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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1895-6-14, Page 3COMIN' THRO' THE RYE,. .404.,,iTglIki,:aywwho cun , you kneW all , starting - Only since a moment ago," he says, .snailing, "And Dow ether all these years, have you not a welcome for me?" I bold ont both my hands with a deep sigh. "If you only knew how glad I ean you have come book 1" I say—"ho w I have Withal for you to come back 1 'You he been, away four whole yews.: "And you remembered aneeall that while?" he says, looking down into my' face eagerly—" you, inissed me?" "So anueh," 1say, gravely, "Viet. often. I have said to Jack, that if I know where you were I should write and ask you, if you had forgotten yoer promise about the fruit -garden. "And that wee the only reason you wanted to see me back?" "Oh, no! I wanted to see you too." "Are you married?" I ask, looking up to the dark, strong nee, that is altered no wet, save that the restlessexpression has fallen away from it, and a better nobler look grown upon it, BY 414Lux B. elATHERS. (OONTeNUED.) "And Isbell come eseth you," he Ws, promptly, "in ease you meet anybody with that waved" oi your head" "No, you will liot," I say, decidedly. "What good would you be to lam, pray? and whom am 1 likely to meet, except a plowman, whose looks I should mbad about as 'mach as the state of that cow yonder? I am going back myself." "Very well," he says, sitting clown on the stile; "I will wait here until rya come backI" Now, if there be anything harassing, it is to know that swim one is waiting for you round tho corner, and counting the minutes to your arrival. To enjoy one's self is 11npossib1e--$01ne of his discomfort ois passed on t you, and. the result is nasty. • "I always thought," I say, with dig- nity, "that when a person was not want- ed, he generally wont." "Thank say$ George, jumping up with alacrity. I won't require you to :say ihab twice." And away he stalks his head well up, 'while I take the seat he has just left va- cant, and congratulate myself on the suc- cess of that last shot. Really, I never saw him go away so gniekly before! What a nice back he has! How well he walks! he ought to have been a soldier! He is really, cross this time, for he does not turn his head once. And now for a rush a,oross that burning, ?broiling expanse of grain. I fly along so fast, my feet scarcely touch the ground, •and as I go I sing a verse of the old, old song: *" Gin a body meet a body, comin' thro' the eTel 'GM a body kiss a body, need a body cry?" I never could sing a bit, but there is no one by to hear mo, and I feel so untie- vountably, jealously happy as though I must make a noise. With my head bent to ievoid the level glare of the sun I see nothing approaching me, and butt head foremost into a black something— "I beg /our pardon!" I say, as I hastily' recoil, and put up my hand to tear off any ridieu- loue wreath. I beg your pardon 1" And, then 1 lin my eyes and see that -this some- thing is Paul Vasher. And I stead star: lig at him with my poppy -wreath in my hand, mute as a stock-fish—I who have the longest, glibbest tongue in Christen- dom—with never a word to say for my - 'self. Although I know him, he does not know me. There is no recognition in bis )glance'only an alert sort of surprise; but, thank Heaven, no amusement, which is under the circumstances simply angelic in him. My heart is crying over and over again. He has come back! He has come back I" with it glad, breathless hurry that amazes rno, but nay lips are dumb, my hand does not steal but in friendly greet- ing, and if ever a young woman looked an awkward, gaping, silly bit of rusticity that young woman an) I. For the first time in alL any life, perhaps,I do not take the first word, and he speaks. "I am trying to find my way to the Manor House, but I an not sure if I am ' in the right path. Can you divect me?" His voice breaks the spell, my tongue begins to wag again. 'I am going that way, and I will show you." I turn nay back upon him, for the path is narrow, wondering heartily whether he is relieving his feelines by having a good grin at my back! Sall a figuic as I look! though on the whole I fancy my back -view is not quite so disreputable as my front. Shall I turn and ascertain? No for it is always more bearable to suspect people are making fun of you than to know it. Arrived at the stile, I find iny- :self in a dilemma; to scramble over it any how by myself is something, to be deli- cately assisted over it by it gentleman is another; for it consists of a single upright slab of stone, that affords no foot hold whatever, and. the only legitimate nieaus of surmounting it is to take it in your :stride or wain it. In the present instance I can do neither, so I look in sore perplex- ity from Mr.Vasher to the stile, and. from the stile to him, until, he probably see- ing the difficulty, we catch each other's eye and go off into sudden laughter. "I never saw anything in the least like that before," he says. "Was it erected for acrobats?" "I think so," I say, recovering. But please do not attempt to help me over, or we shall infallibly roll into the brook! Now, if you would not mind walking on and turning your back—but I can manage it quite by myself!" He walks on, for he is a mau of sense—a fool would stand on theother side of the stile and. argue the matter for half an hour—and I am over, and after him like a shot. "Do you know," he says, as I join him, that when I saw you COMO dancing toward me I could not believe you were anortal? I thought" (laughing) "ahat you must be the goddess of joy dropped out of a cloud, you looked so happy." "And. may not one be happy?" I ask, looking at him in surprise. "Are not all Saes; enmetimes?" "Sometimes," he says; "but moderate- ly, not so overflowing as you were." " Ah 1 if you. only knew all my troubles, " I say, shaking my head,. "you. would won- der I could laugh at call And yet I do, morning, noon, and night. I often think I shial be punished some day for having :such a light heart." "Fuller says, 'An ounce of contentment as worth a pound of sadness to setve God with,' so I don't think you will be heavily eudged!" "By the bye!" I say, turning very red, and dropping any voice, "when you met Inc just now you did not hear me singing, did you?" "Of course 1 Why?" "And you did not laugh?" "There was nothing to laugh at 1" , "I will, toll you it secret," I say, smiling. tweak!, give the world to be able to sing Init I never could.", "It is very odd," says Paul, "but X know your voice quite well—I am sure 1 have heard it before; and your face seems familiar to Me" . "People am so alike," I say, evasively, turning my head away from his keen re- gard. Somehow I do not want hien to recollect nae just yet. "Nature makes all her people in sets, and mine ie a common patteen." "I think not," he 'says slowlee "for never ease but one poison a bit like you, and that was Helen Adair." see his mind trembling on the Welk of discovery, so 1 hastily held up my poppy -wreath for his inspection. "Look!" 3 say, "is it not bizarre,ex-. trimedinary? Did not thet make you 'smile?" Ho takes it from my' hand and tame it round. "Xt looked very pretty on," he aays, "Did you Make it yourself, Nell?" "I am so glad," I say, clapping my hands. "so glad! Do not be angry with me, lint after you went away I used al- ways to think that when I saw you next you would be married to—" I stop shore I bad. forgoten he does not knew that 1 know that he lewd Silvia Fleming; my cheeks turn scarlet as my poppies at my stupidity. Yes," he says, '4 alld tO'WhOM?" "No one in particular," I say, looking down at the grass; "it was only a ridicu- lous fanay of mine." "It was lucky I came through these fields," says Mr.Vasher, "for I was going to the Manor House to see "If you want to find nee of afternoons," I say, laughing, "you must scour the country and look under every hedge and tree; I Jive out-of-doors in the summer. And were you coming to see me so soone That was good of you," "Will you believe," he says looking down on. me (my head barely reaches his shoulder, and. yee I am a very decent height, five feet four inches), "that you were the first person I thougbt of when I wane back to England? Ionly arrived at the Towers yesterday,, and, as you see, have sot out to see you to -day. And, after all, you are it clisappointmente' he says, with it queer smile. "Somehovr I always theught of 111 ding yoa it bright, frank, faced, honest nue) girl, just as 1 left you, and now I—" (he scans me slowly froin head to foot) "I find you grown up and "I wish yea had come back sooner," I say, interrupting, "for, do you know, I am getting beyond gooseberries, and can exist without apples?'' We are passing through the orchard now, and several of the fry are standing about in the distance, distinctly marveling whom on earth Sister Nell has got hold of. In the garden we meet the governor, a,nd to my amazement, instead of Mr, ,Vasher being ignominiously ordered off the prem- ises, papa v7elecemes laim with much pol- iteness, speaks with respect of Mr. Vasher's defunct father, and finally floats him away in it stream of amicable conver- sation Verily, this is a world of change! the two old souls in front, died we young ones behind. "Do you know," I say, lowering anY voice cautiously, for in our fenally we all firmly believe that papa has not 01)1Y oyes but oars in the back a his head, "that perhaps something Most delightful is going to happen to me? There 01 a ohmic° of any going away?" "Geing away?" he repeats, blankly, and it pale, dashed look comes Mr hie face; "do you mean it, Nell?" "Why should I not?" 1 ask in astonish- ment, tipping my stmeennet a little further forward; "is there anything Bo very astonishing in that pray?" "It would tint be en some people), but it is in you; I thought you never went away." "elliat is just why I am $o anxious to begin;" I say, brislky, "Do you. think he will let me go? do you think he will?" "I don't know," says George switching at the grass with Ms stick; 'id.), you Want to do so very xnuoh?" "I think I should break my heart if I did not 1" I say with no conviction, "'Vole see I have never been anyvvnere really; and think of what it would be to go to, perhaps, a ball (do you think they Will dance at Luttrell?) and have a keel ball - dress and a real—" "Lover!" puts in George, with a pale smile; "for you are as sure to have the one as the other!" "You silly boy' l' I say, patting his coat -sleeve, "have you not got over that ridioulons notion yet? I wish you were coming too; yes I do, with all my heart!" "Axe you sure of that?" he asks, look- ing into my eyes with thoseblueOlaOS that have never met mixt° yet without their wave' lovelight burning steadily. "Quite sure:!" I say, smitten with a quick compunction; for am I not devout- ly glad at the prospect of going away from him? and when did he ever leave me with- out regret? "If you go away this time, Nell," *he says, "some other man will fall in love with you, and you. will never come back to roe any more." "%here is no fear of any one I. shall ever see there," I say, softly. I shall come back again like a bad penny, never fear." I stoop to pluck a handfnl of small bind.- weed,wnoso pale pink cups are opening to the sunshine with a dim, faint fragrance. "If only I were sure of you," says the young man; "if only those wretched months were up." "Poor George!" I say, gently. Alas! that I should have to say, poor George! When a woman pities her lover, she' is it long, long way from loving him. "X read somewhere, the other day, that every laugh is a nail out Of your coffin, I say, gayly. "if that is true there cannot be one left in mine, ca,n there? Don't try and take from me my poor little obeerful ness; trouble will come fast enough; it al- ways does to very happy people. It is the croaking, grumbling, ill-used folks who get through life comfortably and make other people bear their burdensi "You would never laugh as you do if you were in love, says George; "you. couldn't." "1 do laugh very loud, I say, consider- ing; "almost as loud as the Bull of Bashan1" "Do you know, I say, feeling rather ruffled, "that you never pay roe any com- plimente now? No one ever paid me any but you, and, besides amusing me, I got quite to like them!" "When a man is profoundly in love he does not make pretty speeches," says George; "he feels them, but he does not speak them." "George," I say presently, as we walk noiselessly over the close -cropped, sweet meadows, "do you not think that a wo- man may have several fancies, and only one heart? or do you believe her heart and her fancy always go together?" "What put that into your head?" he asks, opening his eyes. "Nothing!" I answer, dreamily, "anly I can understand a man and woman fall- ing out terribly, -because he thought she loved some one better than she did him, when in reality her heart belonged per- fectly to that man, although a fleeting fancy for someone else had, for the time being, obscured her vision: there would be 'misery and confusion come, would there not? But after all, it is the heart that stands; the fancy dies away like a puff of a summer wind." "Have a fancy for whom you like, dear, says George; "only keep your heart for rael" "Do you know that I shall look such an old guy, if I go away? Look at this frock!' 'And I hold out the skirt of my modest garment for his inspection. "Well! and what is the matter with it?" "Everything! material, fashion, cut, and age!" "Never you mind," he says, looking at my face, not my gown. "People will look at you not your dress!" "Not they," I say, shaking my head. "Women look at your arose first, and your face after; men look first at a woman's general turn -out; they would rather be seen with. an ugly but perfectly -appointed woman than ever such a pretty one in a bonnet out of date and ill -gloved and booted." "I should prefer the pretty woman witla the out-of-date bonnet," says George; "but surely you can have everything you require for a visit?" "1 ought, but ought is an ill-used word that never gets its rights." "If you would. only marry me, you should have a new silk dress for every day in the year," says the young man with masculine ign.oranee of the number of yards every well -brought -up young wo- man considers it necessary to cram into a skirt. "You would not have me marry you for the sake of silk dresses, would you?" I ask, eeproachfully, feeling somewhat al- lured, nevertheless, at the notion q trail- ing about in black, white, green, blue, lilac, cream -color, or pink attire, every day. "That is true" says George; "and I be - live that numbers of people do not claret) be stylish or they would lose au their friends." Whein I see anything boantiful I have to look at it. I never used to weary of look- ing at Alice or Silvia Fleming.' 'Silvia Fleming I" he exclaims ; "where did you civet see her?" "At Charteris." "At the time Vather was there?" CHAPTER 11. It is nearly a month since Mr. Vasher paid his flying visit to Silverbridge, and eve are drawing very near that illustri- ons First, which is the one day of the yeas to all Englishmen, from the keen sports- man and crack shot to the aimless booby who never goes out with it gun save at it risk of his own and his neighbors' lives. He seemed very sorry to go away, Paul Vasher. Papa says he was absolutely ob- liged to go, business affairs accumulated, eta, eta. He made a pleasant change; / hope he will come back soon 1 At the pres- ent moment I am walking along the pas- sage that leads to mother's room, with a fresh nosegay of flowers in my hand, for her table. "Come in!" she says, as I knock; and entering, I find her sitting by the open window'sinoothing the primrose colored looks of hex youngest born with a brush as soft as switnes-down. I have never written very much about mother, but she is as much the life of her children as the air they breathe; whom- ever or whatever we love we always place them "after mother." As I give her a hearty hug, I become aware of a pleaeed smile on her face, that not only lurks in. every pretty corner, but covers it as with a garment in a most unequivocal manner. 'Jack," I sayewith &sudden leap of joy, through my veins, "he is coming home?" "No," says mother, "it is not Jack. It is an 121Sitation." "An invitation," I repeat. "Are any of our aaeighbars mad enough, or forgiv- ing enough, to try that on again?" "It is from Milly. She wants you to go on the 80th to stay with her for a month." • "Lovely," I say,with a deep gasp; "but he will not let me go." "It is just possible that he may," says mother, "although he has refused all Alice's invitations for you. You would like it, dear?" "Like it!" I say, sighing; "did not the country mouse love to go and stay with the town one, even though he °erne to terrible grief? But, mother, mother, I have no clothes. Running wild is one thing, hut footing it at Luttrell another." "What have you got?" asks mother, setting down her darling, who speedily accomplishes his one object in life, which as to overturn himself. "One black silk, which is skimpy and rusty, and tight and green; two decent white dresses, and ono indecent one; a few priats that look passable enough in the dim vista of a woodland,but are not quite —ahem 1 the thing for visiting. Have you got anything at all left in the ward- robe?" "There is a yellow satin," says mother, "but then, you don't lilee yellow satin." "Especially when nay groat -grandmother upset a dish of gravy down its front," I say, gebnacing. Would you have me like the serving -man in ‘L'Avare,' who was bicldon 'by his master to hold Ms hat over his clothes, that the company might not see the rents and stains?" "Anil there is the pluen-oolored padu- asey," says mother, unheeding any flip- pant interjections, ." and you don't like thiltN.'D, I do nett If I can't have one or Iwo moderately respectable gowris I mast stay at home." "/ don't know what your papa will say'," says another, with a sigh. "If he only says " I say) kissing her, I'll fotigve all the rest. "Nell," says the Bull of Bashed, rush- ing in, "the governor says your're to go clown directly; the Tempests are in the garden." 'Ithe goatlemen are all standing together In the porch, end I say, "How do youths?" to the father, and lay my. Angers in the Witera grasp of the sun; and after that litilci forinuta we ell etroll forth together, il si sawI" Geoege stares at me blankly; he does not mind. my not appreciating his good looks but it cats him for me to place an- other man before berm " You always admired. dark men" he Says With it fell iu his voice. ' 'Always 1" I say beginning to laugh, "Do you know what I ara laughiug at?" "No" "I was thinking of that clay when you weee so angry and walked off in it ltuff and Dever turned your head once. I have so Often thought since that—that if you had only lookea rennet. you would have seen how silly I looked when I ran into Mr. Vasher'and 'the moral I dedamed was 'Never turn your back on your friends but keep your eyes wide open to eee when they make fools of themselves.' " "Good. -by" says George, standing bare- headed under the trees,through which the sunlight flickers lovingly on to his ever fair, bright locks. "If you. do go, wlaieh I devoutly hope you, will not, Nell, there will bo plenty of time for another nice long talk, will there not?" "Pleat -.131" I shy, my heart sinking for I know he will try and win an uncondi- tional promise from me before I go, and that I never will give. "Good -by, George!" And so he goes away, through the light and shadow, a stalwart, knightly figure that many a proud woman might look after with glad eyes of love and pleasure. VOIOU you ran up against laitet net a race olle coedit ever pos. get" 1 say rether tartly; "Paill is the handsomest anon, I ever T'4re1f.E0 WISH Tufa READ* • W Ord Experience of 0, traveller Witlele Occult Scientiets allay exploit'. Soule time ago I was in Sen Francisco, viititieg to take it steamer for Australia, remake(' the narrator to it Boston ITiteen ler reporter, as be relit bis agar. "0110 Sunday evening at the dinner table of an acquaintance, to whom I had earried it lebter of lotrodaction, I was told of the remarkable powers poseessed by an old man, a friend of the family. They said lie could tell your name, the day and year of your birth, and. Almost anything yeal might ask him without your giving 11110 the least clew of Your identity, Never having seen anything of the kind, 1 was entirely inoredulous. My Interest being aroused, I said, You say this =tan lives but four blooks from here—let me go and call upon him at once. 311 no other way would I be satisfied should he be able 1) do as you all say, that you have not hoax- ed or tricked me, although I am well awaxe that there is nobody in this oity who could furnish the information.' My host said at once: 'Our friend is close at hand—go at once and see what he can tell ou—you can be back in less than an hour.' So I put 071 my hat and soon found the door of the old man's home, "I was usbend into the sitting -room and waited. In it minute or two an old man appeared and greeted me with: Why, Henry, I am happy to see you. How is our friend 0 to -day?" My surprise and wonder were complete; for the old gentle- man, taking hold of my hands and having 2110 sit beside him, told Ine where I was born and the date, any another's maiden name and many facts only known to my- self. Tine was strange enough, but even it more extraordinary phase of my inter- view soon developed. The old man stop- ped talking and after apparently listening for some time he said: 'Here is an old lady Who wants you to send her love to her son, it friend of yours. She won't tell me her name, but she was killed in it runaway in Chicago some years ago.' Now, I never had a friend that I knew of whose mother was killed in this way. I asked the old man to try and find out the name of my friend, else her xequest would be of no avail. At last the old man said his name was Charles A., and that he lived in Philadelpbia. I had such a friend in that city, but I knew nothing whatever of his parents except that ho was an orphan. "In loss than an hour I was back at my friend's house. That I had been convinced —that there was something in occultism —was no surprise to those who knew the old gentleman. "Well, 3 went to Australia and remain- ed there a year. In the meantime I had forgotten any San Francisco experience till one day I had a note from my Philadel- phia friend, Charles A., saying he wanted to see me I called -upon him, and as a prelude to our conversation he asked: 'I never toll you, did I, of the frightful acci- dent that robbed. me of my mother in Chicago?' "This revelation made me chilly. The reason I speak of this,' said my friend, 'is because of it strange experience I had late- ly. The daughter of a friend of mine has discovered that she is endowed with some stiange power. If you hand her some- thing you have had, upon your person for some time, she will close her eyes and tell the most astonishing things, and what It Used. to be from the Window Across puzzles me is that she never seems to the Way, but Things Have Changed. make a mistake. Well, the day I called Young Mrs. Lambkin was delighted to upon her I had in my pocket the last let - see her dear Marie when she called; indeed ter you addressed to me from Australia. she assured her of the fact herself. I pulled it out of nay pocket and handed "I was beginning to fear lest you were it to her, saying: 'Can you tell me some - unable to come, as you expected," she re- thing of this person?' She held the letter marked; "it was growing too late." in her hancl for a little evhile and then "Oh, 1 was determined to come. You said: 'Why, Mr. A., your friend who is in see, it Will be my last chance before I go and California is so far away that I 'may not be back in Toronto for untold ages." "Yes, indeed, you poor exile! But, never mind; your husband may make enough money to enable you to live in Toronto some day." "No doubt. But, of course, I should not be satisfied unless I hail any own home —though really,your little flat seems very nice, and, no doubt,you are quite content- ed in it." "0, yes. One could be contented any- where with Alexia's. You have no idea how happy we are." "Indere, I always quite liked him in the days when he spent most of his time at our house." "Yes, I remember. It was immediately : r s from my home. He could keep a., h on all my movements from your windows." "Very likely. I remember that you were generally at one of the front win- dows. Do you find this a pleasant neigh- borhood?" "Quite so. I'm always afraid of burg- lars, though, and now I shall be more so than ever." "I should be awfully afraid myself. But, then, I received such handsome wed- ding presents"— " Speaking of presents," interrupted Mrs. Lambkin, as she drew out a case and opened it, "to -day is my birthday, and see what a lovely gift my husaband brought mel" "Diamonds!" gasped Marie. "How lovely! But --but, aren't you afraid he will ruin himself, giving you such ex- pensive things? I shouldn't think of al- lowing my husband to do it." "Bat then, dear Alexius is such a good business man. He can quite afford it" "Who would have thought it in the days when he used to come to see"— "I was surprised when he gave it to me. I hadn't the least idea—why, here comes Alexius himself. Whatever has beought him home so early to -day? Just give me that case, will you, dear? He—he always hates display. a "Oh, bother! What if he does? I haven't half looked at it. Do you quite like the setting? Why Mr. Lambkin, how do you do? I am just admiring dear Eudora' s lovely diamonds." "Eudora Lambkin, wherever did you get those things?" queried her husband, oblivious of the signs she was making to him. And just then the demi opened once more and the head of Cleland girl appear- ed: "If you please, Mrs. Lambkin;" she re- marked, "the young man from Stone Se Silver's is hero to asie about them there diamonds they sent on approval." In the slight pause which followed deat Marie arose, smiling, and said that she really must go, - CHAPTER IIL It is Saturday, the 80th of August, and. X am speeding along through golden sun - flooded fields of wheat, and thorn, brown: green meadows; not on my own two in- differently -shod feet, but in a carriage drawn by a paling, snorting, hissing, dirty monster, .who makes a prodigious noise, and hurry, and fuss, as he goes on his iron way rejoicing. I am off! Actual- ly off 1 It is a quarter of an hour since I left Silverbridge station, and wished mother and George good -by.' He did look so down in the mouth, and I always clid hate to see a man miserable, all women wbimper more or less, but men ought not to be bothered, Well, he'll get out into the world some day, I hope; and there's noth- ing puts a love affair out of a man's head so quickly as having a, lot to do, it is only the people who sit down and think,think, think, of one particular person, who take a disappointment so much to heart. The title little people sitting opposite eue are sisters,as alike as two peas, and I think as green; and the only difference that I can discern between them is that one has a permanent hitch in her nose, and the other has not. They are neither very young nor very old: they hover on that chey,eneutralegray border -land that divides the young maid from the old one A stolid British matron sits on me right, with a red account -book in 11 r hand filled with vows of ligures that shone:. make bar eyes ache. (TO 33B CONTINUED.) eyame "Whew I" Whistles George; "why he was in love) with her; engaged to her Some years ago; no one ever knew why the match was broken off. Vasher must be getting An old fellow by now.' " Old 1" I say in astonishment. "Old did you say? Re cannot be mach past thirty.' ' "That Is a good deal" says George with ell fa young nian's impertinence "why' you Were only a child when you first knew him Noll. "os I was only a child "And 3 can't undeestand how yeti read:. ALEXIIIS KEPT WATCH. A Kansa. Sand Storm. " Sand storms fitiellt to favor Colorado end Kleneae more than any other of the Western states," said it man just errived form Kansas, "While residents of Kinuitts ere Dot surprised to see the air filled with dust aiming the spring, the d.ast storm that visitea Chenenthe other day was an unusual one. All day Tieureeay and der. ing 'the afternoon on 'riacty the air Was riled with dirt and. dust $o that thepoople cold meanly breathe. This continued until late in the afternoon, when ram eiouds mo,do their appearance, annell to the relief of every one But this last bope of relief soon gave to one of despair. In the southwest about five o'cloek, a large cloud of dust was seen to be swiftly ap- preaching, Everyone thought a cyclone was coming, and all hurried to places pot shelter. By 6 o'clock the storm was mein all its fury. The wind blew a gale and, whippecl the dust into every nook and cox - nor, from which there WAS no escape. At 7 o'clock, there suddenty eame a dead calm, All Kansas people understand this dread import, and again the fear of impending danger *seized everyone., All at once a heavy black cloud eoula be seen approach- ing from the north. The awful suspense of the moment was Soon over, and then the black, stifling duet came howling from the north like a thousand demons. Houses Were closed and blinds pulled down, and the great seas of sand were kept out, but the veloeity of the wind drove the fine particles through every crack and crevice of the dwellings. Carpets, turniture— everything in the house—was covered be- fore morning with a black layer of dust. The storm! ,kept up neatil after midnight, A peculiar thing happened. to Frank Wal- ton at his home near Cheney. During the storm he started with a lantern in his hand to find it horse that he had but a few minutes before turned into the barnyard. The dust was so thiek that his lantern did hira no good, and he set it down and tried to reach the lot in the daxkness, On his way he ran head first against it cottonwood tree, and this stunned him for it rainute. Be finally found the horse and put it in the barn. After getting inside the basal Mr. Walton says his mouth was full of diat, and as he spit it out a spark of eleo- trioity shot from his mouth and that every time his horse sneezed, flashes of the oleo- tric carnet shot from both nostrils and from the point of each ear. He went back to the house, and when he came to the pump clipped up a cup of water from the trough end threw it up into the air, and instantly every drop seemed. a brilliant ball of fire. Taleen all in all, this was one of the most remarkable storms over experi- enced in that country. At Cheyenne, Wells County, 001. ,a station on. the Union Pacific, thirteen cars of sand were taken from the depot platform. In Stanton County, Kan., three children, aged 8, 9, and 10 years, left home the two younger on horseback, just beiore the storm, to drive up some cattle. This was on Fri- day and it was the last seen of them alive. Sunday morning they were foundby their father three miles south of home, lying - in the road dead, and half buried he sand. It is supposed that they wandered atound until exhausted, and had laid down to rest. They were all three lying near to- gether, and close: by stood the, faithful horse that had never left them during the forty hours of snow and sand." •*d...m••••i Straightening it Stooping Child., A. mother, WhoSe little daughter 10 in- olined to stoop, is gradually breaking the habit by a revival of an old custom. She makes the child wear a book on her head during some hours, In the house, each day. The woman's oven mother was brought by Mee treatment to possess it most Inelastic and beautif ul bearing, Which aleo counteracted e daxiDwriese of the bhest, which eapanded under the rigidly enforced rule: reesametilri Height of Ocean Waves. An article quoted. in Current Litera- ture, gives this interesting information • on ocean waves: Dr. a Scnott, as the re- sult of studying the form and beiglat of the wave, of the sea, claims tbat under a mod- erate breeze their veloc ty was 24.6 feet per sceond, or 16.8 miles an hour, which is about the speed. of a modern sailing ve sl. As the wind. rises, the size and Australia, has it message from your mother speed of the waves Inc ease. Li a strong whom he spoke to in San Francisco:. But breeze their length rises to 260 feet and your mother is not living. This is very their speed reaches 860 or 861 feet per sea - funny, but that is what I feel.' The men- ond. Waves the period of which is nine tion of my mother's name affects me seconds, the length 400 or 425 feet,andthe deeply, having never fully gotten over the sped twenty-eight nautical miles per shock that her untianely and sad .death hour, are prod= d only in storms. Dur - gave me. Now I want to ask you if you ing a southeast storm in the southern At - can give any explanation of this?' lantic Dr. Schott measured waves 690 feet "I said I could, and then went on to re- long, and this was not a maximum; for in late the occurrence with the old Fan. latitude 28 degrees south end L ngtitude 'What did mother say?' asked my freeenet 89 degrees east he observed wanes of fifteen She said, 'Tell Charles he has his mother'S seconds' period, which were 1,160 feet love.' long, with a velocity of 78.7 feet per sec- '" That was an expression of hers,' said ond, or 46 1-8 nautical miles an hour. Dr. Schott does not think that the maximum height of the waves is very great. Some observers have estimated it at thirty or forty feet in. a wind of the force represent - my friend, as he passed into the next room, with tears rolling down his face." • Poison Sumach. and Poison Ivy. There is a aieferemee itt the general ed by eleven on the Beaufort so .le (the pearance of the plants, both as to stalks highest number of which is twelveand and foliage, by which the poisonous and Dr. Schott's maximum is just thirty-two the harmless varieties of the sumach can feet. He believes that in great tempests be distinguishedl from eaeh other, writes waves of more than sixty feet are rare, Eben E.Rexford in a very valuable article and that even those of fifty feet are excep- on "Our Poisonous Plants," in the June ' tional. In the ordiniwy trade winds the Ladies' Hone journal. The former has height is five or six feet. The ratio of light-colored stalks' frequently blotched height to length is about 1:83 in a moder- evith wihte or gray, and the foliage is thin ate wind, 1;18 in a strong wind, and 1:17 and firm in texture with a glossy surface, in it storm; from which it follows that while the latter has a soft, thick leafaa line inclination of the waves is respectively brown stalk, hairy in the early stages of about 6, 10, 11 degrees. The ratio of the the new growth, and is of a mush strong- er habit; often becoming quite a tree. This variety bears fruit quickly covered with crimson hairs in spiky, terminal bunches, while the poisonous variety has berries of a greenish white—very similar in size and color to those of the poison ivy —in 1 ose, pendent clusters, along the upper part of the branches. The h Traless rhus is almost lways found on the uplands and in open places, while the poisonous • ort prefers moist ground and shade. The former takes on a most beautiful vaxiega- tion in fall, its pinnate, palmate foliage turning to red, sement and maroon, of ex- ceedingly rich and brilliant shades, while the latter become; a pale yellow. This poisonous variety is it most dangerous plant. It is worse than the poison ivy by far. Many persons cannot pass near it without being affected, as if they had really handled it, strange as it ma.y seem. L steins to be able to communicate its 'virulent qualities to the atmosphere which surrounds ,t, Putting on New Gloves. put them on medially, as mush of their future usefulness depends upon this ftrat operation. Never put on gloves when yell are in a hammy and east ping out; rather cheese another timenvhen your hands aro cool and you have ten minutes or so to de- vote to them. Before beginning opera- tions dust it Wale powder into each glove, for this evill cause them to slip on more easily. Work the fingers well on befere putting in the thumb; then work that in slowly, gradually smoothing the kid oat° the hand. When the glove Is carefully pnb on pull it well down and button the second button, and any others that ti 00 aro, teeth the exception of the first leaving the fine button until the last, If the hand aro hot; remove the gloves, and then turn thein inside out, pulling them care- fully into shape and leaeing thein i11 the air for an hour or byeo before laying thorn aevity. Modesty is net one of the merits of Mammon, height of the waves to the force of the 'wind varied greatly. Proved His Identity. A. very good story relating to Nathaniel Hawthorne is being told. ' At one- time the famous author was the 'United. States consul at Liverpool. During this period there walked into his office one day a young mart who desired assistance. He was it Yankee he said, and had left home to make it fortune in foreign fields, but had failed, and now, tired of the struggle in a strange land, and heartily homesick as well, he wanted the consul to provide him with money enough to pay his way back to America. The chief clerk regarding the lad with suspicion, and feeling that his story was cooked up for the occasion, informed him that Mr. Hawthorne could not be seen,but the boy was persistent, and finally eanied his point. The clerk yieldeci to his soli- citations ancl went into Mr. Hawthorne's private Offiee. "There's it boy out there who insists upon. seeing you," he said, "He says he'S an American, but I don't believe it." "I'll see him," said the consul, and walking mit into the main aloe, he 'said, "Well, my lad, what do you want?" The boy told him his story. "What part of America do you come from?" "Ilnited States." "What state?" "New Hampshire, sir." 'What town?" 4 Exeter. " Hawthorne looked at the boy' et:neatly for a moment. Then he said, "Exeter, ehr "Yes, sin " replied the boy. "Who sold the best applee • in your town?" $' Skim -milk VolsOm, sir," veturned the boy. "Se's all right," Itaitt REWthOtafi) With it smile to the clerk. "Giee'liim 'hie pas- sage," The mote that is in, every bunion eye may be reduced. by care and prayer.