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The Exeter Advocate, 1891-11-12, Page 611.0.W.WAY*Pr.“.M.SvAlikapeCIS Toe Ileaisliewe Choke. (George Herten, in Chicago BoraAd.) Two youthe.oace llyed in emietry Owe, And ono wee a giant fair, With, a Saxon saking's golden crown, - And a blaokeesitlits Wholes seauoth and brown, When lie maeo his right aim bath, , The other youth was et dapper Size; So slembseand. ehort was he . That b Mune small favor in maideeeeyes, And. the glee r, hoestee. in merry , wise ceual, lay him across my keee.! These twain both courted the village belle, But short was the rime they run ; .At the giant's feet the maiden fell, And the little man, though he pleacled well, Naught loose them her pity won, They marched away to the wars one day, lh haste Mr the battla's van, And the people cheered when the giant gay Strode stoutly past for the distant fray, And they smiled at the little man. But the earliest ball by a Monsen sped— One drop from the war -black skies— Passed safely over the pigmy's head And the giant, who stood. behind, fell dead With a bullet between his eyes. Then the lits,le man swore, though his sight was dim, And he betuuled ahead of them all, And the Whole great army followed. him P111 he leapt like a devil lithe and slini First man o'er the battery wall. And. lie planted the flag, of his country there While the routed. enemy ran, And the legiuus roared as it floated fair Oe the dusky waves ot sulphurousair, "Three cheers Mr the little man !" 011,1 do not know, and I cannot say What the giant might have done, But len sure the maiden will weep alwaY For hor lover shot in the first of the fray, And dead ere his fame was won. For war is a field ot chime, you snow, Let him dodge the bullets who can. But love is a garden whore fancies ilow, And the form of a giant makes larger show Than the soul of a little man! MISS HELEN'S LOURS. CHAPTER I. "If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it." s You Like Upon the =carpeted floor of a shabbily. furnished bedroom stood a small open trunk, before which knelt a girl who was engaged in packing her few possessions within its narrow dbnensions. This task she perfornied with ostentatious indifference, as though she realized their worthlessness and what sheer waste of time it would be were she to wrap cotton gowns and shady hats in tissue paper, or to expend thought or ingenuity on the arrangement of so scanty a wardrobe. Though the room in which she knelt was uncarpeted and not ornamental, it was large, airy and cheerful. The broad window, through which the summer sanshine streamed, was wide open, and round its easement a Gloire de Dijon rose, in full bloom, trailed its notehed leaves and sweet blossoms. Outside in the garden a linnet was singing; and the air smelled of mignon- ette and heliotrope. All the time the girl was peeking she ang to herself in a light-hearted, nonchalant way, which spoke well for the unshadowed gayety of her mind. These were the words she sang: " &man who would woo a fair maid, Should 'prentice himself to the trade, And study all day. in methodical way, Stow to flatter, cajole, and persuade. le is purely -a matter of skill. Which all may attain it they will, But every Tack he should study the knack If he wants to make sure of his 4111" Very soon the trunk was filled and her work done. Then she rose slowly to her feet, and. going over to the window she leaned out, still singing— "Then a glance may be timid or free, St may vary in mighty degree, From an impudent stare To a look of despair, Which no maid without pity can see. And a glance of despair is no guide, It neer have its ridiculous side, It may draw you a tear, Or a box on the ear, You can never be sure till you've tried." She was a tall girl, and she made the most of her height, for she held her head high and moved with much stately dignity when she was in the humor to be grand. There was a distinguished air about her which was more remarkable than her beauty, though that, too, was by no means inconsiderable. Her father was rector of Meriton, a vil- lage in the Midlands. The living was a poor one, and the rector's private income was very small; the girl Helen, his only child, had been reared in poverty from her cradle. The beautiful things of life which she loved had been denied her; but with admiring parents, pleasant friends, plenty of genial society, a home which she con- sidered perfeation, and in which she reigned as absolute monarch, sho had found nothing to desire. Iler temper was impe- rious and quick, bat where everything was arranged with a view to her pleasure she f ound little to try it, and had danced through her twenty-one years of life, re- joicing on her way, as happy as a kitten and as light of heart as a child. Her first trial had come, "not with womanhood," but with her father's first bachelor curate, who had fallen promptly and desperately in love with her. Her gray eyes were beautiful but cold ; laughter, not love, was to be found in them ; she really had no patience with the young man's folly. He was a quiet, un- assuming person, and Mrs. Mitford had vainly tried to persuade her impervious daughter to recognize and appreciate his commendable qualities. For some time Helen had refused to treat this serious matter seriously. She had continued to walk with the gentleman, to sing to him, to play golf and tennis with him, to make up his mind for him on all subjects, recklessly disregarding conse- quences. "Oh, it is only fancy, mother," she had said, when Mrs. Milford remonstrated. "If I don't take any notice of it, it will blow over." 4' Will it ?" her mother groaned, shaking her head. "1 hope it may, but these things sometimes blow into flame instead of blow- ing over." Mrs. Mitford was right. ' Driven to desperation by the girl's behavior, her lover had refused to be silenced, and for once to far asserted himself as to demand an inter- view with her father, and an explanation with herself. For many days, by a thousand ruses, she had managed to postpone it, but it came at last. The interview had been solornn, and the explanation so passionate and prolonged that Helen had been frightened and agitated into angry resentment. She had been most disagreeable and repellant, and he, stung by her coldness, had reproached her with vehemence. Ti had been very dreadful, and she had felt extremely ashamed of herself. Upon the following morning, by what Helen welcomed as a lucky turn of For- tune's wheel, she had received an invitation to pay Mr, Mitford's maiden Aster a visit, at a village On the North Devonshire coast. Such an invitation had been proffered yearly, hitherto Helen had expressed no with to accept it, bu e now she had changed, her mind. As soon as she had finished rep,ding her aunt's letter, she tossed it across the breek- fast-lable to her mother, saying Here Is Aunt Elizabeth's annual invi- tation, mother ; will you read it ? She isilliee.h 4,1d ehaer iiew paineda—Itiielorseeal lyaremituf Jonea'—are going te give a ball this mouth she says Mrs.. Magoribanks would take m thiuk•am sure, I should like to go. Mrs- Mieiord, who had iloyer arranged plan in her life, but who had, with peacefu success, allewed, herself to be guided b any who cared to ex-ert themselves think for her, obediently perueed bit letter, Helen and her mother possessed dispos tions directly antithetical each to the othe but in oominon they owned one trait—eae adored the other with that open, perfec self-sacrificing, blind love which Boerne ou of fashion nowadays between mother an daughter, but which creates an otherwis unattainable ha,ppiness ia home life. When she had finished readbag her sister in-law's letter, she laid it down by the sid of her coffee cup and looked up, rather wist fully, at Helen. " Did you say that you would like to: g to Devonshire, dear ?" 1` Yes, mother, You see, Aunt Elizabeti says she will pay my journey, so there i really no reason why I should not go." "Certainly not, dear. You shall do a you wish. Henry "—addressing the recto •—" Henry, Ffalen is going down to Noel combo to stay with Elizabeth." The rector was reading the Morning Post He lowered it, and looked rather absently at his wife. I am very glad to hear it," he said. " The sea is delightful at this time of year, and Elizabeth's carnations will be in full bloom. I shall be curious to hear whether the primrose variety has deterioratod; don't forget to let me know, Helen." "I shall start the day after to -morrow, mother," she presently announced, having assured herself that such was her feasible desire, "for I really must get away from Mr. Flight. Now, don't look severe. It is for his own sake I am going—partly, you know. I am sure he will be glad when I am gone though he mayn't think so just at first. this place I meet him at every corner; and on Sunday, when he preaches about the sorrows of life, he looks at me, and it is so horrid." "My dear, my dear, you must not be heartless. Poor Mr. Flight !" "That's just what he is, mother—he is poor. I don't mean penniless, you know, Decease he is pretty well of ofi. I mean poor -spirited; he has no pride. Pshaw ! Think of wishing to marry a person who doesu't like you! Think of not only wish- ing ie, but talking about the wish !" There was a fine scorn in her voice. "It is con- temptible, insufferable, despicable!" Mrs. Mitford never excited herself to argue—seldom to give an opinion—but now she spoke with decision. 'Mr. Flight is a nice young man, Helen —quite nice. You should have believed me ; 1 warned you. I have such experience and foresight AS you will some day acquire, no doubt, though yea are long about it. In this quiet place, where there is little to dis- tract a gentleman, I do not see how he could well have avoided falling in love with you." The disdain of Helen's face per- plexed her mother. "it is no offence on his part ; it is the greatest compliment he could pay you, dear. You have no right to despise him for it." But mother, he is so ridiculous or so tiresome. I laugh or I get angry—I can't help it." Mrs. Mitford sighed. "My clear," she said, "you will be an old amid, and when it is too late you will be sorry." No girl likes that dismal epithet, "an old maid, ' applied to her, even in joke. Mrs. Mitforcl was in earnest, and Helen grew grave. "1 shall marry," she said, "some day— not too soon. 1 love pretty clothes and pretty things about me, and therefore I love the money that buys them, and therefore I shan't marry a poor man. When I fall in love" --with distinct disrelish of the pros- pect—" I shall take care to fix on a rich man—a Crcesus—so as to combine prudence with passion, mother, and make ' a good. match.' Mrs. Mitford nodded. ' "Well, my dear, if you. do it will be very wise of you. When I was young, girls were not so prudent as they are at present. When your father suggested our marriage, I agreed without casting a thought to his income. I was never a practical woman, 1—" "No," broke' in the rector, startling his wife and daughter, in whose conversation he never joined until his paper had been read from end to end: "thank my stars, you were not a practical yeoman, Honore. You were a tender-hearted, sweet girl, such as I should like to see that silly girl there, who thinks her airs and graces very smart at present, but who will find them poor and cold company before long, let rile tell you. Don't pride yourself on your obduracy, Nell. .A yielding disposition is a charming and womanly attribute." "Father, that's a dull paper," said his daughter, smiling rather deprecatingly, "or you would not put it down to scold me • if I am made of brick instead of gutta-percha, it isn't my fault. It is all Mr. Flight's fault for finding it out. I owe him, ten thousand grudges. I shall have to say yes,' that is the only effectual way I know of paying him out" "Do not worry yourself about her, Henry," said his wife with a calm and superior smile, "when the right man comes she will be, like the rest of her sisterhood, only too ready to leave her home and her people." "Then I hope the right man will be rich," said the girl, making a grimace, "excessively and abnormally rich, for I shall want a. very big bribe to console me for lea,ving home." Helen looked down upon her trunk and in her heart of hearts she thought, " Some day I will have a box such as porters trem- ble to see ; its size shall be gigantic, and it shell be full to overflowing, for I will marry a rich man who will fill it for me from his coffers !" But the mercenary intentions of this young woman did riot interfere with thesweet lilting of her gong, she was still singing— "11 is purely a matter of skill, Which all may attain if they will, But every' Jack he should study thelFnack If ho wants to make sure of his jill.' when the door opened, and with slow stately step and Mild face, tined with an unusual anxiety, her mother entered the room. She looked at Helen with some trepidation ; she was conscious of being elle bearer of an unwelcome message. She was not in the least bit atraid of her impetuous daughter's anger, but she was afraid of causing any living soul one pang, nay, one prick even, of unnecessary pain. Helen could read her mother's face perfectly ; she saw at once that there was something the matter. She otopped singing and began to question her. , "Mother," she said, " you have forgotten to order the fly again, I know you have, and now you have come to break the news to me and be forgiven." "Nay, Helen, the fly will be here in an hour's time. I Ordered it at two o'clock." "Then what is the matter ? Your face is Pee as long as a sermon." " There is nothing the matter ; but I have brought you a message. Poor Mr. , m Flight—" Helen stamped her foot upon the ground. is Poor Ala Flights" she broke out, wi ts a world of emphasis upon the adjective. til won't hear his natio, mother ; 1 shall p ; my fingers iu my ears and run down in e. the geaden if you mention him again " will, indeed." a " Thet 18 kid. Where I wish you to ru I my dear. The poor man. is in the kitch y garden, and I have promised him that y to shall go to him just to bid him good-bye e An angry color, red as the rose at h bosom, suffused the girl's fair cheeks ; is went her little head in the air, her lips r, curved superciliously, 11 " Helen, dear, don't be disagreeable," t, her mother went on, soothingly, " you t don't know what suffering such feelings e d tii, and the ignorance does not redound e any way to your credit. Renaember wh your father told you at breakfast the oth - morntng. Don't be hard and don't psi e yourself on your obduracy." Mother"—solemnly—" if ever I am s unfortunate as to fall in love, I hope an o pray, no, more, I swear, that no one sha kuow it. I shall have sufficient self-respec to keep my feelings to myself and not tra 8 them through dust and mire, so that an one who cares to glance my way can se s them." ✓ When you feel as other women fool yo - will do as women do, Nellie.' Now, dear don't keep poor Mr. Flight waiting. I isn't probable that you will ever see his again after to -day. He only asked leave t speak to you for one moment, and 1 coal not refuse him such a small request. Yo have caused him it great deal of pain hitherto. Why not wish him good.b kindly? Soothe his wounded vanity by few gfacious words, they can do you n harm. "Oh, mother, you are as soft as the dove but not so wise as the serpent," said th girl, shaking her head and laughing. " will be juse as unpleasant for him, no matter -how nicely I put it. It's a nasty dangerous order of yours; if I am different he won't understand, and I shall have the whole business to go through again. Then I shall miss my train—to say nothing of losing my temper." " You are heartless and unfeeling, Helen," said Mrs. Mitford, severely. "1 am sure you don't inherit those faults from either your father or myself. Henry was it sus- ceptible young man, and he was, by no means, my first lover." • "Then why do you want Inc to marry my first lover'mother? You didn't, and it's such a poor -spirited, mean sort of thing th ut to 0, en oe er up 11 - in at er de I must the more, much more of him and o that then it will be all right. Oh, miler, d why we're you so foolish as to make me 11 meet him again ?—why didn't you bitw ell t alone? Bother! I have dropped that il lovely red rose, and of course he picked it y up. Before a week is over he will have per - e suaded himself that I gave 18 to him—I kuomehiin so well." u A railway journey was an infliction under , such circumstances. How high she held t her head, how closely her lips closed, how n very stately her bearing throughout the o ordeal! Woe to the porter who hustled d her along !--woe to the loquacious corn - o mercial traveler who addressed her familiarly ! To navvies, market-women— y however big their baskets or however a troubksome their children—and such folk o she was sweet and gracious ; from the other classes of society she held herself aloof. , "There are a great inany people travel - e ing to -day, Helen," Mrs. Mitford remarked, t coining up to the carriage window at the last moment. " The station master says , the train is overcrowded ; there are the races at — to morrow. If I had known it before, you should have waited until the end of the week. Good -by, dear. Don't forget your change at Exeter. Your purse _is ginoodyo.buy, your bag. Write to -night. Good -by With mighty puffs and hissing pants the train moved slowly out of the hot station, and Miss Mitford's penance began. How bitter that penance would prove, she was fortunately unconscious, but even the start was sufficiently distasteful. Nine different persons lolling in nine different attitudes overfilled the narrow car- riage upon which a July sun streamed from a cloudless sky; the atmosphere therein was hot svitla a heavy, fiery heat, which was insufferable. Through the open window a stifling wind wafted showers of dust, sand and blacks that powdered the faces and Then Helen, much relieved at the thought of the apnre'eching parting, and prompted by the memory ot her mother's suggestion em , looked up with a ile into her loyer's gloomy eyes and laid her cool, slender hand in his. Good -by," she said, with a sudden access of cordial friendliness in her clear voice; "good -by, Mr. Flight. I am go sorry have been such a nuisance to you, but if it hadn't been me it would have been some one else, probably." And so saying, she wrenched her hand from his hoist, and, turning her back upon him, she rapidly disappeared down the gravel path aad entered the house. " Mother," she said with a rueful smile, when that lady accosted her at the garden door, "1 have done as you wished. 'I have been so kind to Mr. Flight that he is com- ing down to Noekombe to see me. He says "Don't dawdle in this way, Helen; the delay tries poor Mr. Flight and does you no good. Go down, go down now, you will find him between the raspberries and the Jerusalem artichokes." CHAPTER H. clothes of the travelers. 4' It was too hot for Helen to read or doze Experience does take dreadfully highschool or watch the dazzling 1' landscape reeling' But he tfitChes like no other. past ; her companions were not of prepos- caeme. Bening appearance, but from beneath the The rectory kitchen garden was untidy— shadow of her broadbrimmed hat she in - not hopelessly untidy, but somewhat vestigated them. Beside her sat a lean neglected. Poor people's gardens are sol- man, whose garb proclaimed him a dissent- dom in apple-pie order. Perhaps that is the ing minister, and whose fixed and benignant reason why poor people's flowers flourish smile declared him to be impervious alike more luxuriantly than their better -tended to the discomforts of the weather and to the brethren which are reared under the care of inferiority of his fellows. A smart young pruning, raking, professional gardeners. woman itt a green beige gown, and Let -alone flowers, like let -alone children are wearing a large cotton -velvet hat, from so much more true to nature—to the divine which long feathers, dank and curliess from hand whence they came than are the trained the heat, trailed spiritlessly, sat in the and cultivated specimens. corner, opposite Helen. She held Modern. Up and down a moss -grown gravel path, Society, that paper dear to the servants' which intersected it row of ragged raspberry hall, in her soiled, gloveless hands; but she bushes on the one hand and a waving sea of was not reading, she was half -asleep; now artichoke sticks upon the other, a young and again she opened her eyes and glanced man paced hurriedly. His handsome with a swift, keen glance at Miss Mitford. features were glum, and gloomy of -express- Beyond this girl a spruce man, very neat ion; his mouth was weak andeasmaland trim, leaned languidly against the un - He hung his head and gazed upon the yielding cushions at his back in an attitude ground. which was probably an exact imitation of his This was poor Mr. Flight, toward whom master's- He was a servant, Helen decided at this moment Miss Helen Mitford was —agentleman's g entleman—a valet 'The slowly wending her way. Her heart beat remainder of the company belonged to that unusually quickly as she approached; but, unattractive portion of humanity, the third - alas for him. ! it beat with an embarrassed class racing man, whose personal appearance, anger—not for love. She was indignant at, let us charitably conclude, is the worst part and intolerant of, her lover's obstinate and of him, for the task of finding a step balks importunate affection, and yet she schooled the imagination. herself to • patience. She would remember The intense heat was so enervating, the her parents' remarks, and endeavor to treat glare was so intolerable, that Helen soon this distasteful passion with leniency, if not lay back in her corner of the carriage and, respect. covering her aching eyes with her hand, When he heard her step he turned to abandoned herself to a don't -care lassitude, meet her, holding out his hands. She halted which took interest in no one or nothing. ;abruptly when he did so, put her hands be The train by which she was travelling was hind her, standing in an attitude Amnia. express; it would stop only at —, where takably on the defensive. She looked very the races were to be held, and at Exeter, at cold, very unapproachable, and not at all a which place she had to change both train young lady whom it would be easy to and platform. Helen was usually' an coerce; but withal she looked so beautiful anxious travelkr, but that day she was that poor Mr. Flight grew desperate. conscious only of the melting atmosphere "Helen," he cried, "Helen, you did not and her own smarting eyelids and many mean what you said? You could not be so discomforts. cruel. You will not wantonly break my Once or twice Helen uncovered her eyes heart? You have come to tell me that you to draw out her watch, but, atter glancing have changecl your mind ?" at it, with an impatient sigh she replaced it "1 never change my mind—at least, not in her belt, depressed at finding how slowly without a reason. I came because my the lagging time crept past This watch of mother said she had promised you that I hers was a cherished possession ; on her should come." 20th birthday it had been given her by a Neither her fa,ce nor her words were en. rich and favorite uncle, and it was the only couraging, and he knew it. piece of valuable jewelry she owned. It was "Never—never change ! There is no an enameled hunter, f small and of exquisite such a word as 'raver' to me," he told her, workmanship; her initials, H.- M., were mournfully. "1 shall continue to hope—I traced in diamonds upon the case. The cannot give up hope. You are not heart- eyes, both of the spruce man and the twadry less. I know you are not. I shall wait. I young woman, were caught by the glitter of will not despair. Why should I ? For you the brilliants, and each looked with some know that winter does not last forever. If renewed curiosity at its owner. I wait spring will come." The dust the glare the intolerable heat, She did not follow his meaning; she became each moment more unendurable; it looked puzzled, and did not speak. Silence was a vast relief to leave the dazzling sun - on her part was unusual, and he thought it shine and rush, though only for three min - augured well for him. utes, into a dark 8,ud comparatively cool "1 am in no hurry, Helen. I will be tunnel. Helen's eyes were still shielded by patient—I can hope on. You have only her hand, and she was leaning back in her lcnown me six months; I was foolish to corner. expect too much. You shall see more of "Allow me to pull up the window, Miss," me, much more, and then, perhaps, you said the lean man, getting up as he spoke rnay grow to like me. Don't shake your to fulfill his suggestion, "for the smoke is I Ttead. What is it that you dislike in ine ? something hawful." ell me what pleases you, and I will en- "Thank you," said she, shrinking as far deavor--" as ,possible from the speaker. "Oh, don't," she interrupted ; "don't ' It is a warm day," the smart young ay all those things over again—it is of no lady opposite remarked, mincingly. u d rise. I have told you so a dozen times. I " I call it 'ot," said the dissenting min- on't dislike you. Why should I ?'«ister, still busy with the window. "11 you don't dislike me, why not like "Von have knocked the temper out of my le ?" hand, sir," remonstrated the smart young "1 tell you that I do like you"—impa- lady, with indignation. "1 should be ienely. obliged if you would be a little more "Then marry me." careful." "Helen, look here. You don't dislike me—you mean to be married some day. I ' ave got a fair income a good temper. I eve you dearly, and Iwill give you your we, way in everything." She stamped her foot . on the ground and aid: "Good-bye, Mr. Flight. I start at two. cannot wait here another instant." "Helen, listen it moment. shall not ive up hope. I shall come again. I shal (3 patient. You will not be so cruel as t fuse me hope—it is such a little thing to sk. Helen, your father wishes me th leave is place, to go forever. I shall go but I all follow you to Noelcombe. "I shall me to see you, I must see you again. I n not bear to be away from you. May I me ?—will you speak to me ?" " Noeleombe doesn't belong to inc." said "No offence ; if 1 knocked it down I'll pick it up. No damage done and no time wasted, for you can't see to read in the bright as childhood's dreain dark.' Either. cious ; Efelen was alarmed lest the differ tricyele or buggy this morning Laura etice might lead to it quarrel ; gaols a guar - Hot as ow She—Either, George. I'm yours for wheel rel would be most unpleasant, had been before she grew still hotter at or for whoa; this prospect. ut her fears were ground- ble that the man with whom she was. nosy alone would piove either it drunkard, or it luuatic, or, at the best, is hypnotist. She surveyed him furtively from beneath her laehee ;bo did not look very dangerous, arid as he soon moved to the corner of the compartment most distant from her, put his feat on the opposite seat, took off his hat and opened a thin pinkieb. paper, in the perusal of which he was speedily engrossed, she gradually com- posed her nerves. Indeed he was so motionless, he yawned so sanely, and was altogether such a re- assuring companion that, she shortly forgot both her fears and his presence, and with her head bolstered against the uneasy cushion behind her, with her chin uptilted, with her weary body swaying at each motion of the carriag,e, she was rocked by degrees into a deep, dreamless slumber. The sun poured on her pale face from which the heat had sucked all vestige of color, her long lashes swept the delicate curve of her cheeks, her sliro hands, ringless bare and very white, lay clasped upon her 'lap. Once or twice the man lowered the pink- ish paper to his Is LICO, and turned his shrewd eyes inquisitively upon her. He was a discriminating and observant .person, and he was puzzled how to allot this "sleeping beauty" her right place in the social scale. She was too spirited and self-reliant for a governess, and she was too poorly clad to be a genuine West -ender travelling thus humbly by way of novelty, and yet his educated eyes reeognized her as a lady bred and born. The express had entered among the wooded vales 8,nd gentle hills of South Dev- onshire, before Helen, with a sudden start, awoke. A piercing whistle had roused her. She sat upright, set her hat straight, passed her hands carefully over her ruffled hair, adjusted her collar and cuffs, and yawned. Her unobtrusive companion was still read- ing his paper, and did not look up. The fiery sun still streamed down on the melting country, the burning air was stifling, clouds of fine dust floated in. the track of the train. Wondering how long a space of time she had cheated from this purgatory in sleep, Helen put her hot hand down to her belt and felt for her watch. It was not there Dangling from a button of her bodice hung her short watch chain, but though the swivel of the chain was unbroken, the watch was no longer attached to it • while she had slept it had, it must have become, unfastened. It was the first time such an accident had happened. Startled at this discovery she began to search hurriedly, with eager finger, behind her waist belt for the missing treasure, but she searched in vain. No watch was there. Then as a last hope, she unbuckled her belt; 'took it off, shook it violently, as though she fancied that the watch might, by a superb conjuring trick, have been con- cealed in the leather, and cried, La it tragic voice of despair-- " It has gone V' Meanwhile,. unobservedby thepreoccupied girl, the train had stopped, the whistle which had awakened her, had heralded the vicinity of Exeter. Cries of "Tickets ready" were now to be heard approaching; but Helen heard nothing. "Have you lost anything, ma'am?" the shrewd -faced man inquired, with respectful interest "My watch," she answered breathlessly. "I looked at it just now—I had it in the carriage here—it has gone!" Rising to her feet she shook her serge skirt. She stooped to look under the seats, she minutely examined the cracks of the dust -strewed, dirty floor, she peered into possible and impossible places, but she did. not find her watch. Her companion assisted in the search. As they were thus engaged, the door was opened, and a porter, hot, and consequently cross, demanded " TiCkets " gruffly. Helen's little travelling -bag lay on the seat, she took it up—it was already open— and looked into it. It was empty, her purse had gone! In stunned amazement she stared, speechless, at the ticket col- lector. "Look sharp, Miss," he said, imperiously, to this dwadling third-class passenger, who seemed to consider his time of no more value than her own. Neither his tone nor her discovery tended to soothe Miss Mit- ford's feelings. The purse containing her ticket was gone, she had placed in her bag, which she had carefully shut. The bag was wide open now and empty. Her cherished watch, all her money, and her ticket, were alike lost. Here was an overwhelming calamity ! The short familiar tones of the porter braced her courage byerousing her indigna- tion ; if she had not been annoyed, it was possible that these misfortunes combined with the overpowering heat of the day, might have affected her to tears. As it was she held out the open and emptybag toward the porter with tragic dignity. "My purse was in this bag when I left IVferiton station," she said, with dismay in her voice " an.d," touching the dangling watch -chain, "my watch was fastened firmly to this chain. Both my purse and my watch are gone: I have lost them both but how, or where, or when, I have not the slightest idea." "Stolen," said the porter, shortly ' Helen looked thunderstruck, and the shrewd eyed man nodded like a Mandarin. iTo be otnitinuecar A Chief of Polift. There is no body of men more liable to suffer from exposure than the police. But as an example of how they get rid of their maladies, the following is cited : "Green Island, N. Y., U. S. A., Feb. Ilth, 1889: "1 suffered with neuralgia in the head, but found instant relief from the application of St. Jacobs Oil, which cured me." E. E BELLINGER, Chief of Police. Expensive Court Plaster. Brooklyn Life : Cubbage—Well, the court awards Miss Flypp $25,000 as a balm for her blighted affections. Rubbage—It isn't it balm. —a court plaster. Would yoir like to exchange your sallow cheeks for those glovving with health's rosea? Then try Dr. Williams' Pink Pills. It'rets plaster They rebuild the syetem and make life as The tone of the discussioh was pugna Chicago Tribune He --Shall we try the 1.3 less, though there was some excitement as the two combatants stooped at the same moment—their heads consequently coining in sharp contact—to pick, • up "Modern Society." Neither lost thole temper • on the contrary, they fitat apo ogize an en laughed with praiseworthy amiability. Just after this oacerrence the train slack- ened speed, and after emerging from the tunnel drew up alongside of the platform of , where the racing men, the dissent- iss Mitford, petulantly. " If you choose Ing minister, and the smart young lady come them miet hell) it 0.,a.by ft I presently alighted, leaving Helen and the "Then, if r come, you, will spool to m gentleman's gentlean sole occupantil of the carkiage. e "Oh, gee, yee, yesGood-by" 1 Helen drew loeg sigh of relief as they '. . "Won't you shake hands ?" departed, even though she thought itprobee "Pete McCloud," who plays the part of the consequential village tailor in the Irish play, "Will o' the Wisp," is a Hamilton boy. At home he is known as Williarn Laing. On the eastern frontier of the " Dark Con- tinent " coal is so plentiful that by lifting a shovelful cif clay off any particular islet it may be reached. But there is no means of transporting it to market. The lake which has thc highest elevation of any one in the world is Green Lake, Col. Its surface is 10,252 feet above the level of the sea. It is said that 420,000 peoploof France are afflicted with the disease of the thyroid gla»d known as goitre. erman Syru 99 3. C. Davis, Rector of St. fames' Episcopal Church, Eufaula Ala.: "My son has been badly afflicted with a fearful and threatening cough for several months, and after trying several prescriptions from physicians which failed to relieve him, he has been perfectly restored by the use of two bottles of Bo - An Episcopal schee's Gertnan Syr- up. I can recoil], Rector. mend it without hesitation." Chronic severe, deep-seated coughs like this are as severe telts as a remedy can be subjected to. It is for these long- standing cases that Bosehee's Ger- man Syrup is made a specialty. Many others afflicted as this lad was, will do well to make a note of this. J. F. Arnold, Montevideo, Minn., writes: I always use German Syrup. for a Cold on the Lungs. I have never found an equal to it—far less a superior. G. G. GREEN, Sole Man'fr,Woodbury,N.J, 01%.111=1:111011MILINIMIIIIINIP 1311111110=1=1111111 SUCCESSFUL iEN. Some of Them Englishm- en and Some Good, Americans. Says Harpers Weekly : Thomas Bayiev Potter, M. 13., the author of the Cobden. Club, that bugaboo of American protection- ists, is a stout, silver -haired patriarch, and. lives near Midhurst, Sussex county, Eng- land. He was a life-long friend of Richard Cobclon,and succeeded him in Parliament at his death in 1865. At Mr. Potter's home a quaint, dainty old house, his friend ofteil worked, and in a little church not far away rest the remains of the political economists Matthew, Daniel and 'William Grant, of Torrington, Commotion% triplets, and cousins of the late General U. S. Grant, have just celebrated their 70th birthday. Bret Harte was a elerk in the San Fran. - cisco Mint in 1865, when M. H. DeYoung started the Ohronkle, and did his first writ- ing for that paper. The late William Henry Smith, of Eng- land, was nick -named "011 Morality." M. Renan, the French historian, is 68 years old, but mentally and physically vigorous, and as full of work as ever. Mr. Gladstone is an appreciative novel reader, and often works himself up to it great ;tate of excitement over the unravel- ing of a plot. Thrashed a Nan Twice Uhl Size. The other day a small, harmless looking man entered a New York street car, and accidentally trod on the toes of a big six- footer. He apologized, but the six-footer wasn't satisfied. He talked for some time, and finally invited the little man to leave the car and settle the matter on the side- walk. Greatly to his astonishment, the latter accepted. Those who witnessed the contest say that it didn't last long, bet that the big fellow had to be carried home in an ,s1 ambulance, while his diminutive antagonist walked away with a cheerful smile. And so it is with Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets. They're not half as big as most of their rivals, but they do their work quietly and thoroughly. For sick headache, biliousness, constipation, dyspepsia, etc., there is nothing like them. Theyare the only liver Pills absolutely sold on trial! Your money back, if they don't give satisfaction? Figs and Thistles. The devil's Maks never makes anybody fat. Self-conceit is the rope that the devil never lets go of. Don't try to kill a fly on your neighbor' head with a hammer. Preaching that is aimed atthe head hardly ever strikes the heart Seeking happiness simply to have it is' a very bad kind of selfishness. 11 11 were not for hunger some men would. never do an honest day's work. Yeti can tell what kind of spirit there ia in a man by the way he treats women. There is no bigger coward anywhere in the world than the man who is afraid to de riglhttis hard to find people in misfortune who will not tell you that somebody else was to blame for it.--Rant's Horn. A. Good Reason for Living. "She lives to love and loves to live She loves to live because she lives to love." Many think it is it sin to be sick; being so, one cannot bestow their affections on others as the Creator intended; being so it certainly is a duty to cure yourself. Mint women, these days, need an invigorating tonic. Worn-out teachers, "shop -girls, dressmakers, milliner's, and those subject te tiresome labor, have found it boon in Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription. It is a soothing and strengthening nervine, inducing refreshing sleep relieves desponalency and , restores to full use all the appetites and, r • 9 affections of one's nature. It is sold, by druggists, under a gualywdee from its makers that it will, in every ease, give satisfaction, or price ($L00) will be promptly refunded. Lengtim of Elvers. In Europe—The Danube, 1,800 miles ; Dnieper, 1,260; Dort, 1,120; Rhine, 691 ; Elbe, 800; Rhone, 60; Volga,„2,800. In Asia—Ganges, 1,970; Irawaddy, 2,600; Indes, 2,300; Euphrates, 1,750 • Amoor, 2,800; Yang-tse-Kiang, 3,300; Hoang -Ho, 2,700 ; Zambesi, 800; Yenesei, 3,250; Obi, 2,700. In Africa—Nile, 2,500; Niger, 2,600; Senegal, 1,900; Gamput, 1,700. In America—Missouri to the Mississippi, 3,100 ; Missouri to the Gulf, 4,350 ; Missis- sippi, 3,160; Amazon, 3,600; River de la. Plata, 2,240; St. Lawrence, 2,100 ; Orin- occo, 1,600; BioGrande, 1,800. Tun is a season when colds in the head are alarmingly prevalent. They lead to catarrh, perhaps consumption and death Need Dalin gives immediate relief and eel.- ain cure. Sold by all dealers. Adelina Patti will sail for New York by the City of New York on December 23rd. Iler husband, Nicolini, will accompany her. She will first tour in concert and then appear in opera, riot, however, with Abbey and Gran's Italian and French Opera Com - piny. There are said to be over 113 000 Indians in the United States who can read English, and over 10,000 whe eau read Indian lan- guages.