The Exeter Advocate, 1895-1-3, Page 3JUDGE BY
APPEARANCES.
EM BECKETT had not seen
Labra Dagley for months,;fo
he had been away in the war
and had just received his die-
. charge. He was going to see
her now, however, and as he
walked up woes Sedge Dag-
desy,'s lawn his heart beat wildly with
happy anticipations, for in a moment
more he would hold to his breast thaw -
amen he loved. r
He had reached the house and ;was in
the act of setting hisfoot on the veranda
when he was arrested by a peel of laugh
'ter. Ho knew well whose laugter it was,
.for it had thrilled him a hundred times
'before. He belanced around, and through
an open window he saw Laura. But she
was not alone, She stood clasped in the
,arms of another man,herhead resting gent-
ly, lovingly on his shoulder. Lem was
astonished—hardly able to credit his
eyes, his blood frozen in his veins. There
was no room for doubting the moaning of
what he saw. Every gesture, every tea-
'ture of the woman told only too plainly
that she loved the man in whose arms
she rested.,
hFor a minute Lem remained there look-
ing at the two, then he turned and stag-
gr
eed away.Hawent down the path to
.
road, reeling like a drunken man.
and then he sat down by the roadside
with his head in his hands and tried to
think. But ono picture came :only be-
fore him—that which he had just seen,.
And try as he would ho could not banish
it from him. One thought onlyoccupied
his mind, and that was that Laura had
.proved false --she whom he loved with c.•11
.the ardor of his soul and whom he had
*rusted as he would the angels of heaven.
An hour passed, and then he arose and
went back toward the old mill, which was
his home. As he walked his mind re-
surned its functions, and before he had
:reached the end of his journey he had'
matured a plan of action. He entered
the mill and made alight, for Awes quite
'dark now, and then he wrote and tacked
.on the door a notice reading, "Closed
forever. Then he went to his room in
Kthe loft and gathered together his valu-
ables, all of: which he put carefully away.
After that he came out, closed and lock-
ed the mill and walked away in the direc-
tion of the crossroads. He was going to
„join Blakely's company of recruits, which
was then forming, glad of the .opportu-,
:pity to engage in e' the war and hopeful
that there would be hard fighting soon
and plenty of it.
The recruits were gathering at the
.goads when Lom arrived. Every man
was surprised tosee Lemthere, but they
'were more surprised by his wonderfully
altered appearance. Already his face
was haggared. and he appeared to have.
.aged several years within a few hourss
The men knew there was a cause for thi.
change—that something affecting Lein
deeply had transpired, but they could
not surmise what, and the expression of
his face deterred them from asking any
.questions. With wonder and surprise
Captain Blakely welcomed Lem to his
-.company.
At midnight all the recruits were in,
-and tl;e.little band of volunteers prepare
.te begin their march. Lem took a
:position in front of the column, and when.
Blakely gave the word to movb he strods
.away at such a gait that his companion
found it difficult to keep pace with him.
He was in a fever of excitement, and he
wanted action. He would have given the
world if there had been a battle raging
then and he could have plunged reckless-
ly into the hotest part of it. He longed
to hear the booming of cannon, thewhiz-
.zing of shells and the rattle of musketry.
While the others talked and laughed Lem
stalked stolidly on, grimly silent, save
that now and then ke turned to urge his
•companions to move faster.
Two days later the little band were
with the army, and soon Lem was cap-
tain of Blakely's old company. Then in.
the days following there was fighting,
marching and skirmishing until the poor
soldiers were worn, out with fatigue and
exposure, but though Lem managed to
.share the heaviest 'burdens he was im-
patient and chafed forr more movement,.
more hardships and more dangers. Army
life was lacking in excitement for him.
The people at home learned in time
through letters from the army where
Lem was, but they were unable to ac-
count for his sudden and 'abrupt depart-
ure. They could not understand how a
young man who had come into consider-
able wealth by the death of his father
should go away leaving his lands and his
nnills uncared for and unprotected. They
•wondered, too, that he should go away
leaving Laura' Dagley at that time, know-
ing as they did the near approach of his
intended marriage with: her. But though
;people at home wondered atthese things
they could form no satisfactory conjec-
• tore as to the cause of Lem's actions, for
he uttered never a word. to give them a
clew.
Two years passed, and then there came
letters telling of the hard fighting around
Vicksburg, and one of them told of the
fall of Lem. Beckett. This news spread
rapidly through the neighborhood about
Beckett's mill and reached even to the
11140,
inner walls of Judge Dagley's house.
Was'tbere one in the house to mourn
Lem , Beckett's fate? One to yearnf or
him and weep for his loss?
JG. e But Lem Beckett was not lost. He fell
biet'ae rose again. After long weeks he
came!e.:th from the hospital a maimed
man, the deep lines in his face telling the
story of his great sufferings. His right
arm was gone, and he Gould' no longer
lead in battle.
`,ghat was Laura. He knew theetvorst
She '*vas another uCan's wife.
Lem went out 'and walked straigh
the steamboat landing. He fund •a
eel just ready to start up the Misso
and he took passage for home. She
gone away, acrd now he could go back
take up his old life and its duties 'with
the Lear of meeting her,
A few days later people passing ale
the road noted signs of lite about
_old mill, The long elosod doors w
open, and a sad, . ono -armed m
moved about, making little ropy
and putting the machinery in
der. Soon it became known 'that Le
]3eokett had retueuod, and within a we
the old mill was running and the c
tomers were earning and going as of of
"It's like old times," the people so
times remarked, "to see the old mill r
ning again."
But it was far from the old times to
Lear. Then he was strong and happy,
looking forward: to a bright future. Now
he was a tired and disappointed man, the
future he had cherished lying wrecked at
his. feet.
now.
t. to
vas-
ari,
was
and
out
ng
the
ere
an
i.113or-
m
ek
d.
ae-
me
Uri -
The 'people found Lem accommodating
and goneroas as of old, but : he was no
more the jovial, social man they had
known in the years past. He was taci-
turn in the extreme, conversing with no
one save when necessity compelled him.
He saw nothing of the Dagleys, and he
asked no one questions concerning them,
and, as it happened, no one mentioned
thein in his presence, Perhaps • the peo-
ple suspected that he would not be pleased
to have the name mentioned within his
hearing.
Thus several days passed, Lem never
going away from the " mill except at
night, when he walked down the road by
judge Dagley's house. On these night
rambles he took good care that no one,
should see him -going and coming in the
darkness like a ghost. He found a mel-
ancholy pleasure perhaps in looking et
the old house where he had found his
greatest happiness in the days gone by.
One night he made his usual walk, and
stood at Judge Dagley's gate , looking
over into: the lawn, when there suddenly
glided into the path from among the ever-
greens an apparition that stilled the beat-
ing of his heart and caused a sensation of
coldness to steal over him. What he saw
was a woman dressed in white slowly go-
ing toward the house. There was bat
little light, and he could bat dimly make'
outher form, but 1f s saw enough to know
whose form, whose movement, it was.
Ho could not, even uncer the circum-
stances, be mistaken in Laura. it was
she, he knew, but not as she was when he
saw her last. He saw sorrow, trouble,
disappointment, written in her move-
ment.
He watched until he saw her enter the
house ; then he turned away, feeling such.
a sensation as he had never experienced
in all his life. He did notbelieve in any-
thing supernatural, yet he was almost
forced to admit that he had seen a spirit.
It could not be Laura in the flesh that
had passed before his eyes thatnight.
Bat two or three weeks had elapsed since
he saw her in St. Louis, and happy,
and so great a change could not have
come over her so soon.
He walked back to the mill and stood
quietly on the platform in front of the
great doors too deeply engrossed in
thought to notice the flight of time. At
last he arose with a shiver, passed into
the mill and lay down on his bed. The
next morning he was found there, burn-
ing with fever and delirious. A doctor
was summoned, and when he came he
shook his head gravely, pronouncing
Lem's recovery doubtful.
"The trouble is more of the mind than
the body," he said. "Medicine can do
little good."
Lem talked continually in anincoher-
ent way, and, although the doctor held
his ear to the unconscious man's lips, he
could understand but one word he uttered,
and that word was "Laura." Over and
over he spoke that name.
"His trouble is connected with her,"
the doctor said, "and her presence alone
can save him."
Days passed, and then consciousness
returned to Lem, and he opened his eyes
and looked about him. His first glance
rested on a face familiar, yet strangely
altered -a face that had been with him
in all his wanderings, in sickness and
health. It was Laura's face, saddened
and pale now, but Laura's face still, and
though,for a moment he : doubted her
reality he soon comprehended that• she
was still in the flesh. For a long time he
looked at her, reading the story of her
sufferings ; then he said softly, "Laura !"
She sprang up and would have left the
room, but he held her hand and would
not let her go. "Aye, you are flesh and
blood," he muttered. "You are real."
Then he drew her to him' as if to kiss
her, but remembering himself he desisted.
saying :
"I forgot. You are the wife of another.'•
"The wife' of another?" Laura repeat-
ed wonderingly.
"Aye, yes. You are his wife—Thomp-
son s. I saw you with him at St. Lolls—
saw where he had registered at the hotel.
'J. P. Thompson and wife.' I never for-
got it."
After a while a ray of light began t, -
dawn on Laura's mind. She saw that s,
great mistake had been made , by Lem.
and she understood how a part of it, had
come about.
"Lem,"
his first name, "mymar-
ried said,sister m
unwittinglycalling
him by-
ried. Mr. Thompson, and it must have
been her you saw in St. Louis. She and
I are twins, and we used to be so much
alike that oar own family could hardly
distinguish us apart. Younever saw her,
for she married before we came here tc
live, and she has visited us but once.
Since leaving home Lem had heard and that was at the time you went
nothing from the Dagleys, and he .sup- away."
posed Laura had long since married and Lem opened his eyes wide and stared
gone away, so he resolved to go back. blankly at Laura. Ho understood it all
Accordingly he boarded a steamboat and now. It was Laura's sister and husband
went to St. Louis. He stopped in that ho had seen that night in Judge Dagley's
city, and after dressing himself in better parlor and he thought it Laura and an-
-clothing went to a hotel.• He was about other lover. Ah, heavens ! what a mis-
to enter the office to secure a ;room when take he had made, and what years of bite
he saw a man and woman alight . from a ter suffering that mistake had wrought
carriage and pass into the building. Ile for both him and Laura ! With a hum-
etopped, dumb with surprise and pain. ble heart and a very contrite spirit he
'The woman was Laura, and the man was told Laura of his mistake and of eve
ry-
the same heehad seen with her that night thing attending it,
in J.idge Dagley's parlor. He watched "I was a foot -.Laura," he added, "to
them as they passed into the house, and ever doubt you or an instant, but C was
he saw her turn her eyes upon him. Yet so sure it w you I saw that night. 1
she showed no surprise --not even a sign did you a gr at wrong, but 1 have suf-
cf recognition. When they had disap- fered, for it—suffered bitterly, And 1
poured, he turned away, all the old suf. /over ceased to love you. ' If you can for-
Tering strong open him, and for an hour give me .4a little, that is all I can ask,
ho walked the streets. wen •u, teem'? Will you try to for-
"Can she have forgotten, me se soon?" `e a litte ?"
he mused, bitterly. "Am I so soon banes a laid her hand on Lena's forehead
jelled entirely from, her memory? Ayel. s.haoked down into his poor, wasted
yes, yes. And yet I once thought wonhin: qtr , ying softly :
never forgot," rgiv you everything, Lem. I for -
After awhile he retui:ned trig, "o ,C,Y, i ause I love you."
and looked over the eleMee rionths later tom was Well. and.
ter. There, the last on ` ,: da there was a quiet wedding
this, "J. P. Thornpscn tt�i y • x'; m Dagley's house. The bride and
�Tr
,fie. ate)ice
the • groom still bore some tracae of the
tripes thrclugh which they had .passed,
but the light of a new happiness shone
in their faces, showing that the night was
past and that a now and glorious day
wee breaking, over their lives,
CIIIUsT,LAS AT
"TIIE PL . NTAGENET,"
T was an inappropriate name1 al-
ways said, for it was the name: of a
princely house, and ours decidedly
was not a princely houso. .Per-
haps you liked it better if you
were only ono flight up; bat when
you were very tired and your mu-
sic pupils had played oat of tune and out
of time, and had demanded to "learn a
piece" when they could not play the scale
of C without blundering, it somehow
seemed a very, very long way to the
fourth flat left, and the entrance looked
dingy and uninviting, and you grew to
hate the sight of the rows of brass bells
and letter boxes with the names beneath
them. Still"The Plantagenet" was not
so bad, as low-priced flat -houses go, and
if you were a poor little music teacher,
with only a deaf and very grim old aunt
as a natural protector, there were times
when you were thankful for your tiny lit-
tle home.
But this special Christmas I felt lonely
and depressed and heartsick. I dispirit-
edly bought a biggroen wreath and some
princess pine at the corner grocer's and.
docked the little parlor while Aunt Bar-
bara looked on in silent contempt. Aunt
Barbara disapproved of "facings," consid-
ering them a wicked: waste of money as
well as traps to catch dust.
Then 'on my way home Christmas Eve,
in a fit of reckless extravagance, I stop-
ped and bought^a couple of red roses ,at a
florist's. How gay the street looked,
filled with merry -hearted passers, happy
children hugging Christmas parcels to
their hearts, and holding tight to their
cheery young mother's hands -everybody
with a box or package thalkdoubtless con-
tained a gift for husband', wife,sweet-
heart. friend -somebody !!
It was rather hard to reflect, that in all
this great city there was nobody to, re-
member me this holiday season, and then
I smiled, for I had forgotten thatin my
pocket reposed a silk muffler of a brilliant
and impossible hue, presented by my dull-
est pupil,Miss Anabel McGibbon, who
has toiled three months over one simple.
exercise, and still flatted triumphantly
when she should have sharped.:'
I turned out of the bright street into
a dark side street, having still several
long blocks to traverse. I. opened the
tissue paper cautiously that protected my
precious roses from the frosty night air
and took - a deep inhalation to cheer my
flagging spirits. If only Aunt Barbara
were different ! It would have been so
pleasant to plan some little surprise for
her, but 1 had tried it on her birthday
and incurred her serious displeasure. She
thought holiday-keepine. nonsense, and
present -making on such occasions inex-
cusable folly. However, T determined to
have a little of theholiday spirit if I
could, as I bent clown and inserted my
key in the big door at The Plantage-
net's entrance, climbed up the three steep
flights of stairs and sank down breath-
less in the little sitting -room.
Aunt Barbara had evidently been
S
anging the furniture. The chairs sto
tiff and prim against the wall. The bi
f bric-a-brac were placed in 'strai„
owe on:the mantel. The books on th
le were at right angles to each othe
All was neat, spotless, ;orderly, but" oh
ow unspeakably dreary. ! Aunt Barba
erself looked looked like the room sone
ow, to my tired eyes as she sat uprig
the table knitting, in immacula,
hite cap and apron. She was such
g"cod woman.! I know if I had had th
mallpox she would have stood unfiinch
gly by my side and nursed me wi
onscientious care. She looked after m
dily welfare, and I have no doubt sh
ally loved me, but of the small coin of
very -day gladness and comi
panionsh
e had' not a share, and she could n
ora understand the hopes and fears an
agaries of a rather imaginative youn`
man than could my gray cat, Waltor,
eping peacefully in the corner, an
u would no more in my place ha
ought of. kissing or caressing Aunt Bar
ra than a refrigerator. She looked a
my tissue -wrapped parcel and sniffed sus
wady. hope you haven't been buying flow-
, Kate ? Do I smell roses ! The
tcher sent in his bill to -day. It was
69 too much. I. pat on my bonnet
d went around there and gave him a
ece of my mind. We will buy of Prod -
is after this. There, I believe. those
tatoes are burning? And she went
stily to the kitchen.
laid down my roses listlessly, and
thout taking off. my hat and ulster,, I
alked aimlessly to the window and
ked out. 1 could see the neighboring
fs, the Christmas stars, bright and
utiful in the dark blue heavens, and
tiny crescent of a moon added to the
endor of the sky.
harplthe
y
and piercingly came to my
memory of another Christmas
—` `only a little year ago." I had
ked at the same stars, lout ah, not
ne ! Then had come a, lover's quar
a girlish fit ed temper, the unyielding
e that is the curse of my disposition,
so we had parted. Since then I had,
n miserable many, many hours, and
hated myself tor my folly, ' had
ged to lay my: tired head in its old
ce on that loving breast, but never
I so bitterly repented myself as to-
ht,gof my final,` decisive.farewell it
country lane, of the untrue words of
mer that told him I had coaled to love
im
and never wished to see him again,
much more of the same sort.
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But it was ended—over, I told myself
firmly, while the stave suddenly grew
blurred to me, Perhaps he had maglied.
He went to the far west goon after, and
that was the last I had heard. tried
very hard to despise myself. I threw
back my heed defiantly and assured my-
self that I did not care, but it was no
use. I did care, I know deep in my heart
that I should care forever more.
But even a sad young woman with a
pronounced case of learteche cannot
stand brooding by a window all of Christ-
mas Eve. Dinner time wag near ; and
with a sigh I slowly turned from the love-
ly night and threw off tny coat, I was
just taking off my hat when our little bell
rang. I touched the( electric button, won-
deriag whe it could possibly be, and pres-
ently I heard a lumbering tread on the
stain and a red-faced csepresemaa de-
posited a box at My door, Ile was very
erose and out af breath and demanded a
quartet fot bringing it up, ktew
had no right to it, but in. my exeltenient
t ineeldy produced my thin little putee
and gave it to him.
Who could have sant me a Christmas
box? I ean rather short-sighted, and the
writingof the address was rubbed and in-
distinct, but I immediately thought of
ney country cousins, It was good, hind
Charlotte, to be sure, who had remem-
bored me, end 1 cut the heavy twine
recklessly end tele open the paper iu
quite a glow of pleasezre.. Oh, what a
great plum cake ! And what hosts of rich
country jumbles ! 1 ate one hungrily as
1 gloating piled them on the box cover.
Then there were rosy apples and a fine
roasted chicken, I sat down like a child
and ate a bit of him atop of a jumble and
and an apple, and then Aunt .Barbara
came in just as I was taking out, tri
umphantly, a layer of fat brown dough
nuts.
"Just look at what Charlotte has sent
me, Aunt Barbara !" I,.criod, waving my
handover the profusion of dainties. lox
a wonder she heard me the first time, and
sat down, deliberately adjusting her
spectacles.
"Charlotte, oh?"''she said in her slow
voice, picking up the wrapping paper and
beginning to fold it mechanically. ; "It's
a pity you out the string, Kate. Well,
if people must take part in this foolery of
Christmas presents, it's a good . thing
when they send you something useful, at
least—Charlotte, you say--" she went
on, stopping to read the address. Then
sho took other spectacles and looked at
me grimly.'
"Kate Inman . this box is not yours,"
"Not mine !"i 1 said resentfully, "I
sh
old like to know whose then?' I
snatched the paper from her hand and
putting on my. eye -glasses I read : "Mr.
li. Johnson.",;
I could only sit in the midst of the
things and gasp. Finally I said "It id
Mrs. lloy's boarder. Don't you know she
has a Mr. Johnson come to board with
her?"
Mrs. Roy lived in the flat below us, and
I remembered her boarder's name when
she mentioned it, because—just because
—Bob's name was Johnson, too. How I
used to tease him about his plebian
name.
"Whose boarder?" asked. Aunt Bar-
bara, with her hand at her ear.
"Mrs. Roy's." I shouted, gathering the
edibles together ruefully and bending the
chicken's fat legs in my effort to pack
him in as he came, and pouring the
doughnuts over him;` and feeling. enough
of a child to have a good cry.
You see it was all the Christmas I had.
T tied up the box as best T could and
started dawn the stairs with it, crimson
with mortification to explain my mistake.
It was very heavy for me. And .1 had
eaten this strange man's cake and his
apple and a bit of his chicken's •breast !
No, I never would confess that!
There was a good deal of talk and
laughing in Mrs. Roy's apartment. They
were jolly, cheerful people. Row T pray-
ed that the man might not be there too !
I knocked at the door of the private
hall, and held the heavy box tightly, in
my embarrassment: Someone opened
the door and the voices were hushed in-
side.
The box fell on the floor, the dough-
nuts rolled down the hall, and I do not
know where the rest of the things went.
"Bob !" I cried, starting back.
"Kate !" that dear old voice said.
And then he had presence of mind
enough to shfit the door and come out
into the hall.
1 tried, woman-like; to recover myself
and my dignity.
"1-1 opened your box by mistake," I
explained, with an assumed attempt at
hauteur.
"So I see," with an amused glance at
the recumbent chicken and the scattered
doughnuts.
"And thinking it was mine," I con-
tinued, "thinking my cousin had sent it,
because I am short-sighted and did not
make out the address—"
And I hung my head under the light
of the eyes bent on mine, and then I felt
two strong arms enfold me.
"Oh, Kate, Kate, have we not had
enough of this ? 1 -lave we not suffered
enough for a miserable little quarrel ?
Are you bound to keep it up, darling?"
"Yes,". 1 said, and clung tighter to his
neck. Whatever the strong-minded fe-
male maysay, as a sex we are not con-
sistent, I fear.
"Bob," 1 said, after an indescribable
moment, "I ate one of your jumbles."
"You shall have them all."
"And an apple."
Rob's comment was wordless, but satis-
factory.
"And a piece of his breast," I added,
gently disengaging one hand and point -
mg to the maltreated fowl with his legs
in the air.
"Thank God mother never could write
legibly !" said Rob, holding me closer and
looking at me as if he would never have
his fill. "Oh, Kate," he continues, "what
a Christmas we shall spend together to-
morrow, sweetheart."
And then Mrs. Roy's voice was heard
near the door,and he released my hands.
The sweet bells were pealing the glad
tidings of great joy to the world when I
went to bed that night., ' I stood by the
window again, looking out over the peace-
ful day under the starlit sky, and again
my eyes were dim with tears -tears,, of
happiness this time.
For Christmas had brought exquisite
hope and gladness to two hearts at least
in "The Plantagenet."
How TO CHOOSE A. SPONGE.
Don't Bay a 'Bright Yellow One, and
Look Out for Discoloration.
Although the difference between a good
and a bad sponge is very markedt but few
people seem able to appreciate it. The
first requisite of a good spon.ge is that it
should be dark in color. The beautiful
yellow- Ranges commonly seen in drug-
gist& windows are a delusion and a snare.
The natural color is a light to a medium
brown, and the yellow sponges have been
bleached by a vitriol bath, which destroys
their elasticity and makes them wear out
much, sooner.
The feel of a sponge should be velvety,
it should eomptess into a very small bulk
by squeezing, and it must be of uniform
color, The best and most expensive are
Levant spoi.iges. They come from the
eastern Mediterranean. The Dalmatian
spenge is next in quality and priee. There
are very many others, however, known
to the trade os horse Rouges, Zamocce
spongee, yelloW, velvet, sheep's wool and
glove sponges. The prettiest, end at the
wale time the cheapest, is the grass
sponge, which is made of the myriad° of
small filaments and looke like a ball of
yellow wool.
The majority of sponges need in this
after 'being detached froin the botteni,
either hy a dredge net or au instrument
something late a sickle, which is made
for the purpose, la elleseVed to lie ih the
sun until the &eh deetenposee,
The sponges are then trodden under
foot in .running water until the flesh, is
all washed away, leaving the skeleton,
whieh is the sponge as tiwo know it. It the
decomposition is allowed to go tee .ar
yellow spots will appear upon the sponge.
and damage it. They are then packed
up tend sent to the dealer, and atter a
further welling jut on the market. The
export trade of New York in sponges is
very large, and they are exportect to
every country in Europe.
'x'131
'2' was Christmas Eve in the cou
away up in the Virginia moo
and snowing hard. The wind
the driving flakes in great
till they eddied and swirled
piled them up in lone fence co
where dry ragged mullein
bent over, and gray rabbits nestled s
ly, dropped them :tenderly on the bo
of quiet little streams, and dashed
in' mighty fury against window p
till the people inside drew closer to
warm fires and thanked their stars
had fires to draw close to.
Farmer .Bailey was one of the forte
ones, and he seemed to be enjoying
blessings to the full. Great hickory
in full blaze crackled and sang in the
place and sent the flame roaring half
up the chimney, On one side oe
hearth sat Mrs. Bailey, knitting piaci
while a little girl seven or eight y
old, with big brown eyes'and a shoe
unmanageable dark hair, played xi
great purring cat on the floor in fro
the free.. The farmer himself, with c
tilted back, was picking a banjo with
expression of enjoyment that was
doubtedlygenuine. The little house
its ruddy glow of firelight in the raid
the bitter storm seemed like a warm h
n a cold world,
"`Well, for the land's sake P' sudd
exclaimed Mrs.Bailey, dropping her le
ting, "what's that at the window ?"
The farmer finished : the tune, as
banjo players will, no matter what m
happen, and then following with his the direction of his. wife's finger,
startled to see pressed close to one of
window -panes the face of a very sm
and very black negro boy. His e
showed large and white against the d
background, and his . whole express
was one of mute but earnest appeal.
Mr. Bailey hastened at once to the do
and, after some persuasion, succeeded
getting him into the house and near
fire. He then asked him what he wa
ed.
"I don't want netlike," said. the l
darkey with a broad grin. He was ve and could nothave been more th
nine years old.
"Whar did you come from ?" said
armee..
"I dunno."
"Whar do you live ?"
"I don't lives nowhar."
"Well. by thunder. whar are you
n', then ? You know that, I reckon,"
"I ain't goin' nowhar, but here;" a
wered the little negro, with anoth
grin, showing two rows of shining.wh'
teeth.
"Papa," cried. the.little girl Alice, c
ng forward and shaking back the h•
ram her eyes, "let him stay here,' pleas
was just wishin' for somebody to pl
with beside the cat, and I was goin'
sk Kris. Kringle to -night if he wouldn'
lease, sir, bring me somebody."
The visitor looked at his new-foun
hampion with a: grin that was beauti
o see. He had by this time seeming
aken it for granted that he. was to sta he had taken a seat on a log near th
'e, and appeared already perfectly
ome.
It was frnallydecided that Jim, a$ h
riled himself, should stay at the elaileys
nd Alice Went to bed in . a perfect gle
Glaring that she was going to call hi
Christmas Jim."
Some time after this I left the neigh
rhood and was. absent more than a year
veryone is glad to return to his natiy.
aoo, but I believe the pleasure is quick
ed when the home is situated in a
autiful a country as is mine. As
minted the hill, at the foot of whicilai
e house and a few acres belonging t
armer Bailey, there lay stretched leder_
a picture of rolling hills, white cot-
ges and waving wheat fields, while
ay to the westward as far as the eye
old reach ran the, great Blue Ridge
untains, ethereal unsubstantial look-,
g in the distance, and varying all. day
g from the lightest azure tints to dark
lisle color. The view was magnifi
t, but what made me feel more than
this that I was home again was the
sight of a humble figure coming up
dusty road.
t was. an old negro, Adam Sims, whom
ad known from childhood, and who
ed at Bailey's place. I know that here
s an unfailing source of news and gos-
of all kinds, and wishing to hear ev-
thing, I called out to him
'How are you, Uncle' Adam?"
`Howdy, Boss ? Well, I declare ! It is
✓ , ain't it ? How is you, honey ? - I
ose .you done marry now, ain't you ?"
had to deny it, and hastened to ask
the news.
News? Well, Boss, dar. ain't much
o on 'round here now. Christmas
? Why ain't you done about
? Dat's so. You been away. Well,
ar'. I don' t like to talk 'bout dat
I feel like crying ev'y time I look
him. You.know him an' dat Miss
e, dey was de bee' of frien's. Look'
day run together all de time, an' dar
n't no tree on dat place dat nigger
'dn't climb, or try to climb it, ef she
n she want sump'n out of it. Ev'y
g he find dat boy would • put en his
et few dat little gal, and ef I sent him
r do co ws he'd come back with such
of truck as you nevver seed. One
he brought her one er dese here ter-
ns, an' 1 missed 'er fer some time an'
thought: bey was keepixx mighty quiet,
n I went 'roan' behind de house, an'
gracious !ef day didn't had dat pore
terrapin hitched up to a little cart Jim
made for it, wid a hairpin bit an'
er her corncob dell babios setting up
drivin'.
he cert'n'y did love dat boy. I been:
n' out on de back porch when it was
n' sorter late, au' she was gittin'
y to go to bed, an' 1 hear her en dar
n' her prayers out loud to her ma.
dar was one thing she nuvver did fot-
o say, and dat was, '0, Lord, take
o' ChristmasJim, an' make him
e.' And I'd look roun' sometimes
dar would be dat fool nigger satin'
porch an grim -Ain.' from liar to ear
at bey could dance, took donne.
he picked it up • you know we raw -
id know numb him. no how.
sometimes Mats Bailey 'would it
his banjo an' start pzekin' a jig, n'
ley dat fiat -footed nig�&ror Weald out
goon wing, an' clasp ni$ hands an'
was a caution, An' Miss Aliee, it
like it tiekle her mos' to death,
retry,
retains,
blew
gusts
again,
rnors
stalks
nag -
soma
them
arias,'
their.
they
nate
his
logs.
tire -
way
the
dly,
ears
k of
th a.
ret of
hair
an
un -
with
raids of
eart
enly.
nit
ail
ay
gaze;
was
the
all
yes
ark
ion
or,
in
the
nt-
t tie
cry
au
the
ae-
n
er
rte
co
air
e.
ay
to
t,
d
fui
ig
ay,
e
at
e
e,
hi
fo
fie
a
de
CI
bo
Pl
en
be
th
me
co
Mo
in
Ion
war
cen
all
the
the
liv
wa
sip
yet
for
gwin
Jim
him
boy
at
Alia
like
war
let o
thin
pock
arte
a lot
day
rapi
whe
bless
ole
had
one
der
Ifs
setti
getti
read
sayi
keer
and
on de
whar
ver d
But
down
do w
de pi
gt
look
h
fry ours ir)
Cott kryz."
Our Meat, Fish, Oy sters, Sara-
toga Chips. Dong,hnnts,
Vegetables, etc.
Like most other people, our
folks formerly LISed lard for all
Stich purposes. When it dis-,
loTer-cl with any of the family
( which, it often did) we said it was
' too rich. We finally tried
teeeate
and not one of us has had an attack
of -ricline;:‘s" since. 'We fuither
found that, unlike lard, Cottolene
hizd no unploasant odor when
cook;ng, and lastly IVIother's fa-
v , and conservative cook-, in g
al idly rity came out and gave it
a beet recommendation which
clinched thee matter. So that's
why we always fry
"f.'" ours in Cottolene.
Solcl S and 5 lb, pails, by
all grocers, Xade onlybr
THE N. N. FAIRBANK
Wellington and Ann. sweetie
de time move along till it come
Chrisenas agin. Miss Alice she was car-
ryin' on high. Chriseraas Eve 'bout Kris
Kringle. an' hangin' up her stockin' an'
she say she knew Old Kris was gwine
"Dey all sat up pretty late 'round. de
fire takin' 'bout dat last Chris'mas vehen
that higger come an' press hiseface
de window -pane and skeered
13ailey so. An' jim he sat dar an' grin-
ned an"lowed he was gwine to eome early
ilex' mornin' an' wake Miss Alice np:an
ketch her Chris'enas gif'. An' she say no
he warn't cause she gaune get up lust an'
come down to my house whar Jim. slep'
an ketch him fust. An' $c) we come on
away, an' she went to bed axin' de Lord
to make Jim white jist like she done ev'y
"Well, Boss hit's a fee' clat gal did get
up 'fore anybody know it an' put on her
little blue cloak her ma done made her,
an' veld her stockin' of Ohrie'mas things
en in hand put out down. ter my house to
wake dat nigger.
"She had to crags Mechum's Brook to
git to my house, you know, an' de brook
was up high and had done washed de foot-
bridge mos away. She didn't know dat,
dough, but started acrost jest a&jim come
out de house on his way to ketch. her
him. Chris'mas. gif', sir an' eTine, you
"She was welkin' out on de bridge all
de time, an' as I come up from de spring
I seen de bridge begin to give 'way, an
den I knowed she , was gone, 'cause de
bridge was high an' de brook was reeky.
"I heern. her call out, 'Jim, come here!
I'm scared !' An' den de whole thing gin
away an' she went down.
"Well, sir, you know dat nigger nuv-
yer had hearn her call for him evident he
went, an' he didn't wait den, but jumped
over de bank an' inter de river 'fore I
could git ter him. Hit's the greeted' won-
der en. de weal' it didn't kill him, but it
didn't. No, sir ; he got to her are grab-
bed her meet an' her dress gin 'way, an'
lie grabbed her ag'in an' brought her out.
But etwarn't no use, Boss. She was done
dead, en her little blue cloak an' her little
steak,' full of Chris'mas things en. her
"Well, sir, dat boy ain't nuvver been
no 'count senee., an' I don't blieve he is
en his right mind. I don't blame him,
neither 'cause I tell you, Boss, hit went
hard arid all of us."
The simple old man stopped. His eyes
were streaming with tears anctraine were
not dry. I bade /aim farewell 'shortly
after, and, passing the house, looked out
for "Christmas Jim." He was sitibag on
the porch, and when he saw me, some as-
sociation connected. with nae, some mem-
ory of the old dines must have struck
him, for his fae,e lit up with the old broad.
grin, and he made several shuffling steps
as though to dance. But suddenly put-
ting his hand by accident in his pocket,
his whole demeanor changed. The awk.
ward shuffling ceased, and as he sat down
again in his customary dejected attitude,
I saw that lie held in his had a piece of
faded. blue cloth.
The earnings of the Grand Trunk rail -
were $349,655, as compared with $844,-
355 the corresponding week last 3Year, an
increase of 87.270,
atosr SUCCESSFUL REMEDY
FOR MAN OR BEAST.
Cektain inns efragfaiatliTiazgr blisters.
KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE
Iltunromr, L, ann. 15, 1894.
Dr, It 1. lissmitt Co.
Kendall's Spavin cure. The linktviin k8 ivOttO Iv)*
and baWifibeti offered 3155 Sot the3 Sante hone,. '
only had nlln nine vreekS, se I eat sit) rot rising
$2 Worth et Eendall's Spayin Ohre.
!burg trUly, W. S. Xeitanfltt
Dr. 11, letkoiere, co.
'with good oilleitekiii for lenirbri 75111. tWO
it la tee beet ireniesesst zbavoeter U.
Ifeurt trtily. Afghan IS
Zor dale b$. all Drugglikk
.604, .L0. ICENDAZ.16
tkoesnieas