anxiously watching his favorite gallop along the •crest of Goodwood Hill, or astride of a •t+mart pony, was rushing over the green turf at Hurlingham after a little roll- ing ball. It was a pleasant life, easy, ',careless and exciting ; but there was another picture not so bright. The memory of his father's death and his small inheritance filled his mind ; and the thought of his mother's plans for economy and his own extravagant en- deavors to retain his popularity in an •expensive regiment made him pensive. Then he saw the laughing gray eyes of Madge Barclay gleaming tantalizingly in the, dim light of a Leicestershire hearth 'fire, and when he remembered the cruel way in which she had thrown him over !for the proprietor of a Burmah ruby mine .ea, resentful feeling rose in his heart. That was seven years ago. He was Only twenty-three at that time, and he paw now that the heartless treatment -of Madge Barclay had changed the en- tire course of his. life. He had loved 'fuer with all the fervor of a first love, and the effect of her course had been to driver him into a series of reckless tiliinges on the turf, ending in financial ruin. Iso attempted to pull himself to- gether, but hie means Were so hope- lessly exhausted that he was compelled to throw up his eommissin and come to America in the hope of winning his f or - tune in the Northwest. Like so many: others he met endless elisappointments and after a year's labor, on a Manitoba wheat farm and a fruit- less season of ranobing in Wyoming he drifted to Chicago, almost penniless, in search of work. Hie mother had died shortly after he left England, and bo was too proud to apply for help to., his cou'sint Lord War- rington. This peer and hise two young sons were bis only male relatives, and his relatione with them had ,always been etraiued. His only .cbanco for success lay in his own efforts, On the recom- mendation of fellow countrymen he ob- tained a subordinate position in the Wholesale boot and shoe store, of James. Morse & Co., where, after six years of conscientious attention to business he worked his way from the lowest round of the mercantile ladder to the position of, phief buyer at a salary of a8,000 per year. it was a strange position for Mr. Hugh Vincent, of the Welsh Guards, and he often smiled when ho thought what the people who once .knew the smart young soldier of that name would think of the hardworking clerk whose life was spent among cases of ready made boots and shoes. In London Vin- cent had been 'unable to imagine an existence without exciting pleasures,but in Chicago, unlike the average of his countrymen, ho assimilated the life about him, and became thoroughly a part of the active, rushing world of business. This was perhaps caused by his un -English susceptibility to sur- rounding influences. Although he re- tained most of the outward character- istics of hes race, ho endeavoured to ap- pear in sympathy with the energetic spirit of Chicago life. He was ex- tremely sensitive and disliked being con- sidered different from those about him, so, unlike many of his countrymen liv- ing in the west, he strove to become American and to obliterate all traces of his insular breeding. Some of his British traits were, nat- urally, ineffaceable, but during his seven or eight years of Western life he man- aged to adopt many of the manners and colloquialisms of America. His pipe, even was a 'luxury never permitted in the presence of strangers, but reserved for his hours of solitude. Vincent's adaptable temperament was a fortunate possssion, as It enabled him to make many friends who would have been repulsed by the natural shyness and reserve of most of his countrymen. The people with whom he was thrown were to be won by genial, hearty manners, and his quick insight into their na- tures enabled him to beeome exceedingly popular in a business way. Vincent's pipe was smoked out. He tapped the bowl against his boot heel, knocked out the ashes and continued his musings. His past he considered a med- ley of disappointing experiences, and as for his future—he felt the pressure of two soft hands on his eyes and heard a merry, musical laugh behind him. He jumped to his feet. There, before him, her face radiant with overflowing mer- riment, was a young girl of about 20. She was so tall that her eyes were al- most on a level with his own, and her figure, though fully developed, seemed to possess the lightness and grace of a much slighter person. Her complexion was pale and clear, but there was a rich color in her cheeks, and she had mobile red lips which seemed made to smile perpetually. Her soft, wavy hair was of a coppery brown and her eye- brows and eyelashes of a darker shade. She had abroad, high forehead, and her bluish gray eyes, set wide apart, gave to her face a look of frankness and sin- cerity. Her gown was of some fluffy, white material, which 'draped gracefully about her tall form, and she wore a straw sailor hat pushed jauntily backward. There in the twilight she seemed to Vin- cent the most glorious creature he had ever beheld, and as he looked into her eyes his heart gave a quick throb of pleasure. "My darling," he said, taking both her hands and drawing her towards him as he kissed /her. She tosed her head back with a slight motion of resistance and then permitted him to place his arm about her waist and her head upon his shoulder. " You mast have been far away," she said. " You did not hear me coming." " I was thinking over my past sins, Laura," he answered. extending the influences of the Congre gational Church, and where bet husband ;night enjoy undisturbed his hours of leisure. Each week -day morning for seventeen years James Morse had driven up to the little station at a quarter be- fore ;8 to take the train for town, and each evening at 6 his modest buggy might have been met bearing its owner from the station to his house, His life was ordered with the regular- ity of clockwork, and the interests of the other members of the family, were subordinated to his desires, For seventeen years the only joint on the family table bad been beef or mut- ton (although there had been an oc- casional chicken on Sunday) because seventeen 'years the same maidservant. had passed the same blue flowered plates in the samo provincial manner. The maid had grown old and toothless in the service, and her glossy black Locks had long ago turned to gray, but to the end of her days she would shuffle around the Mosses'' board per- forming her duties with the familiarity which she considered the prerogative of her many years of faithful service. James Morse was so much the slave of habit that, having in his early years begun the thrifty practice of accumu- lating money, this habid had continued until he was counted among the rich- est men in the big city. But his tastes remained the safde. Two suits of the glossiest broadcloth a year and a straight brimmed hat with mourning band, worn for twenty years in mem- ory of his father, where his only, ex- travagances, so while his assets pro - grossed geometrically his expenditures remained as small as ever. Mr. Morse's economics were not in- spired by miserly motives, but purely by an inability to conceive more ex- trava'gant ideas. Had he altered his :. mode of living he would have been made 'wretched by innovations for which he had no taste. His wife spent the greater portion of her life demurely knitting in the corner of the sitting -room, anxiously watching her husband in order that she might an- ticipate his every wish. When he was away she plodded about her work, sup- erintending the affairs of her little household and devoting her leisure mo- ments to exchanging small talk with the wives of the pillars of the church. She was happy in her own prosaic way, and her only care was an undue worry over the demoralizing tendencies of some of her more liberal minded neighbors. But there was one element of bright- ness in this restricted household. Laura Morse was a wild, joyous rose of nature, in whom were centered the loves and hopes of both parents. Her merry laughter echoed from the cheerless walls and she flitted in and out like te ray of sunshine dancing through the gloom of cloistered halls. Laura's artless manners, like her actions, were inspired by a heart bub- bling over with the warmest senti- ments.. She had, it is true, spent three years at an Eastern school, which, if not the most fashionable of its kind, had been the means of giving her a sound education in the more useful branches of knowledge. During one vacation she had made a flying trip to the continent of Europe with a party of girls, personally conducted by the principal of the school. But in spite of this fleeting glance across another world, most of her life had been passed among the grass -covered ravines of Highland Glen. She was still a child of nature, whose overflowing spirits might occasionally produce upon strangers the impression that her manner was too boisterous. But this would result from a complete misconception of her charac- ter. Her mother was often shocked at the unconventionality of her behavior, and would lecture her upon the neces- sity of more repose ; but Laura failed to recognize that mere manners were a necessity of life, and in a few minutes, forgetting the parental admonition, she would romp over the hills again, her brown curls streaming in the wind, her laughter echoing through the woods. Laura possessed the love, of every villager. She practiced unobtrusive char- ity as naturally as she breathed, and the poor and the siek grew, to look for her visits, which brought comfort,• and health almost, so generous and restful were they. When Mr. Morse first brought his young English clerk to Highland Glen it had been with the desire to become better acquainted with a man in whom he had discovered admirable qualities. Vincent soon became a regular Sunday visitor. He was attracted from the first by Laura's beautiful face, but it was some time before he was able to appre- ciate the swedtness of her character. Ho had been accustomed to the sub- dued and artificial manners of another society,• so her impetuous actions seemed almost hoydenish and her frank- ness appeared bold ; but gradually he grew to understand the gentle, womanly qualities of her nature, and, in time, to feel a peaceful, satisfying love for this wild prairie rose, as he called her. Vincent felt none of the reckless ardor he had experienced in his passion for Madge Barclay, but there grew, up in his heart a tender •affection which seemed the realization bf the purest kind of love. He often felt a desire to restrain her impetuousness and subdue her uncop- ventional manners, but he dismissed these feelings with the thought that in America such things might not be severely criticised; and that, after all, frankness, even though brnsque,was more to be desired than esthetically tempered insincerity. Still, he often smiled when he thought how shocked the average British matron would be to see her throwing snowballs with the school boys. Meanwhile Laura felt a real pleasure in talking with a man whose experi- ence had been so varied and whose ideas of life were so different from her own. She delighted in his descriptions of the reviews at Aldershot and the levees at St. James' Palace. She could hear in imagination, the music of the bands and see the glitter of the bayonets and the brilliant uniforms. She began to know by name the famous London beauties of his dsyy, and she drew a mental picture of the row in the season and the Ascot enclosure. The attraction of opposite natures for one another is proverbial. Thus Laura found; a subtle charm in the quiet, well- bred manner and subdued voice, of the handsome Englishman. She did not fail to notice that he was unlike the men she had known,and possesed the easy air of refinement which, the world over, . distinguished the (cosmopolite front the provincial When once a woman begins to recognize that a man possesses qualities which in her mind raise him above his fellows, the, first step toward love is 'taken. During the summer Vincent came to the Morse house nearly every Sunday, and as he and Laura were left to them- selvos during the afternoon, the seldom failing element of proximity assisted rapidly the development of love. When their friendship reached an intimacy where an interchange of eenfidencee be- came natural, Vincent told Laura much Ot hal early life, and detailed to her his unfortunate affair -with Madge Barclay. Sho felt then the first twinge of the jealousy 'which precedes every love, and " I suppose a man before his marriage feels like a criminal before execution," she said laughing. " He wants to go into the unknown world with his sins forgiven." Then she came close to his side and added petulantly : " I can't bear to think you have a past life yu conceal from me. If there is anything I don't know I would rather hear it now than find it out after we are married." " My sins are mostly follies," Vincent answered. " I have always been a suf- ferer." Then more sinceeely : " If you really wish to know what I am think- ing about; I will tell you. I was wait- ing for you to finish your solemn talk with your mother, and I began to think how stormy this lake was the last time I was here and how peaceful it is now, and I thought it was like my life." " Then you mean that you are happy now, don't you, dear ?" " Yes, sweet one, I am the happiest man in the world. I don't know what kind fairy guided me to your father six years ago, but she has smiled upon me ever since. In making me his clerk she put mo in the way of becoming his son-in-law." " Yes, and of making his wife ` mad ' by being late at tea," laughed Laura. " Come, Vincent, I'll beat you across the ravine. A kiss if you catch me." Like an untamed fawn she darted away from him and ran lightly over the turf, her dress fluttering in the breeze and her cheeks glowing with excitement. Vincent started in pursuit, enjoying the sight of this beautiful creature flying, down the path before him. Her hat fell off. He stopped to pick it up She gained upon him, and darting down the steep path through the ravine which sep- arated them from her home, she was for the moment lost to sight. Through the woods came the echo of her musical laugh, then as he reached the edge of the ravine, Vincent could see her dashing along the path before him. He settled down to the pursuit then, and over the loose gravel they ran reck- lessly, with the dry twigs cracking under their feet and the leaves of the trees brushing against their faces. It was dangerous sport. Tho path was steep and rough and covered with •loose stones, but Laura had lived always among the ravines of this lake shore country. She rushed fearlessly on, reach- ed the bottom first, leaped lightly across the little etream flowing through the glen and darted up the opposite bank but Vincent's long strides began to tell and before she could reach the top he held her, panting and exhausted, in hie strong arms and snatched the promised prize from her lips. 'Vincent's employer lived at Highland Glen, a suburban village on the shore of Lake Michigan, some eighteen miles from Chicago. The Morses had moved there a year after the birth of their daughter Laura, in order that their child might have the benefit of the 'country air ; and, as they, were un- assuming people, unsullied with the gay life of the elty, they found in the quiet suburb a congenial home, where Mrs. Morse could devote, her energies to from that hour the lauglisliMaa held the foremost place, in her heart. When Vineeut finally told her that his Rainer lave waa dead, and protested that flus affection for her was far sweeter and more tender than that youthful passion, she was righteucd at the thought that me mightnot be sincere.. Were he to meet Madge Barclay again, she feared, the old love might return. It did not S00112 possible that a man of his varied experience could love a country girl like her, but his protestations seemed so sin- cere that, impelled by the depth of her own love, she promised to become his wife., CHAPTER Il. Punctuality was the guiding maxim of James Morse's career. Under no cir- cumstances would he permit a meal to be retarded for a dilatory member of the family, so Laura, followed by Vin- cent, bursting into the dining -room, found her parents already, seated at tea. Pursuant to the Sunday evening cus- tom there was a red damask cloth upon the board, and the edibles were of the meagre nature which was calculated to render the Monday appetites of the fam- ily abnormal. Mr. Morse never per- mitted hot dishes at the " Sabbath evening repast, so the young people,their appetites whetted by their recent exer- cise, were condemned to the unsatisfac- tory consumption of tinned meats, bread and preserves. Vincent sighed involun- tarily as he glanced at the cheerless viands before him, and seating himself opposite Laura he began to make the best of the poor comfort ,which Mr. Morse's piety afforded him'. When Laura's parents chanced to be alone they seldom conversed. Mrs. Morse, having devoted the greater por- tion of her life to studying the wishes of her husband, was unable to discern from the expression of his, features the thoughts and desires he might be experi- encing at the moment, so words were unnecessary to the conveying of his ideas, and as he was unusually absorbed in his own thoughts he seldom felts de- sire to hear the sound of his wife:s voice. When their daughter wad pres- ent, however, they were compelled to talk, for her sparkling nature would not permit silence. On the presentoccasion her mind was so filled with the prepara- tions for the approaching wedding that in spite of her fatiguing run she could scarcely find the time for eating. " Just think, mother," she said, hast- ily finishing a delicate slice of bread covered with strawberry jam, " we aren't going to let a soul into the church• until the train comes from town." " Why ?" asked her mother, not seeing the force of this arrangement. " Because it wduldn t be fair to let the Highland Glen folks get all the best seats before the Chicago people get here." " That will never do," interposed her father. " Some of the church members will be at the door two hours before the time. Guess you'll have to let 'em into their own church." " I don't care if they do come," replied Laura detei'ininedly. "They can wait until the time they're invited for." " Laura," said her father reproving- ly, " you forget that those people are your neighbors."• " No, I don't ; but the people who are interested enough to cone all the way from Chicago to see me married ought to get the beet seats." " There, there, Laura. We will not argue the matter any more at present, he said. " It is entirely, a question for the pastor to decide." " Did I tell yon, mother," Laura con - tinned, the approaching wedding still foremost in her thoughts, " that Ra- chel Brown doesn't like the way her dress is ordered and is bound to have it changed ? I only asked her to be brides- maid because you made me.; I don't like cousins, anyway." " Laura, Laura 1" 'cabled her mother. " Remember she is your father's niece." " I don't care. I think it's just too mean for anything to go and make a fuss after the other girls have got their dresses. Don't you, Hugh ?" Vincent's natural tact invariably prompted him to hold aloof from argu- ments in 'the Morse family ; so he mut- tered something about imagining that a little persuasion would arrange the matter satisfactorily, and then he changed the subject by asking Mr. Morse if he had a "decided preference for any one among the mayorality, candidates in the coming election. " If you and father are going to talk polities, I'm going away," interrupted Laura. " Laura, Laura!" said Mr. Morse, in a grieved tone, " don't be so abrupt. What have you been told about the con eideration of your elders ?" Laura did not reply. Her father re• proved her so frequently that she had grown into the habit of treating these admonitions in a somewhat heedless manner. She adored him, but their ma tures were so distinctly opposite that he never quite understood her character, He spent much of his time in needless worrying over what he considered Laura's disrespect and lack of venera- tion, and intensified those characteris- tics by unnecessary nagging. He was re- stricted in his judgment by the narrow limits of his feelings, and having con- ceived his own idea of propriety he could not understand his daughter's light hearted nature: Her father's continuous admonitions about trivial matters made Laura often heedless of his words, but in great questions of duty she was botb ready and willing to accept his advice. Sho invariably turned to her mother for sympathy, but Mrs. Morse was so much the slave of her husband's wishes that she seldom gave utterance to her own feelings whatever they might be. Yet e sympathetic glance or a word from her lips, gently spoken, would usually calm the threatening family sky. On this occasion, however, the politica] discussion was averted by m disinclina- tion on the part of the men to enter in• to an argument. The elder people re- lapsed into their usual silence, while Laura and Vincent became absorbed in an attempt to satisfy the cravings of their vigorous young appetites. When they had finished the only visible re- mains of the repast were two jam -stain• ed plates and numerous crumbs scattered over, the red flowered cloth: After they were all seated Mr. Mom solemnly opened the Bible, read the fifteenth chapter of Leviticus in a mo- notonous tone, and then, the family all kneeling with their faces turned toward the backs of their chairs and their el- bows resting on the seate, he indulged in fifteen minutes of extemporaneous prayer for the granting of all virtues and the exorcising of every vice: Dux, ing this' lengthy service Vincent, through lack of regular practice, felt hie knees grow numb with fatigue,and he was ob- liged to refit first on one and then oil the others He fidgeted in his place and glanced shyly about the room to see if Laura were as undevotional as himself, then, being unable to fix attention upon the monotonous. appeals of Mr. Morava he began to think about mundane things, He knew he wee a hypocrite, for hi spite of his attepts to affiliate himself with Western life he was still contempt - acme of it. HO loved Laura—of that he felt sure --but Ile would like to wean her from her restricted home influences and instil in her; heart the sentiments of his !lathe land,; Re 'was still au lfshman, through and through, acid hs felt. ashamed When be thought that his efforts to become American were, aftee al•1 but feeble stemroneted in great ine�aure by self-interest. g For a moment he Wished that be ;nig i take Laura back to England and .then be smiled inveluntarily at the absurd ity of this idea, She was so essentially a child of the West that he eould not conceive her living in the subdued at- mosphere of his native land. These. thoughts passed through his mind and Hien he began mechanically, to count the words of the prayer„ Later in the evening Laura and Vin- cent were swinging together in a ham- mock stretched between two posts of the veranda. It was brilliant moon- light The tall trees standing out against the sky, like huge phantoms, cast outlines of their shadowy forms upon the lawn in great, black patches, while mingling with the mournful rustling of the leaves came the hoarse croaking of frogs in a neighboring pond and the occasional cry of a whippoorwill. The moon shod a light of daylike brilliancy, and, except in the shadows of the trees, the faintest objects were easily distin- guishable. The atmosphere bore the first slight chill of autumn, so that Laura crept close to Vincent's side and drew about her shoulders the protecting folds of a Roman blanket. As they lazily swung to and fro,listeningthe melancholy to h swaying of the leaves, a plaintive spirit came over her and she began to think about the future and wonder if Vincent's love would last always. Remembering Madge Barclay and his former life, she looked up into his face with a little trouble in her eyes. " Are you quite sure you will always love me, Hugh ?" she asked, anxiously.. "If anything should change your love it would kill me." Vincent did not reply for a moment. Curiously a dim vision of Madge Bar- clay's tantalizing eyes had been in his mind at the time. It was only a faint echo of the past, he thought, and he per- suaded himself that it was the dying breath of that old love. He leaned down and kissed Laura, laughing in a reas- suring way. " Of course I shall always love yon." " I was thinking of that other woman," she replied, sadly. " I can't bear to think that you ever cared for anyone but me." " I never did, really. That was an unsatisfactory, excited feeling. It wasn't love." Laura was silent a moment. " Are you quite sure yon would love me," she finally said, " if you saw me among those beautiful English women you told me about ?" " Why, of course I should. How foolish it is for yon to think otherwise 1" Vin- cent said this in the injured, protesting tone a man usually assumes when his love is questioned ; but he felt a sense of thankfulness that there was no possi- bility of this assertion being put to a test. At a signal from Mr. Morse the four people arose from the table and walked across the hall to the parlor. This apartment bore an air of trim propriety and reflected in a great measure the characteristics of its master. On its four walls, decorated with a plain paper of modest pattern, reposed walnut framed engravings of the departure of the Pilgrim Fathers, Lincoln and his Cabinet, Washington Irving and his friends and other subjects of American historical lore. The windows were hung with stiffly starched lace cur- tains, and on the flowered velvet carpet were several straight-backed chairs whose measured positions and demure upholstery gave to the room a prim air of respectability. (To be continued.), 3IB. LACIIMMAN INIDIGNANT. Elis Wife Was Given the Grand Whirl and Inverted. Mrs. Herman Lackman, jun., of Ninth and Cutter streets, Cincinnati, is lying 1n a sick bed, the result of a frolic in Corryville. On the occasion Mr. and Mrs. Lackman formed two of a very gay crowd assembled at a friend's house to celebrate a very happy event. The evening was spent in good cheerr and many games were enjoyed. Several of the ladies were being han- dled without gloves, when one of the young men present proposed that Mrs. Lackman be given the grand whirl. She attempted to run to an adjoining room to seek her husband, when she was caught and held as in a vice. She screamed and called for help, but the laughing gentlemen would not desist. and the grand whirl was given. Then she was peremptorily stood upon her head and compelled to remain that way for some little time. She was then allowed to stand, but when she made an effort to move forward she fainted and fell into the arms of one of the party. The entire crowd was now thoroughly frightened, and restora- tives were applied. A physician in the assemblage attended the sick lady, and as soon as she was able to depart her husband called for his buggy and drove home. The unfortunate ending of the festivities broke up the party and all went early. It is understood that nervousness is the difficulty, and that while at first a disorder of the heart was threatened, this danger has been avoided, says the Commercial Gazette. It was also feared that other and more serious troubles might ensue, but the assurance is given that no further complications are likely to follow. mom wItinomis,; r.+. It lolieenerts Ip );rglend sad ea the ethers i1*de ,et the Cleats / icl. In England, writes M. Crawford im London '.l'inth, an elopement ending frit a wedding is not thought 111 of. Im Ireland widow ladies with many for- tuneless .daughters and pretensions tt WO gentility wink .at, their girls elope fug with 'well-to-do tradesmen, The see-, ue,bonor of the family is thus caved and: o:d maids tars maidenhood avoided. Younger sur-, x do not lose east° the fiction being accepted that it' was against their mother's consent that the elder daugh tens took their head. I know an Eng-?. lisp lady, the daughter of a 'squire' o standing, who sat in Parliament for hj" county. She was proposedfor by, ea gentleman, not quite 80, of as good point ition as her owu, with the advantage* of a handsome person, a showy profess sion, a sinecure office and an estate that brought in a good income. Her familia were delighted at her conquest. But shat refused to be married in a eomniouplaese manner, and determined to run away.? It was no use trying to persuade her to go to the parish church with a bevy of bridesmaids behind her. No, she should have romantic incidents brought into her marriage, and she did run away', and nobody thought the worse of her for' her escapade, though everyone thought her a little eccentric. Such a wedding would be impossible in France. A young lady under ago wanting to elope would be Iocked len in a convent. The marriage of a rune away French pair in Italy, even though the bride's mother was present atthe: nuptial ceremony in a chureh, would" have no weight either in the eyes of the law or of society, It may surprise your to hear that in France boys are allowed• to read "The Vicar of Wakefield," but that the sweet novel is often snatched. out of the hands of girls of genteel= standing. The objection to it lies in tho readiness of Olivia to be allured. by Squire Thornhill into a runaway! match. A French wedding and the preliminary; negotiations must, to be respectable, ba accomplished with as mueh ceremony as the signing of an international treaty. This rule holds good from the petty; bourgeoisie upwards. The gpeetce of Ilse Bracken. A Taynuilt correspondent writes : The other day whilst making the ascent of Ben Cruachan, along with a friend, we were fortunate enough to witness what in this country must be a very rare spectacle, viz., the phenomenon known as the "Spectre of the Brocken." We were proceeding along the ridge or sad- dle of the mountain towards Glen Noe, when the spectre, appeared: At this point the ground slopes very sharply down on either side, and, whilst the val- ley to the left was clear of cloud, that to the right was filled with a thick white cloud rising to the levdi of our feet, Behind us, contending with the higher cloud layers, the sun shone out fitfully. The apparition was in the form of a cir- cular disc of a dull yellow color, which seemed to lie upon the white cloud be- low us, being divided off from it by a broad rainbow -colored border ; whilst on the disc our shadows were east by the sun, every movement being reflected as on the screen of a magic lantern. The disc appeared to be about 30 yards off from us, and pei"haps 12 feat in diameter, tho shadows being about life size. , Tho (Spectacle lasted for about a couple of minutes, varying in intensity with the brightness of the light. My friend, who had a camera with him, was preparing to take the spectre, when it disappeared. —Scottish American. "Now," said the Warden to the for- ger who had just arrived at the prison, well set you to work. What can you do best ? Well, if you'll give mer a week's practice on your signature, 111 sign your official papers for: ;ou," said the prisoners A WALLOW PLANTATION. A New affidavits- Being Fostered ta- Missouri A new industry that has sprung up at Allenton, Mo., is the cultivation on ea large, scale of willows, to be used in the manufacture of willow ware. The wile low plant is obtained by cutting up live willow twigs about 12 inches in lengths. These are sharpened at one end and planted in rows, being inserted in the: ground to a depth of from six to eight inches. As soon as the plants commencei. to shoot the work of weeding and cults:e rating begins and is kept up until the: crop is laid by, the same as in the cults -r vation of corn. The canes ripen in thei. autumn, when the frost strips the leaves• from them and causes the bark to turn to a glossy brown color. When matter, ed the willows are, under favorable cir- cumstances, from 10 to 12 feet in length., They are next cut and tied up into bundles, like rye, carted to the hot' houses, where they are subjected to ea sweating process, by which the bark he softened and bleached, and afterward* peeled off by being drawn through al machine specially constructed for then. purpose. This sweating process oven- pies about a month to complete. An ale ternative method for achieving the same; purpose consists in steaming the wile- lows, il .lows, which can be done in the space oT• a few hours only. It has the objection, however, of discoloring the stems. The willow plants will, it is stated last for about 12 years, at the end ©f` which time they are " grubbed up " and replaced by fresh plants. Full • growth of the willow plant is attained in then second year, the first year being chiefly; taken up in developing the roots. Front 3,000 pounds to 5,000 pounds of peeled willows per acre is 'considered an aver- age output for the first three years, and, the wholesale price is at present 5 pence. per pound. lieferstein's Bk achieg Process. We have noticed in these columnae Keferstein's process of bleaching, the es- sential feature of which is the employ- ment of ozone in conjunction with. bleaching powder. Another patent specification of the same inventor live before us, describing an improvement in the original method, effected by soaking• the goods before they are placed in the ozonising chamber in 1 part of ammo- nia to 100 water ; or an emulsion oh ammonia and turpentine made by mire ing 100 parts of ammonia with 20 parte of turpentine and 2,000 parts of water; or in the ordinary turpentine of com-' merce ; or in 20 parts of an ammoniaf resin soap dissolved in 1,000 parts of - water, or in 1 part of ammoniacal in- digo solution in 4,000 parts of water: After being steeped the materials aro placed in the ozone chamber, when a. quantity of thick white fumes are pro- duced. These increase the bleaching an - tion, and there are produced oxidation, products of the ammonia and turpentine' in the form of nitrates and nitrites: which increase the solvent action of the; subsequent chemic bath on the coloring matters and impurities of the fibre, which is being bleached. This effect can be produced by placing on the floor of the ozonising chamber• ammonia, or ammonia -turpentine emul- sion, or turpentine. ©fter being ire the ozonising chamber for 3 to 6 hours, the materials aro treated for 10 hours: in a solution of chloride of lime cone taining 0.0,007 per cent. of chloride., This is a very weak solution correspon- ding to about 2 parts of bleaching pow- der ow •der in 100,000 parts water, and the effect of it on the cloth must be smalls, The operations are repeated if required. Of the merits and value of the process it is impossible to speak, as it cannot 'be, judged from a mere perusal of patent specifications.—Dyer and Calico Printer. A Sea Side %ncident. An editor of a comic paper—whose wifefe daughter and sister-in-law, were at the sea-side—went by the husband's train, to join them on Saturday: Before going he' had bought himself a fashionable pair o ' trousers. On trying them on they proveid to be several inches long. When he ars rived at B-- he took the trousers t* his wife and asked her to cut off about. six inches, and hens them over. The% good lady, who was not very welt. pleased, with the loud pattern, brusquely', refused. The same. result followed ane application to the wife's sister and hat daughters But before bed -time the wife, relenting, took the bags, and cutting off" six inches from the legs, hemmed them up, nicely, and put them on a chair. Italie an hour later her daughter, taken with compunction 'for her unfiliai conduct, took the trousers, and cutting off eights" inches, hemmed, and replaced thence Finally the sister-in-law felt the pang* of conscience, and she, too, performed ate additional surgical operation on the gar•+ went. When the editor appeared at brealee fast on Sunday the crowd around that table thought a llighland chioftafa hadt', arrCvodA •