Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1896-2-7, Page 2• THE VICAR'S ai .._. ..••gym..,- GOVIRNE CHAPTER XVII, "It le the hydra of calamities, are, The sevenfold death: the jealous the Deemed."Yonne. l Flaying watched her until the, last folds of her gown bas disappeared, Brans-, combo tame abruptly away, and, pass- ing through a glass door that leads to ,the gardens outside, paces slowly up and down the windiue paths beneath the subened light of countless Chhiese, lanterns„ that, hanging amidst the foliage, contrasts oddly with tlia cold white brilliancy of the stars overhead that My• riads, as to wage '"Rush forth in lanee, and at length orossea the xQOU w t bei s i h new standing gg w oro shale zo where As he does an he thugs Trona 440, all tormenting thoughts, forget.. ting -'ns it is bis nature to do --the pos- sible misery of the future in the gereein "Very," says Dorian, unkindly, yet lia;E encs ofthe present, with very kind! intent, BrrL; then she The next is ours, ie It not 1" lie Banal Is always one of the most beautiful wo- end She smiles at him, and•8 �1 8 men f knew." '-willingly transfers her bans Is she ,very ' is heavy's arm to w�is; and hen they mush admirodl' *this dance; and presently he takpa her down rather timidly. „cine can understand that at once,'" to the Pay s' cxprxiage and puts fact says Dorian, quietly, ' Both her face carefully into it, end eresses her hand, and figure are perfect..' As he says I thhale, ever so silently, end sales thee, quite ealmly, bis heart bleeds for drives home, beneath the silent the girl beside bine with an odd sensation at lits heart-' "Wlao bas she been dancing most half pain, half pleasure --be bas never with?" Eagerly, almost painfully, this Pelt before, question is put, Tia utter s"ireplieity of it touches Dorian to his heart's sore. C11APTRR :K•VI11, with my brother, 01 course. She firnoun anisobivfs have their oti e,but relic would not carp to dance vo y doubts have none;' much with any out else now, on a And better is despair, than . friendless countof her engagement.". hopeHor cugagemont?" Mixed with a frilling fear," "Yes. She is to be married to my 1 It i9 two ()Week on the following day. brother some time next year J" He hates himself bitterly as .he says Horace, -who came down from town for with Dorian darkness, this; but something within him compels the ball acct is staying o air is,not it breath him to the cruel deed if only through sauntering leisurely into the smoking - Cold as tho'nightboo verlooking ,some fishing e, The room is a mingled and hopelessly ns u es �vhi s. disturb the, strange pit for the girl of wind comas to dist Par 'lYhey aro, now dawn at angs over ocean lies at rest, trees, an a down in the bay the o though In very.truth, 'if'he could have sn1aeglel'islim'm�roctegancl pipes, porxingrplc- War with the linos of who'walks beside him. room at Sartoris, finds Dransaom land and sea within the shad» of o taakl that hd ' h epic: see lie' foto' From the Melanie a faint seund_ oL seen it •at thhi moment, he wouldnottures; thorn are too a Tow other tic- music from the band comes softly, se ductively to the 'ear ; but beyond and: f the ds this head, and a various and most above it comes the song ot the nightin- gale' that, resting in yonder thicket, pours forth its heart in hurried melody, as though fearful the night will be "Too short for him to utter forth hie love -chant, And disburden his full soul of all its music." The notes rise and fall, and tremble on the air. No other sound comes from mistalty betrayedt ab1 her lore !m tint, NR.. AND NRS BI SI+ sae, Dorian find never for one moment, IR 1 a suspected that things bad gone Author than a mere foolish girlish liking for a Meir rather handsomer than the ar'- dlnare x'un of men. leis brotber'a hon or he bad not doubted, nor did be demi him capable of any act calculated to bring misery upon one who had treated ham` ! -terrible Now, }n spite of, lrirusoi1, a doubt,arisee 'bat will not be suppress- ed; like a blow, ponvietlon falls; and many Iiast. actions and pµst words crowd Co lies mind that, at the time of their• occurrence, seemed as more ,no- things, but now are ""confirmations strong" of the trate that has just flashed upon hen, had he lied to him wben lie told him mans. If things go wrong, some one few minutes since he bad been to else Is to blame for it, and it is more SINCE LAST HEARD FROM THEY HAVE HAD LOTS OF TROUn4E, Mr, Bowser Dens an Aueiqueted 'Peng Nf , gat -QP Course) It Was the lady's 'Fault -She Was Also ;.entirely to Blamefor Other ilrfehape, All busbands are always right and always consistent, and Mr. Bowser, is no exception to the rule, If things go all right he congratulates bimself that they do, and lays it to hie good judge thedivot/ farm and not anywhere rn the d ' tion of the Old M}119 Doubt convenient to lay' it on Mrs. Bowser o neo Mr.. having once assortod,itaelf makes bin' than any one 0190, Not long ago v distrustful of life brother's aver Bowser reached home in a rainstorm, book 'acid every tone. • And the band- He had his mind all made up as to kercbbef I He must have had it from Ruth borsch, and dropped it here in- whet he should say before he entered advertentlybefore leaving the room, the house, and as Mrs, Bowser met To him the idea that Horatio should hem do the hall he glared at ]ler in a have chosen a timid„ fragile, gentle girl, like Ruth Aimersley, upon whom stony way, and said: to play off the fascinations and wiles "Perhaps you can call to mind a re - taught hhn by a fashionable world, Is mark I made as I left the house this nothing less than despicable. A deep morning 1" sense of dwntompt for the man who "About weather?" she queried. the . e "Yes, ma'am, about the weather l have looked attt. No word escapes or ; ur ; lo' pass away pleasantly a few dal she walks on steadily,. though actually tures that might 110 exactly come un- hoursin the of a woman country, would dlmhie entad. ma da strong by the receiving or de• thisis c and a s' r various and i ost Ho is frowning hheart, and 'his mind. the breast ot nature to mar the 'richness of its tone. No earthly thing seems liv- ing but itself. For it the night appears created, and draws its "sable curtain stained with gold" over the sleeping world. This nightingale, of all the feathered tribes, is wakeful, and chants. its hymn of praise at midnight, whilst all its brethren rest in peaceful slumber. The intense and solemn stillness of all around renders more enchanting the trills and tender, trembles that shake its tiny throat. There is "No whispering but of leaves, on which the breath Of healennppesys inusic to the birds that sYet this one sweet bird refuses rest, and, as though one of those "small foules" that "alepen alle night with open eye," sings on courageously amidst the gloom. Dorian, strolling absently through the walks, and into the sbrubberies be- yond, listens, and feels some sense of comfort (that has yet with it a touch oht- E pain) creep throughsweet osmitern s the uponghis ear. is not the only sound that Yet this disturbs the quiet of the night. Sadly, mournfully, a half -suppressed sob falls upon the air. Branscombe starts, and looks round suddenly, but can see nothing. No foot- steps make themselves beard. The shrubs are sufficiently thick to conceal the presence of any one, yet it seems to him as if the thought of that sob was born of fancy, and that the earth- ly owner of it is unborn. Than some ray from the brilliant moon opens his eyes, and he sees a woman's figure standing in a somewhat disconso- late attitude, with her back against a tall elm, and her eyes fixed wistfully upon the distant windows, through which the lights are streaming, and the mpassing to and fro of the dancing crowd y be distinctly, seen. Dorian, recognizing her, goes quickly up to her and lays his hand upon her shoulder. It is Ruth Annersley i She stifles a low cry, and, turning to him, grows even a shade paler than she was a moment since. "Ruth," says Dorian, "what on earth brings you here at this hour?" For a moment she makes him no an- swer. hand to brush She raises Sh ewer away the tears that still lis heavily upon her cheeks, and then moves a little away from bin, so as to elude his touch. I came to see them dancing," she says, at length, with difficulty ; " I thought it would be a pretty sight • and -it is -I have leen so-so pleased The words seem to choke her. With a movement that is terribly pathetic she lays her hand upon her heart; and then Dorian, following the direction her eyes have taken, sees what they see. In an open window, directly opposite to wbere they are standing, two figures can be seen in very close proximity to each other. Beyond are the forms of the dancers; the faint sweet strains of the band float out to meet the midnight air; but the two in the window seem lost to all but the fact of their own existence, and that they are together. At least, so it seems to the onlookers in the shrubberies. See, now he lakes her band,-tbe kindly curtain b'.ding the eat from those within; he stop;::; to.vard her; the girl There is something so unpleasant, so; Strang and painful doubts of'Doraan's. leans a little fo: and and than Dorian sneering, about his tone that Dorian; honesty of purpose had kept him wake - knows them; tb m i i, florae', and colors hotly. fel, and driven him now down from his the girl Claris Pd .on I ' I confess I hardly see it in the light own home to Sartoris. Instinctively } g1 .pees from them •„u do," he skys, easily enough, but A strangelonging to see his favorite to Ruth. bbs, 10,is le :Mforward,r.,.r;e coldly. And I think I shouldI nephew again, to look upon the face her whole atter. on r nese; rated le •n term the coincidence lucky' rather than' he had always deemed se true, to hear the picturebefore hese Her eves are envious. I see no difference between the voioe he loves bast on earth, had wide and ineerable, her emcee pale anti this walk andhalf •a dozen others. Pao- taken possession of him; yet now he haggard. plc don't seem to affect any of them finds himself confronting Dorian " You have seen enougb of this ball, mch u Ruth," says Branscombe, very gently. warmly a word to say to him. says Lord Sartoris. I hardly hoped to find you at home," "Go home now. "Any other fellow might have leen be says, with an effort. "Yes ; enough -too much," says the here as well as me. You, for example." ' What; a very haltering speech 1 eh], starting into lite again. She 'Just so!" says Lord Sartoris. Was that why you came? Sit here, draws her breath quickly, painfully: " Then why bring in the word Arthur: you will find it much more her brow contracts. As though unable to curious?" comfortable." resist the movement, she again lays her elt merely occurred to me at the mo- He pushes toward him tbe cozily - hand upon her heart, and haldsib thee, ment., says his lordship, dryly. Been cushioned chair in which Horace had as though in anguish.,dancing much?" been sitting a minute ago. "What is it?" asks Dorian. You "Yea, -no, -Pretty well. inc ,you ' Do I look tired enough to require in pain ? How white you are:" "" coming ]n ? " this?" says Sextons, sinking, however, "I am tired, I bave a pain bore, They are again in front of the house, very willingly into the chairs ernerace. pressing her hand still more. alosely and near the steps that lead to the As he dors so something lying on the against her side. "This morning ] felt conservatory, ground (that has escaper! Dorian's no - well and strong -and now—. My mo- Not just: yet, T think." tier) lrl.tracts him. ther died of heart disease; perhaps I "Then, I fear, T must leave You. I \Vhat. is this?" he oaks, stooping to shall die of it too. I think so ;' 1 hope um engaged for i,his dant e " pick it, up. so I" So, for the first time, these two part I1: Ls a lace handkerchief, of delicate You are talking very gree t h n mldly. The old man goes slowly, mood- and exquisite workmanship, with some sense," says Dorian. roughly, though g i1y, up and own the graveled path be- , letters embroidered in One corner. his soul shocked to the last degree by neath the brilliant moon, that - 1 "you have been receiving gentle the girls manner, which ich s full alg amuse From her clouded veil soft gliding, i eisiters ver early, says Lord Sartoris, less misery y Lifts her silvery lamps on high, ' turning the pretty thing round and blow. 'Dorian would gladly believe that ber chairs. silence means indifference ; but to -night , There is a patriarchal sofa, "born to has forced a truth upon him that for; create slumber' and an ancient arm months he has determinedly, pat behind chair, stuffed with feathers and dreams him. Her tears, her . agitation, the , of many sleepers. Over the door stand agony that shone in her eyes as she , out the skeleton remains of a horse's fixed them upon Horace's form in the head, bleached and ghastly, and alto - window, have betrayed only too surely i;ether hideous, that, even now, reminds the secret she would gladly hide. ;its master of a former favorite hunter She makes no further attempt at con- that had .come to a glorious but un- versation, and, when they come to the timely end uponthe hunting -field. A little iron gate that leads on to the road, stuffed setter with very glassy eyes, would have passed through and gone sits staring, in an unearthly fashion. on her homeward, way mechanically, , in one corner. Upon a window -silt a without bidding hum even good -night, cat sits, blinking lazily at the merry as if (which is indeed the case) she has ;spring sunshine outside. forgotten the very fact of bis near Are yreally going back to town presence. this evening, Horace?" asks the owner But he cannot let her go without a'' of 111 these gems, in a somewhat gloomy word. :fashion, banding over a fishing -lane as "Good -night," be says, very kindly, 1 he speaks, his tone warmer because of his laity for , "Yes. I feel I am bound to be back her. "Take care et yourself. Are you there again as soon as possible." sure you do not fear going alone ?" I Business 1" ]s exact! "Yes," Her voice is low, and sounds "Well, T can hardly say it y strange, even in her own ears. press of business, says the candid nor - "Wrap your shawl more elosely round ace; "but if a man wants to gain any, you. The night is cold. is the pain he must be on the spot, 1 take it 1" in your side better?" "Quite so. Where have you been all "'i.os,"-almost regretfully the morning? Sleeping?" " That is right. Well, good -by. 1 "Nothing half so agreeable." By shall stand here until I see you have this :dine Horace is looking at him curi- safely turned the corner:. then. I shall ously, and with a gleam en his eye, that ' He is half amusement, half contempt: Do- rian, "whose head is bent over his work, sees neither the amusement nor the scorn. "1 did not go to bed at all. I walked down to the farms to try to get soma fresh air to carry back with me to the stifling city." Ah 1 past the mill 1 1 mean in that direction ?-toward the upper farms?" "No; I went past Biddulph's," says Horace, easily, half closing his eyes, and Dorian believes him, "It is lighter walking that way; not so hilly. Did you put in a good time, last night?" Rather so. I don't know when I moan and cry aloud against her Late, enjoyed an affair of the kind so much." with only the friendly darkness to over- Lucky you!" yawns Horace, San - hear her! She hurries rapidly onward, guidly. "Of all abominations, surely and soon the corner hides her from balls are the worst. Ona goes out when sight.one ought to be turning in, and one Dorian, when she has safely passed turns in when one ought to be going the spot agreed upon,oes back once out. They upset one's whole calcula- more in the direction of the house. He tions. When I marry I shall make a has hardly, however, gone two hundred yards, when the voice of his uncle, Lord Sartoris, calling to him through the gloom, stays his steps, and rouses him from the painful reverie into which fast falling. he is were yu parting with at the gate?" asks Lord Sartoris, in so unusu- al a tone that Dorian looks at him ]n some surprise. sti. H a is a little s n r ry. for reasons that do not touch lieneeif, that the question should have been asked at all Ruth Annersley," he answers, with- out hesitation,feeiang that any prevari- cation at this moment will only make matters worse for the unhappy girl. May not Arthur have seen and known her? "Ruth Annersley?" "Yes. You will, of course, say no- thing about it. She was foolish enough a few people danoin - o to wish tp see w 1 , s p ' . among the came here,and-standm g shrubs, otained her wish -which, no doubt, proved as satisfactory as most of our desires, when gained," "At this hour of the night to be here, alone 1 " "Yes. Very imprudent of her, of course, and all that." There must have been some strong inducement to make a girl of her gentle nature undertake so bold, so daring, a step. It was a strictly improper ac- tion," says the old man, in his most stilted style. I dare say. Imprudent, however, was the word I used. I am rather glad I was the one to meet her, as she knew .halls, makes his way into the open air me ; and, as a rule, people talk so much throu8 hthe conservatory ; while Lord about nothing, andmake such moon- Sartoris, entering by the ball door, and tains out of mole -bills." being directed by a servant, goes on to It was fortunate, indeed, your meet- Dorian's den, ing her. It might,do fact, almost be He is looking fagged and care -worn, termed a curious cainciden:e,,yourman- a,nd has about him that look of extrme aging to lie on this deserted walk just at lassitude that belongs to thous to whom the required moment. I sleep overnight has been a stranger. has grown very white. Looking up, he beaame aware that his uncle is watching him narrowly, To the old man the altered coun- tenance ofhis nephew, his pallor and hesitation, all betoken guilt. Dorian's' eyes are still eloar and calm, es usual, but his expression has strangely alter- ed. " Ii,. A,,' " remarks Lord Sartoris, slowly. " Why, that might mean Ruth Annersley." know you are out of all danger, has been holding her hand somewhat anxiously all this time, not quite liking the strained expression in her face. Now he presses it, and then drops it gently. "Good night," returns she,, slowly, and then turns away from frim, never remembering to thank him for his kind- ness, -hardly, indeed, conscious of hav- ing spoken the farewell. word. Her brain seems on tire ; her body cold as death. 0h, to be in her own room, free from all watching eyes, where she can fling herself upon the ground, and Dint of for etting that suoh things be. p "And Clarissa?" asks Dorian, dryly • ""I can't say about the dancing part of it, -you may, I suppose, abjure that if 3 ou like, -but I think you will see a All or two before you die. She likes that sort of thing. By the bye, how lovelyishe looked last night!" "Very., She out out all the other WO - men, 1 thought ; they looked right down rid her," cheapbeside ownway," "She had it vex much her � "S'ha y says Dorian ; yet, even . as he speaks, there rises before him the vision of a little lithe figura gowned in black and crowned with yellow hair, whose dark - blue eyes look out at him with a smile and a touch of wistfulness that adds to their beauty. "That little girl at the vicarage isn't bad to look at," says Horace, idly, beat- ing a_ tattoo on the window -pane. Miss Broughton? I' should call her for Dorian, ook at," saysr very cod to 1 than fust time making the discovery that there may be moments when it would' be a sure and certain joy to kick even one's own brother. "Here is Arthur," says Horace, pres- ently, drawing himself up briskly from his lounging position. '"A little of him goes a long way; and! should say, judging from the expression of his lips, that he is in his moodiest mood to -day. You may interview him, Dorian: I feel myself unequal to the task. Give him my love and a kiss, and say I bave gone for a ramble in the innocent woods." He leaves the room, and, crossing tbe 'It might," returns Dorian, absently. He dares not speak bis Inmost .thoughts. After all, ;Horace may not be in the wrong: the girl's own vanity, or folly, may have led her to believe a few words spoken in jest to mean more than was. ever intended,. And, at all events. no matter what comes of it, he cannot be- tray his brother. How could it have come here?" asks Lord Sartoris, without raising his eyes. from the luckless handkerchief: " Do you know anything of it 1" "Nothing; except that it belongs to Ruth. I gave it to her last Christmas." ' You 1 A curious gift to e girl in her rank in lite?" "She wisbed for it," returns Brans - combo, curtly. Then she is no doubt heart -broken, imagining she has lost It. Return it to her, I advise you, without delay," says his uncle, contemptuously, throw- ing it from him to a table near, "I need not detain you any longer, now," -rising, and moving toward the door. "Going so soon?" says the younger man, roused from his gallingreflections; by leis uncle's abrupt deparure, tosome sense of cordiality. "Why, you have hardly stayed a moment." '" I have stayed long enougli,-too ing his dark eyes (that ago have failed to dim) upon the man who has been to him as bis own soul. " Too long? " repeats Branscombe, coloring darkly. " Yes. Have you forgotten altogeth- er the motto of our race? -'Leal friend, leal foe.' Let me bring it le your mem- ory." t'Pray do not trouble yourself. I re- member it perfectly," says Dorian, figure t o its 2u •ht' drawing uphis ul c � h. g haughtily, g fullest height. "1 am sorry, my lord, you should think it necessary to remind. mo of it." Ile bows and opens the door as he finishes his speech. Lord Sartoris, though sorely troubled, makes no sign ; and, without so much as a pressure of the hand, they part. (To be Continued.) merit in dying. Come, let tee see you hope." Oh, no I ""please do not come, Branscombe, entreats aloe, 50 earnestly that he feels she has a meaning in ter wards. "1 have the key of the email gate, and can run ,home in five minutes moo I pass thasafe! "7 hon at least' I shall see youy as far as the gate," says, Branscombe, who is tender and gentle in his manner to all women. Silently they Walk through the damp night erase, neither spearing, until, eri ieg to a curve n the way, she breaks silence, "Hove be,•utitiful Miss Peyton looks to -night," she sties, in a tone impossible to translate., and thinks of many things in a humor more sad than ,hitter; while the young man, with angry brow and lips com- pressed, goes swiftly onward to tbe house. As he regains the ball -room, the re- membrance of the little partner be has come to claim ,rashes back upon him pleasantly, and serves 1a dissipate t:he gloomy and somewhat indignant; thoughts that have been oppressing him, But where is she? He looks anxiously around; and, after five minutes' fruit,- less ruitless search, lo I there aro her eyes smile Ing out at him from the arms of a gay ; round; aurwuslY. to sleep in one of deee loda'in' houses, ! Not unless °eon can count Horace S It t " de Ina r n^' stye Do inn with a la'ht 1'iu'h uppodn a fire WINTER SMILES. Professor -"The ancients used palms as an emblem of capture and victory." Smart student -"I suppose that's why the moderns use. them so extensively t a weddings." 'Been married seven times, has he? Is e ?' "Oh ma f leisure other ens no1He no "What no! He's a hardworking tailor." � a remarkable instance of the survival of the fittist." Didn't I say it would 'probably pour down in pints and quarts' and barrel's before night? It has done so, and 1 haven't a dry thread on me !" "Then don't lose a minute in getting into dry clothes," "Never mind the dry clothes! Ishall probably have the pneumonia and die, but that will be what you are looking for 1 It might have occurred to some wives, when they saw their dear hus- band going away without; an umbrella, to--" " Why, you took your umbrella along l" she interrupted. "'Never I" "Of centro you did! Don't you re- member dropping It at the door? You walked right out of the, office and left it there." " I did c1.1 Why don't you call me :FE SRDAII"i 7, YRS(i In tela to see him pull the waist groin under ,the dresser, "Then „ r t 'ebbe, 1 !lien ou were net robbed she tarty observed, o "el -no• -nal quite; not this :line. But. lot this he a great moral lesson to Yea, Mrs" Bowser -never to meddle with MY wallet 1 That!e sethatlaing ne husband will put up with," "I never touched Your old wend!" "And see that you never del And don't talk back, mere, 'Bowser, You bavo hada very narrow mane, and you .ought to be thankful for it--ves'y thankful. Some husbands would have raised it row; but I thunk you under- stand me, and I think the lesson will not be lost on you.'. TO ASIA AND RACK ON AN (P11. FLOE. Two 'ronng In,linn8 nrlfc Twice Across leaning son, Nearly 1,00e Miles. From a gentleman who recently arriv- ed !n Juneau from the far north we learn an almost inerodible tale of out- fering and endurance experienced by. two Indian boys several years ago while out sealing. Our relator had been to Siberia on the revenue cutter Bear and had returned to Alaska with a cargo of reindeer. They were deposited' at tee Teller reindeer station, where he also went ashore. Herea sledge and tee'ni of doges were hired and a journey over- land to Point Barrow was 'begun, At the latter point the ice was found to be glare and perfectly solid, so he cob - tinned bis journey across Behring Straits as far as the Big Ddomed Island, This island is the home of quite a large . tribe of Indians, whose subsistence is derived almost entirely from the sea. During the winter season they frequent- ly travel many miles from home in their sealing expeditions,. but never - except when the wind is from the north, Should the wind shift its direction the, ace is quite liable to break up in huge Coes tobe carried here and there by every currant it strikes until its final disintegration is eomolete. In the time that was spent on Diem - ed Island two young Indians went out sealing, and before any seals were seen they had travelled over ten miles from their home. In the mean time the ice, which had been in a rotten condition for severei days, broke Into several huge fields, and when the Indians came to a realization of their position they were drifting out into Behring Sea's broad expanse with the land slowly fading from view. On the first, second, cn third days nothing occurred to vary monotony. Their little snack of grub had disappeared and starvation seemed to stare them in the face. On the morn- ing of the fourth day a walrus climbed upon an end of the floe ssverel hundred feet distant from where the boys had spent the night. Geeing the liege, clumsy brute pull himself on the Ise for a sleep, they watched him with an eagerness made all the more keen from the fact that it meant LIFE 011 DEATH a first-eiass idiot and be done with it I "You must have done so, for you surely carried it away with you." That's exactly what he did do, and he knew he did, but lie squirmed out of it by offering to bet her a million dollars to a cent that the front door bad been left wide openall the after- noon, and that a hall thief had carried off half the stuff down stair's. One morning there was a smell of gasdown cellar, and Mr. Bowser went down to see if he could discover a leak. He put on an old hat kept for "poking around," and when he left the house he wore it away. It was rusty and spotted and broken, and it was only hen the boy's dawn town began to "shoot that hat" that he tumbled to it. Than he flew back with his eyes hanging out and his face of a plum color, and he was no sooner inside the door than he shouted: Look at it, Mrs. Bowser -look at that infernal old junkshop which you deliberately sew me wear away on my head and never said a word about it I "Aid you wear that hat down -town ?" "Did l I Did I !" he shouted, as ho banged it on the floor and jumped on it. I was ' But I didn't sea you p. "B 1r Bo u�p-stairs when you left, S.ou are very absent-minded." ded." "I am, eh? It's a wonder I don't forget to come home, isn't it ? Mrs. Bowser, if there's another house in the United States as badly mismanaged as this, I'd like to see its" But you can't blame me because you wore your old hat away I" she protested. "That's it -that's it! Shoulder it off on talk about the mel The a Drs a papers startling number of divorces. It's a wonder to me there' are not five times as many!" One day Mr. Bowser brought home a patent corkscrew which some fakir had sold him, and itlrs. Bowser saw him drop it into a wale-peoket. A week week later, aftei wandering aroundthe house for half an hour one evening, he balled before her and said: "I'11 be hanged if I don't get some chains and padlocks and see if I can't es r have thin where I left them 1" i "What is t now?" "I brought home a can -opener a few days ago and left it on a bracket in the dining -room. It's gone, of course -probably given away to some big, lazy tramp l It's a wonder we have a thing left in the house!" "A can' -opener ?" "Yee, a can -opener. If you never heard of a can -opener, I'll hire someone to write you out a history, of it. It was invented to open cans.. "Why, eve have two or three in the kitchen. Do you mean a can -opener?" I don't mean windmills or thresh- ing -machines." You had it in a pink paper?" "Yes, ma'am." "It was the day the man axed the furnace?" "It was." "We11,1 saw you drop it in that wall -pocket, and it is a corkscrew and not a can -opener." It is, eb? Perhaps I don't know a hitching post from the oily hall," he growled as he reached for the parcel and unrolled it. It was a corkscrew. It was made and sold for a corkscrew. "Didn't I tell you?" queried Mrs. Bowser. "Tell me what? Told me it was a corkscrew, and it's a can -opener, just as I said 11 was I" 'Its a corkscrew 1" "It's a can -opener 1" 'And as long as Mr. Bowser draws the breath of life he will stick to it, be- cause, he said so in the first place, Like other husbands, Mr. Bowser is greatly worried over the safety of his wallet while around the house. He has an idea that Mrs. Bowser would give ton years of her life to get that wallet in her bends for about two minutes, and that she hies awake a good abate of overt' night in the year wondering whore be hid it when he wont to bed, IIe makes it a religious duty to conceal it every night and to count over his funds the first thing in the morning. Ono morning, strange as it may seem, he leftthe house without taking his wallet, which he had bidden the night before. under the bureau. IIe had been lone about an hour when there eves a great clatter ou the front steps, the. door flow open and he rushed into the back parlor and stood before Mrs. Bowser, Horse Gyp-"Are,you satisfied that the team I sold you as well matched?" Victim. -"Yes, they're well matched. One Ls willing to work, and the other is satisfied to let. him." "We have no use for bear stories," said the editor. "Our readers demand something spicy." "Well," said the man' with the manuscript, "Ibis story is about a cinnamon bear." Softleigh-"The Widow Passe pro- posed to me last night." Sappehead- Reallyl What did you say?" Sof 1- lelgh-"Told her I'd be a son to her. You see, her daughter got there first." "Isn't that Miss Smedley ? I thought she was sick. Somebody told nee ]Jr. Pankey had given her up." "Well, he didsort o' give her up, but not till atter he had tried five or sir years to get her." Hoax -"Tho building committee has just met, and we're going to have a new story at our club." Joax-"Good.! I've worked the old club stories so much my 'Wife don't believe them any more." Alas, 'tis eighteen ninety-six And bashful man must falter; For woman now with clever tricks. Will speed him to the altar. ":These women chefs," sighedthe sup- erannuated caterer, pushing the plate awe from him, "ought to stick to politzcs and business and let man's work alone. They cant nook worth a derv." Yeast --"I wish this restaurant fel- low would print his bill of faro in En- glish, soa follow could tell what he is eating." Crimsonbeak-"Good gracious! Do yea want the fellow to lose all Ids trance" "0, dear," sighed Mrs. Cumso as she tossed 'about in had "I'msuffering dreadfully from insomnia," "Go to sleep and you'll be all right," growled Mr. Cnmso es he rolled over and began to snore again. She ((rasing at the dying embers) - "That lire reminds mo of a man in love. It burns brightly at firs!:, then gradual- ly subsides and nothing. remains but ashes." Ilse -"And yet it will be all right if you fend it regularly." rst Tramp -"It makes me nervous wiz o tea on in night? Second Tramp- Dats ao. Dem "lIutiv nn earth] dill that corns here? •u hose o }Stooping, he., too, examines mhrute].y Mie pi, turn a n you in a fragile. piece of .lace ,and cambric his meet is still bolding. Sartoris turning 1 "'Dear me, .Adeibcrtl" said the poet's it again, the initials in the earner make, wife, 1 1 stuff daasut malts aenso. I ' I hemselves known and stand out: log- ]encu that' as well as you do," said the Dorian's faro changes. He knows the It is to Make dollars, It was ordered handkorchieL only; too well now. Ile by a' magazine." himself had given ie to Ruth at Christ- I "Teeter," sail! Mrs. CornLo se1, "what ' masts; lbut how had it wine here? No Is di.plomaey,r env way ?"'"W -a -a-1," ane had entered the room to -day except was the reply, "di1rlomaey, ea fur ez I've 1 I ble Ler tnnite head. or tail of One and carefully worked,' as "R. A," pool.. "It isn't intended to make.sense. and (doubtless) gallant plunger, himself and Horace been a it, The next instant she is gone; but , Notwithstanding the 501110 with Ruth' consists principally in lsttin' on that ye he follows her slight form with eager the night befoec, when she had so rune' never did went what ye can't have." She was so upset that she could only faintly. gasp: "Mr. :Bowser, •is mother dead?" "blether doadl he yelled in reply, "what do I know about your mother 1 Mrs, Bowser, I've been robbed!" "Nol" 'And in my own house at that! Some time during the night some one got -out of bed and stole my wallet I" "Impossible1 Was it in your coat?" "Well, no -not exactly. For fear of burglars I--" , You what?"' she asked as he hose- fated and looked confused, , Ile rushed upstairs, and she followed to them. Their sufferings from thirst had already swollen their tongues 'so greatly as to render speech difficult. After having surveyed the field to his satisfaction the walrus lay down and was soon soundly sleeping. With steal- thy steps the Indians now approached, and, the wind being in their). favor, they succeeded hi killing the animal before he off the ice.. scramble er `waken andt could. a They first gorged themselves with the blood, it being the first article of drink they had had in nearly four (lays. Dur- ing all the time they were on the floe they subsisted entirely upon this wal- r On the fifth day they saw land again, and upon approaching closer to it it pro- ved to be Nunivak Island. 100 miles south of where thev started from. They drifted to with e1 in a few miles of shore of rescue when they were certain came in the path of other winds and their direction was changed to a west- erly one. Slowly the land passed out of sight, and when next it was seen they had drifted and been blown entirely across Behring Sea and wore nearing the coast of Siberia. To this shore liue they approached within aoout the same distance as they did at Nunivak Island, but again contrary winds were encoun- taredand they started d east again.a}n. Their eir � a meat by b this time was almost exhausted. and they had for days suffered inde- scribably from thirst. They never know how many days it took in crossing Behring Sea the second time, as before they were rescued they had become delirious, end death would would have been *welcome. A friendly breeze finally blew their ice cake, now greatly reduced in size, ashore at the mouth of the Kuskoquim, landing it so gently on the sand bars that the hugger mass never broke. When the tide ppass- ed out they were taken ashore by.a half-breed trader who has a store en that vicinity and were cared for until restored to health, and then were sent back to their homes. They floated about on the ice exactly three weeks, during which time they travelled near- ly '2,000 miles. 1 HEALT E EXPERIMENTS. The Resell er ramie It hat arnve 11..514Trlo,i In From,. Among i the solders under the milit- aryn government of Paris there were 824 typhoid cases in 1888. The, following year the number increased to 7.,170: At that time the water of the Vamae was substituted for the contaminated Seine water. The cases the next tour years numbered respectively only, 209, 27U, 293, and 208. Lust year the Venue ieee1C be- came contaminated through an accident the history of which has been traced ecn- elusively. The result was au increase of typhoid cases in the Paris garrison to 480, of which 310 occurred in the three months of February, March and April. During January and February of the prsesesentin yearall, (1805) there were only eight ca The fact, that typhoid fever comes and goes with impure drinking water could hardly receive a more striking demon- stration. Yet the possibility has been realized in the experience of Melun, a garrison town of about 12,000 inhabi- tants, situated on the Seine, twenty- it eight miles above Paris. here, in 1880, there were 122 00.555 of typhoid fever among the soldiers, The Chamberlain filters ((Pasteur :system) warn then in- troducecl, and tlau oases of the following years numbered, resew:lively, ftfteen,six Iwo, seven and seven again for 1.804. Sud- denly, (luring.the eevere.weather of Feb- ruary of list year„ twenty}eight' dra- goons, one after the other, came dowie.,. wi111 the fever. The infantry battalion, living in, the same barracks, bad not a single case. The swot 'leas soon out. The filters had been allowed to freeze, and the. solcdiers were ordered to chink only the: weak infusion of tea furnished them, til which, of conrs0, the water was boiled. The dragoons had simply not obeyed but had helped themselves to the Seine water from the hydrants,