Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-8-2, Page 6TUE SELECT STORY TELLER, SH.01 '2', it i4 iG lIT Il'1CT1O ti, The Latest! Stories 1.13. I'opante, weal - Known Authors. Light Reading For the Boys a Mid Girls. THE E\l? DP THE ELOPERENT. RO:YI theorest of the hill the two schools of Bradbury -- the seminary for ycang ladies and the academy for young mei—looked down the river, silvery in the, Moonlight. It was the cause of oft -repeated wonder to the stranger' in Bradbury this proximity of the two schools, But the Bradburyite infallibly replied by insisting with pride upon the strictuess of surveillance exer- cised at both centres of learning. They might contain inflammable material, btlt— x X "Oh, I say, my beauty, you're awfully late to -night !" " Why, what's up ?" And the speak- er, a beardless and puny youth, drew his arm about the waist of his feminine com- panion. She started away, " I thought Iheard someone," she said, nervously; " Pooh ! Just the wind in the trees ! But, look here, we're losing time, my beauty. The preliminaries must be ar- ranged. We don't want any slip-ups. Saturday night, isn't it?" A fter some discussion of details, urgent on the boy's side, curiously reluctant on the girl's, the juvenile lover cried: " Audi haven't had a kiss yet, either. You're a fine sweetheart, you are, Jen Just wait till we're married, and if I don't cure you of this stand-offishnses !" He leaned, forward. His weak, bleared face was scarcely on a level with the girl's. She was tall and statuesque, and seemed to tower above him. She sub- mitted to the embrace, then drew back again swiftly with a shudder. He frowned and his look turned ugly, Sae here ! I say again — what's up ?" " I tell you I heard. something. Go ! goy go !" She pushed him away with her strong, nervous hands. When he had disappear- ed, however, she seemed to cease to listen for any sound. The site of the rendezv- ous was an opening in the trees at the furthest end of the grounds of the young ladies' seminary. A gate pierced the low stone wail at this spot, and through it the youth had slipped in coming and going. Genevieve stood. with her back turned to this gate. She raised her arm and drew it across her face. She passed her handkerchief over the cheek that had received a moment before the lover's kiss. " Lover !" she said aloud, and she laughed out in the silence of the moonlit grove. "Faugh 1 How shall I ever go through with it?" " Yes, it must bo difficult enough. But, then, think of the reward !" said a man's voice a few feet from her. The raised arm. dropped. For an in- stant the stillness was so great that the stirring of a bird on a distant bough reached their ears. Then Genevieve spoke, and as she' did so she crossed her arms over her chest. " I congratulate you.. You performed your offices of private tutor admirably. You have watched your charge's most clandestine movements to good. purpose. I don't ask you how you managed to fol- low him here to -night. Enoughthatyou did, and—listened !" " Yes," was the calm reply. "I listen- ed. I heard. a word or two that gave me a distant desire to know more. Now I know what I wished to know." "Needless to say that you will report me." Her arms were still crossed on. her breast. Her dark brows were drawn in a straight line above her stormy grey eyes. " What a pretty scene you will have it in your power to make," she went on. "Me, a governess in the Yradbury Semin- ary for Young Ladies„known the ,country over for its unimpeachable dignity of tone, meeting by moonlight, a youth several years younger than myself, from the neighboring young men's academy and arranging to elope with him ! Yes, you will have it in your power to make a groat sensation, my dear Mr. Carley.” "Yea"—Carley's tone continued even and unchanged—"especially when it is considered that the youth in question is the son and heir of Martin. Pressler, one of the richest men in America. Of eourse, Miss Genevieve Ainsworth is a great beauty, but then she is poor and she loathes being a drudge as a gover- ness, and so—what more piquant than such a denoument ?" Genevieve took two steps toward him. " And you -you who swear that a man is above his conditions be it rich or poor, you, who do not mind the drudgery of a tutor's life in an academy for young gentlemen ! Yon who were such a philosopher ! Will you be so magnani- mous as to tell me whenyou are going to report me and how? Let me at least make ray preparations before I am dis- missed !" "Dismissed? You are dreaming. You will not be dismissed through my in- strumentation. I shall not report you." " Ah 1" She drew a long breath, "I see. You despise me too much to concern yourself with me in any. way." There was no reply. Genevieve Ainsworth turned to go. The scorn had not left her eyes, but she was trembling in every limb. Carley had not moved from the place where he stood. He looked after her, Then, suddenly,. he saw her stumble. In an instant he was at her side. Thereupon a strange thing happened., At the touch of the young man's hand enevie e s on her arm G breathing e v b gsmee ed Carley himself was s to cease, y ashen. Their eyes met, and there was in the girl's a wild sort of appeal, in the man's a long-surpressed passion'refueing longer to be curbed. Genevieve," he whispered, But she had torn herself away, and was running blindly, as one distraught, toward the dark, silent house the Brad- bury. Seminary for Young Ladies. Carley, left to himself, passed his hand twice, thrice, over his eyes. A very riot of youth and love iri his veins, She loves me 1 Of course ! of course Fool that I was never to believe it before! And yob I could have guessed it e hun- dred times since first I met her that from • when, the carriage from the seminary not having been sentfor her, I through a misunderstanding, offered. her a seat in the buggy 1 was driving up from the station. She was just going into bondage then. I had been in bond- age six months Bondage ? She calls it sueh, poor, foolish, pleasure -loving, beau- tiful creature that she is 1 I loved her from that night, Aud.1 believe now that she loved me, Yes, yes ! That was the reason forher ooldne:s, her abruptness to me ! For," he laughed softly to him- self, ".can you fancy this proud Gene- vieve, with her dreams of worldly vani- ties, consenting to be the wife of a p;tor tutor, who, at most, will be a poorpro- fessor some day? She must needs en- courage, instead, half-witted Martin Pressler, Jun.'s, infatuation for her, and lead hili, on to a proposal, and finally to an elopement. And shall 1 consent to this murder ? for it would be murder, She loves me; she loathes this semi-un- beeile boy, All her adoration of riches could dot prevent her to -night shuddering, at his touch. Did not I see all? And, ah ! how different was that all -revealing lovelight in her eyes a few moments later when I--" He paused abruptly, and stood In the attitude of a man struck dumb by a sud- den idea. Then, in an. instant, he had broken into a low laugh. fr ''"; " all the powers of heaven, why not?" And then again he repeated to himself : "Why not ? Why not ?" "Everything is O.K., my beauty. I've got the buggy. It's sure to be on time, and the man that's to bring it up and leave it near the gate at the foot of the grounds will skip and not be in the way nor bother us at all. You're just to wrap up your face in a veil and jump in, and we'll drive off and be at the station and in the 11.30 p.m. train and away before any living creature gets wind of any- thing. Now don't you get rattled, that's all. You're a cool one, enough, I know. But somehow I thought you were nerv- ous and queer the other night. Well, here's a kiss to your fair cheeks and your cherry lips. "Your devoted lover, '" MARTIN." Genevieve looked down at the absurd epistle—its spelling exhibited occasional deviations from the normal standard— and crushed it in her hand. This was the man—man ?•—silly boy under twenty, whom she had promised to elope with and to marry. She got up and looked at her ref!ecton in the mirror. For three nights since the meeting with George Cayley in the grove she had not slept. She know now that he held her whole being in his hand. She had indeed known it for weeks, for months. But he had always despised her for her worldliness, for her love of riches, and now he despised her more than ever. He might love her, too—his eyes had berrayed him the other night— but still he despised her. He would not interfere with her elopement. He would let her go to her doom. Her doom ? She flung up her hands and covered her face. Then suddedly she heard the sound of a bell, and a violent revulsion swept over over. The bell reminded her of her servitude ; it was the signal for her to re- sume her duties—to be present in the schoolroom. It was the sign of the bond- age in which she was wearing away her youth, her beauty. Oh, how she abhor - ed her life ! Was not anything—any- thing—better nything—anythingbetter than this fate? It had been a week of balmy days, but on Saturday the weather changed. By evening it was overcast and threatened rain. By ten. at night the clouds had dis- charged themselves in torrents. A north wind shook the trees and tossed their boughs, and even a woman's light foot- fall sank deep in the boggy ground. Loud as was the tumult of the elements the low whistle of the watcher by the gate reached the ears of Genevieve Ains- worth. Muffled to the eyes, quivering in every fibre, she hurried on. She felt as one caught in a morass, who can only hasten forward gropingly, dumbly, sight- lessly, in the fear of sinking at every step, yet in the same danger should she stand still. Then at last the gate was reached. The dark silhouette of a man, a cap drawn over his eyes, his coat culler turned up over his ears, moved. toward. her. Beyond, through the wet darkness, she distin- guished the black outline of a waiting buggy, The horse stood, with drooping head, under the rain. She staggered for- ward a few steps further. And as she did so she felt herself suddenly lifted by a powerful arm. Dimly she was aware of being wrapped in blankets in the corner of the buggy—of the horse start- ing—then she lost consciousness. The tenison .had been too great ; at the criti- cal moment human force had momentar- ily succumbed. When Genevieve came to herself she was being driven furiously along the rain -soaked roads. Her companion's ma.Iied figure bent intently forward at her side, watchful of the horse, who shied nervously now and then as a branch, heavy with moisture, brushed against the buggy. A full realization of her position, of the step she had taken, burst then upon the girl. For life she had committed herself to a weak -witted boy—a boy !— whom her soul and senses abhorred. ! And for what? For what? Wildly she threw herself forward. "Stop ! stop !" she cried as ono insane. "You must take me back ! I won't go any farther ! Do you hear ? I willd I must ! I shall go back ! I will not marry you! I will not go with you ! Oh, God ! Was I, mad ever to consent to this? I hate you, do you hear? I can't marry yon! I would sweep the streets rather I Take me back !" She had clutched the young man's arm with both her hands. She threw herself forward. seize d to th a reins. But she felt her fingers grasped in. a firm clasp, and an arm was flung out before her like an iron. bar. " Too late now, Genevieve. Don't you know me? Do you mind $0 much going with me—with me, Genevieve ?" Still holding' the reins • with his right hand, George Carley turned her beauti- ful, distracted face with his Ieft close to his own in the thick darkness, " George 1" she murmured, "George!" Then, "Mr. Carley--" He laughed lightly. " Too late for that, too, Genevieve. Too late fora ceremonious 'Mr. Carley.' Too late for everything but confess that you love me, as I know you do, you lovely, wild creature, and to become my wife the first thing tomorrow morning. Come why do you sink your head, be- loved ? Are you thinking of young Martin? He is safe in his bed now, pro- bably, 1st—reply turned the key on him two hours ago ; locked him in his room and prevented him from carrying out a purpose which would have led to the misery of your life, cud, as likely as not, of his. Yon remember that 1 overheard all your arrangements the other night, Everything was prepared. I had only to torn the key surreptitiously on my charge, as I say, and to substitute my own per - sou at the gate for his, Well, Gene- vieve ?" But Genevieve, in a passion of relieved tears, was clinging to his damp shoulder. " Oh, George,I am so happy, I am .so happy ! Oh, if you knew how horrible the thought of that boy was to me a mo- ment ago !" " I did know, I always knew !,, " And I had thought of thus selling myself for money !—for money ! Oh, darling, what eau it matter whether we —you and I—are poor or not? You will be a professor some day, and then but what am I talking about ? You are everything in. the world that Iwant now, at this moment ?" And this was the end of the famous elopement from the Bradbury Young Ladies' Seminary, Advantages Women. Halve. The bachelor girl was holding forth on the advantages women have over,men.. "For instance, in a crowded car," she was saying, "a woman is always sure of a seat. Half a dozen men will jump up to give it to her, no matter how tired they are. It is a matter of the tyranny of pablic opinion. Not one man in ten has the moral courage to defy popular pre- judice and keep his seat while there is a woman in the car standing. "And it's the sane way in a crowd, too. A woman is always passed through to the front ranks without the hem of her gown being torn, while the men will push and elbow each other and tear each other's coat tails like so many wild bears. Women have a great advantage over men in the matter of dress. They can. make themselves twice as pretty at half the cost, whereas a man is called a dude if he tries to make himself at all pictur- esque with a pink shirt or a blue necktie.. Another thing in dress. A woman can abjure starched collars, wear next to noth- ing, a thin lawn and a pretty white mus- lin, and carry a lace parasol and be hap- py and fair to look upon on a hot day. But a man must mop his warm brow, wear an alpaca coat at the least, wilted laundry or a negligee shirt, and that is an abomination, and then look hot and miserable. "Then in the ice cream season she has the ice cream and he pays the bills; in the theatre season she goes to every new play and he pays for the tickets; in fact, she has all the luxuries of life; and it doesn't cost her a cent." An Expensive Cow. There is a man in Chicago who, pays $1S,000 a year for the privilege of keeping a cow. He is a sane man, a business man, a man of family, and generally respected in the community. His poor relatives de- clare him a freak, and his neighbors shrug their shoulders and murmur things about rich men's whims. The way of it is that he possesses a valuable building lot in a choice residence portion of the city, and, having nothing else to do with it, he put a nice little fence around it and quartered therein his pet Jersey cow. The cow was an artistic cow, and harmonized well with the green turf and little bushes, so people rather admired the arrangement. One day a man came along who thought he would like to build a house on that particular lot, so he hunted up the owner and made him a spot cash offer of $300,000 for the land. His offer was refused, decisively and politely. " But," remonstrated a relative aghast, "that would pay you $18,000 a year! Why on earth did you refuse it ?" The rich man lit a cigar and turned a protesting face on his accuser. "Yes," he assented in a puzzled way, " but what would I have done with my cow ?" The Bells Frons. the Convent. A singular phenomenon occurs on the borders of the Red Sea at a place called Nakous, where intermittent underground sounds have been heard for an unknown number of centuries. It is situated at about half a mile's distance from the shore, whence a long reach of sand as- cends rapidly to the height of three hun- dred feet. This reach is about eighty feet wide and resembles an amphitheater, being walled in by low rocks. The sounds coming up from the ground at this place recur at• intervals of about an hour. They at first resemble a low murmur, but ere long there is heard a loud knock ing, somewhat like the strokes of a bell, and which, at the end of about five min- utes, becomes so strong as to agitate the sand. The explanation of this curious phe- nomenon given by the Arabs is that there is a convent under the ground here, and that these sounds are those of the bell which the monks ring for prayers. So they call it Nakous, which means a bell. The Arabs affirm that the noise so frightens their camels when they hear it as to render them furious. Philosophers attribute the sounds to suppressed vol- canic action—probably to the bubbling of gas or vapors underground. Valuable Clerks. Someone praised one of the girl clerks in a large shop to the head of the depart. moist, saying that she was so modest and so pleasant, while so obliging, that she seemed an ideal person for the place. 'From your standpoint, yes," was the reply, "but hardly from our. own. She has all the good points that you mention, and which I' agree the perfect saleswoman should not be without. But she does not sell goods enough to suit us. I mean she does not help people to make up their minds and get them out of the way and someone else in their places. The ideal clerk does that without pushing or for- wardness. You would scarcely believe eve how dependent most customers are upon others' judgment, and how much quiet assistance they require in order to facili- tate business. The . most valuable clerk is that one who can render this help with- out appearing to do anything more than offer the stuff for others' choice." Merely a !Matter of Form. Dentist—," I'm afraid it's too late to save this tooth, Miss. It will have to comae out."' Self-possessed Young Woman—"Is the corresponding tooth on the opposite side a, sound CMS?" ' Perfectly." " No probability that it will get to ach- ing ?" None whatever." " And this one that's aching—is it likely to keep my jaw swelled up as it does now ?" " It is.f0 • " Then, take it out, doctor. 1t destroys the symmetry of my fare." "Why; John, I thought you said. 'like never eats like?"' "Well, isn't that right?" "NO 'r for I see you' are eating greens." Tilt }MAXI' Or A. MAID* ../' IL, Mil long overland train for the West had puller out of Grant; and was snorting up. ' the grade, leaving round masses of black vapor in the air, like visible breaths of the panting engine. In the lighted Pull:nan could be seen, as in a mist, the soft, delicatefaces of two young women—smelt young women as come out from the towns of New England to the pueblo to teach the little brown wards of a paternal government. The "gang"—the • vaqueros on their way to the " round up" beyond San Rafael—stared at their as men do at women in a comparatively womanless country, with a kind of open, innocent, decent yearning that is half -pathetic, half -absurd. Then they went back to "the store " and strung themselves along the porch onthe piles of sheep -pelts, smoking and swearing amiably, and watching the day die against the white cliffs of El Gallo. And then they missed Longley. "A.p- polyer," as they called him in tender scorn of his young beauty. "Where's the cuss ?" asked Dick Hart. "Hoofed it down the track efter them gurls," suggested Flank, ironically. Then Roberts, who had seen 'white times," sent out a yell that cut the crisp air like an arrow. "Appolyer, approach 1" He was answered by a grunt, and Lonley's legs appeared, leaping up the steps of the portal and followed as usual by a dog or two, previously kicked out of the way by somebody, but now showing a sneaking security under Longley's lee, Appolyer spread himself down the steps, his blond, sun -burned head making a pale shadow against the adobe wall. For a while there was simply silence and acrid smoke. Then Longley, whose boy- ish thinking; were apte:t to lead to speech, said contemplatively : , "Say, them wuz nice girls—end they hey sand, too. These here Spanish gurls ain't got none. They're all -fires cute 'ncl just as soft ens gentle as a doe—but I don't believe they've got any grit in 'ear, 'thout it's 'bout some feller they get gone. on. I reckon they'd fight then, 'cause 'bout that, womin folks are puri' nigh alike everywhar." Longley, who had been filling his pipe as he spoke, began to pull steadily, fixing his whole mind on a complex series of rings that curled, and writhed, and wav- ered off into the pure darkness of the New Mexican night. Beyond the duty of adding.an original oath to the classic store, "the gang" rather eschewed conversation; but Long- ley had only been in camp about six weeks, and was still in that platitutiniz- ing stage that precedes actual knowledge. "The gang" put up with it because they liked him, and because, as Hank said: "Df he is a calf, he ain't no maverick. He's got our brand." Apaolyer himself said later: "Ef a man's got sense he gets to boldin' onto hisself, 'cause of he stays a fool he hez to leave the country." And as Longley lounged there, out- lined now by the blurred light of the dingy lamp just lighted in the store, big and bovine, blue of eye and yellow of hair, he looked no fool, but what he shortly became, a Compeller of Hearts and of Cattle. All the gang envied him, affectionate- ly or sourly as their luck ran, even to Dick Hart, who had rich relatives and a knowledge of grammar. But the gods—who have jurisdiction even in New Mexico—had a well -barbed arro w pointed A.p; olyer's way, and away over at San Miguel were preparing a little "experience" for him, which, like all such things properly digested., led. to curtailment of opinion and amplification of vision. It was the blackest kind of a night at San Miguel, but so clear that the stars shone like tiny points of cold fire, too far for light. The cluster of adobes that, grouped around a central larger ono, made the ranch of San Miguel, were mere brown blots. Here and there a dully lighted window showed where some be- lated task was being finished or some young mother watched her first-born's unknown slumber. But the family, from Don Vicente of heroic history to the low- est of the fond and faithful house-serv- ants, ouse-seryants, were gathered in the large house, overflowing the hall and kitchen and stamping and laughing in the long portal, barred by lines of light from win- dow and open doors. " The gang," just finished the fall driving at old man Baca's, were there, too, the shyest and most exuberant of the party. So pervaded was the little placita with their long legs, flapping sombreros, shoving shoulders and shrill voices. that the clatter reached the ears of old Wodan, deaf to all but Don Vicente's voice these many years. At least, the mastiff growled and moved from his warm corner, showing a great toothless grin of discontent. Tho tough old hensperched along the warm wall of the kitchen, clucked protestingly, and a litter of very misguided kittens forsook the safe shelter of the round oven and scuttled off crazily. One, having mis- taken Longley's leg for a better shelter, it was he who wao allowed to help ktiss Cleofas gather them up again. He en- compassed the entire family in one fist, tenderly enough, and restored them to an indifferent mother under the soft, directing gaze of this, the youngest daughter of the prolific house of Ortiz. A slender little thing she was, too, with groat black eyes shining under a demure forehead ; the ereamy amber of her skin g OveTCOmine t he pallor of child- hood • the thin cheek just rounding into a perfect oval. Bat the soul of her sol- dier father was alive in her. and many complex problems of the busy life of the tiny town were settled according to her wisb. and will—softly and all sweetly, too, for Cleofas was warm-hearted as well as quick=witted. And so it hap- pened that when the best of everything had been given up to the guests, and there was still more room needed, it was Oleofas who decided to make her simple and brief bed in a large deserted room sone few yards away in the open, "It is I, certainly, that will go, and R site shall care for the madre. Juan shall build me a little fire of ten sticks, and before it is out, poof 1 there is bho sun coming in." Brushing the withered cheek of the madre with her soft lips, the girl ran out into the starlit autumn darkness, her cousin Juan following with skins and blankets for the bed, which was stretch- ed in a corner behind the triangular fire- High re- Ii h up in the thick adobe wall a small square hole admitted the air, and the heavy door swung on grating hinges. Juan, whose jealous eyes had followed every glance and !notion of "Senor Long- ley" since his arrival, knelt on the floor, a ijusting the sticks of wood as the exi- gen ties of the raised £treplaoe and the customs of the country demanded -on one end. He did not speak. and Cleofas watehed him as silently, a sparkle of coquetry in her eyes, already heavy with sleep. Good night, cousin," said .Juan, in the careful English be affected since com- ing from school. The girl nodded and the young mai stepped over the sill. Then he turned sullenly: "Senor Longley have love for you. He says Spanish girl nice, but coward.. Oaidado !" Cloofas sprang from her seat on the hearth like an arrow from a tense string. Her eyes shone with anger and fun.. "Cuidado thou.!" she cried, and swung the door to with a orash, forgetting even to push home the rude bolt of buckskin and wood. Folding her reboso tightly under her chin, she crept under the blankets, and the flames as they danced revealed only a formless shadow, from which came the soft regular breaths of sound sleep. Suddenly Cleofas awoke. Her cheek flushed again at the memory of Juan's speech. • "No grit. That is the queer word the Senor Longley have use." Cleofas smiled again and murmured as she rolled over on her side for a fresh nap:"And yetit is I who will grind him." The girl had not slept long ; but they had danced late, and already a pale morning was abroad. Suddenly there came a slight scratching at the door, The girl sat up in the shadow listening for a moment and then lay back again sleepily. It was some wandering horse or sheep rubbing stealthily along the wall. Then. Cleofas rememberod the un- bolted door. As she roseto bolt it, it swung open cautiously and a head was. thrust in—a hideous, shaved head, set on a thick, fat neck. On the hard, cruel line of the lower jaw there was the white cicatrix of a wound, which drew up the lip with a sneering twist. To sink down in a crouching, limp heap and throw her reboso over her face was the girl's in- stinctive act. Through its folds she watched breathlessly. It was Mayas, the murderer, who had beaten his wife to death in a rage. Cloofas had seen him pass through the streets of Albuqurque on his way to prison. He had escaped from Santa Fe and come over the moun- tains in desperate flight. The convict, fearing only an enemy from without, closed and bolted the door, and, without a glance toward the dusky corner where Cleofas was flattened against the floor, threw himself heavily down in front of the dead fire. The chain still fastened to one wrist clanked sharp- ly, and the man jerked at it savagely with an oath. Even in the deadly fear that made her skin prickle like a thousand fiery needles and her limbs feel lead -like, Cleofas was an Ortiz still. "I will not die like a miserable sheep," thought she ; "nor will I kneel and beg for mercy as the little wife did, and vain- ly. No, I shall say : 'Murder me if thou wilt, thou coward ; and may thy; wretched soul burn in hell forever.' " Bat the convict's head had rolled heav ily on to his breast, and he slept, his breath coming in long waves of exhaus- tion. Hope grew in the heart of the motionless spectator in the corner. "Holy Mother," she prayed, "keep me as a mouse. Let me live as if I lived not, and save me for the little mandre's sake." An hour rolled on. Through the win- dow the day was broadening. Cleofas was stiff, was cold, was impatient. "He will sleep on and on, like the pig and the wolf that he is," she thought, indignantly, "and I must wait his plea- sure to be killed and eaten. Or he will wake and go far and be free—he, the wicked one. It shall not be. Dear Jesu, help." With her eyes fixed on the face of the convict, the girl began to fold back her reboso and the twisted blankets. When her limbs were free, with one quick, silent effort, she stood upright. Never once removing her gaze, she followed the shadow of the wall, groping cat -like, her very breath , suspended to the faintest flatter: of her throat. She has reached the door, and still the murderer sleeps. But, at the slight noise of the slipping bolt, he stirs and turns. With a stifled cry, the girl throws up one slender arm to hide her eyes from the dreadful death she believes so near. An instant's silence follows. Fatigue and sleep weigh on the man, body and spirit. Cleofas throws herself against the door, it swings out with her into freedom. * x s; Appolyer Longley's dreams had been full of enchanting visions of coquettish girls appearing under different forms, but all bearing the name of Cleofas. So restless was he in consequence, that he had risen early to try the famous counter Irritant of the chase. To have the real Cloofas run into his arms, to have her point gaspingly to a fleeing figure a few yards away, and to bring his rifle to his shoulder, were all parts of a lively and interesting mo- ment. His voice rang out with pleasant firm- noss: "Hold on, pard." The man ran on. A little spirit of opal smoke rose on the air, and the figure be- came a exampled brown bundle on the brown earth. "I'll go bring him in, Miss Cleofas," said Longley, cheerfully, and then he caught the girl about the waist and car- ried her tenderly into the house, Forth- with Cleofas' speech had failed and her eyes shone darkly into a face as white as milk. It was thirty amply surveyed miles from the sheep•shearieg at Grants to San Miguel, but Lougley's tough little Navajo pony "couldn't sleep nowhere else" but in the all out -doors corral of Don Vicente, At least, so his master said. But this Saturday night the shearing was finished:. The last scared, homely, jagged little sheet had a "caped the shears, and was huddled under the lee of the mesa, for when the Lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, He forgets New Mexico, and the top of Mount Taylor supplies an icy variety. The great brown bags of fleece were tied and marked, and piled on the plat- form for the east -bound freight. The shearers were eating and drinking mon- strously about their eamp fire on the malpais, across the Puorco. Appolyor had a good season's *age in his bolt, but his spirits were low as he turned his tired pony loose in the corral at the Ortiz ranch. "En I said they wasn't gritty," he mutter; "en she knows it, ett, of course, she won't hev me. Laws 1 I wudden't either." The door opens and °loofas °ernes out. "Oh. it is the Senor '!'awn," she cries, not very loudly ; "'is it not. very nine. luck for you to be here. It, is a fiesta," "Hullo, is that so? What for?" stam- triers Tom, who has never been called. Tawn before, "'My cousin, Luz, she marrying Juan," said Clloofas, looking down. "A wedding ! Oh, Lord !" groaned. Longley, ""You just like Spanish girl, Senor Tawn. No grit, no ?" hisLofangley turned his head sharply. There was the dawn of a great hope in ce.. "Why, Cleofas, darlin'," his voice cracked and broke. "You not ask me marrying you ?" whispered Cleofas. It was always a matter of discussion in after years where the courage of Cleofas came in, but Appolyer Longley never had. any doubts. A Down -Trodden Race. First burglar—The deception there is in this worldp almost makes rue lose my faith in human nature. Second burglar—What is up now ? First burglar—I had a break all fixed for a house up on the hill, and when ev- erything verything was ready and I got there, blowed if there wasn't a smallpox cordon the door. Second burglar—And that drove you. off? First burglar—Yes • but that isn't the worst of it. I found to -day that they had got onto my game and only put the oard on to keep me off., That's the way we poor fellows are cheated out of our living. It's enough to make us lose all faith in human nature. The use of slang words and phrases should never be indulged in, either in public or private. • sa****000eooeiiii*o****44 LAKEHURST SANITARIUM, OAKVILLE. ONT. For the treatment and cure of ALCOHOLISM, THE MORPHINE HABIT, TOBACCO HABIT, AND NERVOUS DISEASES The system employed at this institution is the famous Double Chloride of Gold System. Through its agency over 200,- 000 Slaves to the use of these poisons have been emancipated in the last fourteen years. Lakehurst Sanitarium is the oldest Institution of its kind in Canada and has a well-earned reputation town intain in this line of medicine. In its whole history there is not an instance of any after ill- effects from the treatment. Hundreds of happy homes in all parts of the Dominion bear eloquent witness to the efficaey of a course of treatment with us. For terms, and full information write T H 1v SECRETARY, 28 Bank of Commerce Chambers, Toronto, Ont, O06,400044000000000.T+00VOQ 4.4) 000000000®0000{•®A0000+40G00 WERE WATER MOTOR, from one-eighth to twenty horse power. Comparative tests. have demonstrated this water motor to be the most economical agent known for generating power from a system of waterworks furnishing a pressure of 30 pounds and upwards. In writing for information state the water pressureon propose to use and the class of work to be done andpwe will be pleased to furnish all information regarding the size Motor and pipes necessary to drive any kind of machinery. TYPE FOUNDRY, Toronto and Winnipeg ENGINE and Boiler, lb Horse Power, up right. Second hang, in first-class order, for sale at a bargain. TORONTO TYPE FOUND- RY, .Toronto and W innipee Stam❑ � Ktu,;fl The Best TOOd For Children? en is worthy ,every parent's study ; not only what they can .eat, but what gives the most nourishment., No children are better, and most are worse,y for eating litrcl-cook- worse,( .�"'.4° 1�} ed food. s 1• t� .• � " ever f how 1 � s ' i;,ty r n 1 t I7 e 1 r � ;;: .. • � food is re�areclM" with the health- F " -• 'J ' pr ful new vegeta al eG'u ' u2 ' shortening, L'11"— ,ss instead of lard, they can eat free- ly of thabr-,st food without danger to the digestive organs. You can easily verify'ihis by a fair trial of Cottolene. Sold In s and 8 Ib, pais by all grocers. Made only b1 -mss- .,•.-"' The N.K. Fairbatlk Colnllany, Wellington a n[i Ann. 1.......aar-....:I'