Newspaper Page Text
THE MILAN EXCHANGE.
W. A. WADE, Publisher.
When Dorothy was twenty-four,
I ww. I m uft confess.
Hut two nty, yi-t for this I swore
1 1ovmI licr none the lss.
WlirVjfioiiifh some saury maiden tensed,
Ort u-leiit ono cried "Slimmi!"
.Tfllghf 1 not imury as I pleased.
If blmki-t-iiie did tlio ame(
.Althoiurh I know she farcrod mo,
For ho Klin oft hud mild.
This would she have no cither see,
Nor promise mo to wed.
Indeed I took her much to task)
For 11 1 r1 in if. "Very true,"
;8hn answered, smiling. "Thus I mask
My preference for you."
And then T fancied hateful thoughtl
lVme other mhrht oltln
The kiss tlmt I myself hHd sought
A thousand times In vain.
My Ri'Kiiincnt uKn thin head
She found of little savor;
"You jctilou child, you know." she laid,
"Thut kis-iiiK goes by favor!"
One day f met her, face to face,
With Doikins, arm In arm.
So like It whk to an embrace,
I viewed them with alarm.
:8ln saw inr: started; irijfjjled; blushed;
Then, pointing with her fan:
"There's Tom, he's fond of me," she gushed;
"Ask him to be bent manl"
Walter Clarke, in Lift.
A. Woll-Told Story of Continuous
end Absorbing Interest.
Ill HIGH CONWAY.
CHAPTER V. Continued.
I had found some difficulty in settling
-what cvrse to pursue. I deckled, after
ventilating various schemes, that
-would take Pauline to my own rooms in
"Walpole street. I knew the people of
the house well, and felt certain she
would be taken care of during my ab
sence; for, after a few hours' repose, it
was my intention to start in search of
Ceneri. I had written from Edinburgh
to Walpole street, telling the good peo
ple there to be ready for me and whom
to expect; moreover, I had again ap
pealed to my faithful old servant, Pris-
-cilla, and begged her to be at the house
awaiting my arrival. For my sake, I
1new she would show every kindness
to my poor girl. So to Walpole street
All was in readiness for us. Priscilla
-received us with eyes all of curious
wonder. I saw that her- sympathies
"were at once enlisted by Pauline's ap
pearance. After a cr.p of tea and some
thing to eat, I begged Priscilla to lead
niy wife to her room, that she might
take the rest she needed. Pauline, in
lier childlike, docile way, rose and fol
lowed the old woman..
' When you ' have seen tP Mrs.
"Vaughan's comforts, come back to me,"
I said; "I want to speak to you."
Priscilla, no doubt, was only too eager
to return to me. I felt she was brim
ming over with questions about my un-
-cxpecjed marriage; but I checked her
I'f. My face tnust have told her
S1- I i. nothing pleasant to commu
nicate! ohe sat down, and, as I desired
her so do, listened without comment to
I was compelled to confide in some
ne. The old woman, I knew, was
trustworthy and would keep my affairs
.secret. So I told her all, or nearly all.
I explained as well as I could Pauline's
mental state, i suggestea all that my
. .short experience brought to my mind,
.nd 1 pra'ed Priscilla, by the love she
bore me, to guard and be kind in my
.-absence to the wife 1 loved. In?
promise being given I threw myself
- upon the sola ana slept for several
Ik the afternoon I saw Pauline again,
I asked ber if she knew where I could
-write to Ceneri. She shook her head.
"Trv and think, mv dear." I said.
She pressed her delicate finger-tips
ajrainst her brow. I had always noticed
that trying to think always troubled her
"Teresa knew," I said to assist her.
"Yes, ask her."
" But she has left us, Paulino. Can
you not tell us where she is?" Onco
more she shook her head hopelessly.
"He told me he lived in Geneva," I
. said. "Do you know the street?"
She turned her puzzled eyes to mine.
I sighed, as I knew my questions were
Still, find him I must. I would go to
' Geneva. If the man was a doctor, as he
represented himself, he must be known
there. If I could not tind any trace of
him at Geneva I would try Turin. I
took'my wife's hand.
" I am going away for a few days,
Pauline. You will stay here until I re
turn. Every one will be kind to you.
Priscilla will get vou all you want."
"Yes, Gilbert, she said, softly. I
had f.ught her to call me Gilbert.
Then, after gome last instructions to
Friscilla, I started on my journey. As
ruy cab drove from the door I glanced
ip at the window of the room in which
1 had left Pauline. Sho was standing
there loqking at me, and a great wave
of joy came over my heart, for I fan
cied "that her eyes were looking sad,
like the eyes of one taking leave of a
dear frienil. It may have been only
fancy, but, as I had never before even
fancied the expression there, that look
in Pajdjjs eyes was soma comfort to
. vcarrVTJth me. .
1 AuvVk. a-for Geneva and ildottore
I traveled in hot haste, as fast as
team would bear mo, to Geneva.whero
' I at once berrau injr inquiries as to the
whereabouts of Dr. Ceneri. I had
hoped that finding him would be an
easy matter. His words had given me
the impression that he practiced in the
towp. If so many peoplo must know
him. But he had misled me or I had
deceived myself. For several days I
hunted high and low; inquired every
where; but not a soul could I find who
knew the man. 1 called on every doc
tor in the place; one and all professed
entire ignorance of such a colleague.
At last I felt certain that the name he
had given me was a fictitious onp, or
that. Geneva was not his abode. How
ever obscure a doctor may be, ho is
sure to bo known by some of his pro
fessional brethren in the same town.
I decided to go to Turin and try my
It was on the eve of my intended de
parture. I was strolling about, feeling
very sad at heart, and trying to per
suade myself that I should fare better in
Turin, when I noticed a man lounging
along the opposite side of the street.
As his face and bearing seemed familiar
to me, I crossed the road to see him to
better advantage. Being clothed in the
inevitable tourist suit he presented the
appearance of an ordinary British trav
eler so much so that I believed I must
Ins mistaken. But I was right, after all.
In spite of his changed attire I recog
nized him the r inient I drew near, lie
was the man with whom Kenyon had
engaged in a wordy war outside San
Giovanni the man who had remon
strated with us for our expressed ad
miration of Pauline the man who had
walked away am. in arm with Ceneri.
The chance was too good a one to be
lost. Ifo would, at least, know where
the. doctor was to be found. I trusted
his memory for faces was not so re
tentive as mine; that he would not con
nect nie with the unpleasant passage
which occurred when we last met. I
walked up to him, and raising my hat,
requested him to favor me with a few
1 spoke in Knjrlish. lie gave me a
quick, penetrating glance, then acknowl
edrinr mv salutation, professed, in the
same language, his wish to place him
self at my service.
"J. am trying to ascertain the address
of a gentleman who I believe Jives here.
I think you will be able to assist me."
lie laughed. "1 will it lean but be
ing like yourself, an Englishman, and
knowins very few people, 1 lear 1 can
be of little help to you."
"1 am anxious to hnd a doctor named
1 he start ho gave as he heard my
words; the look, almost of apprehen
sion, he cast on me, showed me that he
recognized the name. But in a second
he recovered himself.
"l ean not remember the name.
am sorry to say I am unable to help
"lint, " isanl in Italian, 1 have seen
you in his company."
He scowled viciously. "1 know no
man of the name.. Good-morning."
He raised his hat and strode away.
I was not going to lose him like that
I quickened my pace and came up with
"I must beg of you to tell mo where
I can find him. I must see him upon
an important matter. It is no use de
nying that he is a friend of yours."
Ho hesitated, then halted. "You are
strangely importunate, sir. Perhaps
you will tell me your reason for your
statement that the man you seek is my
"I saw you arm in arm with him."
"Where, may I ask?"
"In Turin last spring. Outside San
He looked at me attentively. "Yes, I
remember your lace, now. iou are
one of those young men who insulted
a lady, and whom I swore to chastise.'
".No insult was meant, but even had
it been so, It might be passed over
"No insult! I have killed a man for
less than your friend said to me!"
"Please remember I said nothing. But
that matters little. It was on behalf of
his niece, Pauline, that I wish to see
A look of utter astonishment spread
over his face. "What have you to do
with his niece?" he asked, roughly.
"That is his business and mine. Now
tell me where I can tind him."
"What is your name?" he asked curt
"What are you?"
"An English gentleman nothing
He remained thoughtful for a few
seconds. "lean take you to Ceneri,'
ho said, "but 'first I must know what
you want with him, and why you men
tion Pauline's name? The street is not
the place to talk in let us go else
I led him to my hotel, to a room where
we could talk at our ease.
jow, jur. vaughan, he said, "an
swer my question, and 1 may see my
way to helping you. What has Pauliuo
March to do with the matter?"
" She is my wife that is all.
He sprang to his feet a fierce Italian
oath hissed from his lips. His face was
white with rage.
" Your wife?" ho shouted. "You lie
I say you lie!"
i rose, lurious as himself, but more
" I told vou, sir, that I am an En
glish gentleman. Either you will apl
ogize for your words or I will kick you
out ot the room. '
He struggled with his passion and
curbed it. "I apologize," lie said, "I
was wrong. Does Ceneri know it?" ho
" Certainly; ho was present when we
His passion once more
the poiut ol mastering him. " Tradi
toreV I heard him whisper fiercely to
himself. lngannatore!" Then he
turned to me with composed features.
"If so I have nothing more to do
save to congratulate you. Mr. Vaughan.
Your fortune is indeed enviable. Your
wife is beautiful, and of course good.
You will find her a charming compan
ion." I would have g'ven much to know
why the mention of my marriage should
have sent him into such a storm of rage,
but I would hare given more to have
been able to fulfill my threat of kicking
him out. The intonation of his last
words told me that Pauline' state of
mind was well known to him. I could
scarcely keep my hands off the fellow;
but iwas compelled to restrain my an
ger, as "without his aid 1 could not find
" Thank you," I said quietly, "now
perhaps you will give mo tho informa
tion I want."
" You are not a very devoted bride
groom, Mr. Vaughan, ' said the fellow
mockingly. "If Ceneri was at your
wedding it could only have occurred a
few days ago. It ruiwt be important
business which tear you from the side
of your bride."
" it Is important business."
"Then I fear it must wait a few days.
Ceneri is not in Geneva. But I have
reason to think he may be here in about
week s tine. 1 shall see him, and will
tell him you aro here."
"Ijet me know where to hnd him and
will call upon him. I must speak
I imagine that will be as tho doctor
chooses. I can only mzko known your
wishes to him.
He bowed and left me. I felt that,
even now it was doubtiul whether 1
should succeed in obtaining the inter
iew with tho mysterious doctor. It
epended entirely whether ho chose to
grant it. He might come to Geneva
and go away again without my being
any the wiser, unless his' friend or him
self sent me some communication.
I idled awav a week, and then berran
to fear that Ceneri had made up his
mind to keep out of my way. But it
was not so. A letter came one morn-
inr. It contained a few words' onlv
You wish to see me. A carriage will
call for you at eleven o'clock. M. C."
At eleven o'clock an ordinary hired
conveyance drove up to the hotel. The
driver inquired for Mr. Vaughan. I
stepped in without a word, and was
driven to a small house outside tho
town. Upon being shown into a room
I found the doctor seated at a table
covered with newspapers and letters
He rose, and shaking my hand begged
me to be seated. .
You have come to Geneva to see me,
I hear, Mr. Vaughan?
les. 1 wished to ask you soma
luestions respecting my wife."
"1 will answer all I can but there
are many I shall doubtless refuse to re
ply to. You remomber my stipula
Yes, but why did you not make me
aware of my wife'.twfculiar mental
"You had seen her yourself several
times. Her state was the same as when
sho first proved so attractive to you. I
h'ai sorry you should think yourself
"Why not have told me everythins?
1 aen l could have blamed no one.
I had so many reasons, Mr.
Vaujjhan. Paulino was a srreat respon
sibility on my shoulders. A great ex
pense, for I am a poor man. And, after
all, Is the matter so very bad: She is
beautiful, good and amiable. She will
make you amoving wife."
"You wished to get rid of her, in
'Scarcely that altogether. There are
circumstances I can not explain them
which made me glad to marry her to
an Englishman of good position."
"Without thinking what that man s
feelings might be on finding the woman
he loved little better than a child.
I felt indignant and showed my feel-
ing very plainly, ceneri took little no-
tice of my warmth
Ho remained per-
There is another point to be consid
ered. Pauline's case is, in my opinion,
far from being hopeless. Indeed, I. have
always looked upon marriage as greatly
adding to the chance of her recovery
If her mind to a certain extent is want
ing I believe that, little by little, it may
bo built up again. Or it may return as
suddenly as it left ner.
My heart leaped at his words of hope.
Cruelly as I felt I had been treated, tool
that I had been made for this man s self
ish ends, I was willing to accept the
situation cheerfully if I had any hope
held out to me.
"Will you give me all the particulars
of my poor wife's state? I conclude she
has not been always like this."
"Certainly not. Her case is most pe-
I'uiini, r)iuo vents n"u uo rcccivcu a
great shock sustained a sudden loss.
The effect was to entirely blot out the
past from her mind. She rose from her
bed after some weeks' illness with her
memory a complete blank. Places were
forgotten friends were strangers to
her. Her mind might, as you say, have
been the mind of a child. But a child's
mind grows, and, if treated properly, so
"What was the cause of her illness-
"lhatis one of tho questions 1 can
"But I have a right to know."
"You have a right to ask, and I have
a right to refuse to tipeak.
"Tell me of her family her rela
"She has none, 1 believe, pave my
1 asked other questioti.i, but could get
no answers worth recording. I nhould
return to England not much wiser than
I left U. But there was one quer tiou to
whloh 1 insisted on having a clear
"What has that friend of yours that
aking Italian, to do with
his shoulders and
"Macari! I fm glad to be able to an
swer something fully, Mr. Vaughan.
For a vear or two before Pauline wa
taken ill, Macari supposed himself to be
in love with her. He is now furious with
me for allowing her to get married. Ho
declares ho was only awaiting her re
covery to try his own luck."
"vv ny should no not nave served your
pjqiose as well as 1 seem to haver
Ceneri looked at me sharply. "1)9
you regret, Mr. vaughan?
to not II there is a chance, even a
slight chance.. But I tell you, Dr.
Ceneri, you have deceived and cajoled
I rose to take mv leave. Then Ceneri
spoke with mo-e feeling than he had as
"JUr. Vaughan, ao not nidge me too
harshly. I have wronged you, I admit.
There are things you know nothing of.
1 must tell you more than 1 intended.
Tho temptation to place Pauline in a
position of wealth and comfort was ir
resistible. I am her debtor for a vast
amount. At one time her fortune was
about fifty thousand pounds. The
whole of that I spent "
"And dare to boast of It!" I said, bit
terly. He waved his hand with dignity.
Yes. I dare to speak of it. I spent
it all for freedom for Italy. It was in
my keeping as trustee. 1, who would
have robbed my own father, my own
son, should I hesitate to take her money
for such an end? Every farthing went
to the great cause, and was well spent."
It was the act of a criminal to rob an
.'Call it what vou like. Money had to
bo found. Why should I not sacrifice
my honor for my country as freely as 1
would have saeriticed my litef"
"It is no use discussing it tho mat
ter is ended."
Yes, but I tell you to show you why
I wished to gain Paulino a home. More
over, Mr. Vaughan" here his voice
dropped to a whisper "I was anxious
to provide that homo at once. I am
bound on a journey a journey of whiou
1 can not see the end, much less the re
turning. I doubt whether I should have
decided to see you had it not been for
this. But the chances are we shall
never meet again."
"You mean you are engaged in somo
plot or conspiracy?"
"I mean what I have said no more,
no less. I will now bid you adieu."
Angry as I was with the man, I could
not refuse the hand he stretched out to
Farewell," he said, " it may be that
in some year or two I shall write to you
and ask you if my predictions as to
Pauline's recovery have been fulfilled;
but do not trouble to seek me or to in
quire for ma if I am silent."
So we parted. 1 he carriage was
waiting to take mo back to the hotel.
On my way thither I passed the man
whom Ceneri had called Macari. He
signaled to the driver to stop, and then
entering the carriage, sat beside me.
You have seen the doctor, Mr.
Vaughan?" he asked.
"Yes. I have just come from him."
"And have learned all you wish -to
know, I hope?"
A great many of my questions have
"But not all. Ceneri would not an
Ho laughed, and his laugh was cynic
al and mocking. I kept silence.
Had you questioned me," he con
tinued, "1 niirht have told you more
I came to ask Dr. Ceneri for all the
information ho could give me respectin
mv wife's mental state, of which I be
lieve you are liware. If you can any-
tlnS maY 1)0 ot U3e to me 1 beS
"You asked him what caused itP"
"I did. He told mo a shock."
"You asked him what shock. That
ho did not tell you?"
"lie had his reasons lor declining, i
'les. ixcelleut reasons lamily
If you can enlighten me, kindly do
"Not here. Mr. Vauffhan. The doc
tor and I are friends. You might fly
back and assault him, and I should get
blamed. You are going back to Eng
land, 1 suppose?
les. 1 start at once.
Give me your address, and perhap
1 will write; or, better still, it 1 leei in
dined to be communicative, I will call
on you when I am next in London, and
pay my rspeets to Mrs. Vaugi.an at the
So eager was I to get at the bottom of
the whole affair that I gave him my
card. He then stopped the carriage
and stepped out. He raised his hat,
and there-was a malicious triumph in
his eves as they met mine.
"Good-bye, Mr. Vaughan. Perhaps
after all vou are to be congratulated
upon being married to a woman whose
past it is impossible to rake up."
With this parting shaft a shaft which
struck deep and rankled he left me. It
was well he did so, before I imught hiin
by the throat and strove to force him to
explain his last words.
Longing to see my poor wife again, I
went back to tnglana with all speed
to bk continued, J
T5r. Dechamps says that the microbe
of scarlet fever is shaped like a hair
with it iiurfdlinfr at. nnH 4nil. It renro-
duces rapidly but U easily killed byiay
THE FISH TRADE.
the Sons of Cape Cod and Their Enter- .
prWe An Association or Amateur
Ever since the Tilgriras landed at.
Plymouth Bay thoso treasures of tho
deep, cod, haddock; halibut, mackerel
and the smaller varieties of the finny
tribe, such as perch, flounders, smelts,'
etc., have been a source not only of
wealth, but a precious boon in this eeo-j
tion of the country in times of need.!
when agricultural labor produced bar
ren results. Tho waters which wasli
the shores of that crooked and sandy
peninsula. Cape Cod, In early day
were alive with tho above-named speci
mens of a floating population which
sometimes by force of numbers
darkened the face of the great deep.
The great value of these marine pro
ductions was soon appreciated by out
hardy predecessors, and fishing was
for many the most productive branch
of industry to which they could resort
to sustain life. Cape Cod is supposed
to have derived that name from tho
fish which kept its inhabitants from
starving, and which for years was th
staple product of the colony. For
many years tho insignificant port of
Ilingham, whose harbor is now. as dry
as its sands at any stage of water,
was a scene of busy industry,
and it is stated that the manu
facture of kits and tubs for salted fish
created that great industry which has
made Ilingham proverbial, viz., the
construction of buckets, pails and tubs.
It is a very ancient joke that when a
native of that town "crossed the river,"
the villagers remarked, "he has kicked
the bucket. ' All along the shore, way
down to the" terminus oceanward of
ape Cod, the hardy fishermen' trained
their bovs to bo sailors with such pcr-
ection that a Cape Cod boy was pre
ferred above all others by the export-
njr and importing merchants of Boston.
New York, Baltimore and other mari
time cities. Tho finest ships that ever
sailed from these ports were navigated
by Capo Cod seamen, whose early train
ing was in the fishery business. Fish
ing for fun and fishing for a living are
vastly different things, a fact
which will be readily acknowledged by
those who have tried both. Excursion
ists who make a summer trip over tho
surface of the vasty deep, with tho in
tention of capturing its scaly inhabit
ants, seldom "cast their lines in pleas
ant places." Unless on their return
trip they fall in with some professional
fisherman in his dingy oldtnb; of whom
they purchase a few cod or perch, they
return to the dock empty-handed, yet
they generally have a good time.
About the year 14U a club ot ama
teur fishermen was formed, composed
of many lively Boston boys and middle-
aged merchants, lor the purppose oi
exploring Massachusetts Bay and catch
ing the biggest cod to be found floating
or swimming in its waters. It wass
called the "Mammoth Cod Associa
tion," and every member was expected
to do his level best in capturing a levi
athan of the deep. Largo pools, some
times amounting to three, live, ten, ana
even twenty-five dollars, were ottered
for the first scaly culprit hauled on
board. Capturing fish was not, how
ever, "the primary object of the amateur
fishermen, as some of the yet remaining
original members can attest. Several
of the committee on "bimbo" and
"draw poker" are yet living. Amateur
fishing never did amount to much in
Boston Harbor or its vicinity; the se
rious portion of the business was done
by those "toilers of the deep" who
thereby earned a subsistence. Boston
A physician of long practice was re
minded that we can judge of a horse's
years by its motion, and asked wny
some rules could not be laid down in a
general way for estimating tho ago of a
woman. Tho uncertainty is not alto
gether due to deceptive practices, ac
cording to his reply, but to tho varying
effect of time in individuals. As a rule
brunettes look older than blondes of a
corresponding age. As to plumpness
and tho lack of it, fat may be said to in
crease the apparent age of a girl under
twenty-five, and to lessen it iu a woman
over that; and the reason is that
elenderness is girlish as long as it does
not produce wrinkles, while rotundity
keeps the skin taut and smooth. "In
no gathering ot women strangers to you
could you guess the ages within five
vears on the average," he added, ."and
in half the instances you would be ted
years out of the way. I know a woman
ol thirty-nve, with a son oi eignteen,
and when seen together they are com
monly mistaken for brother and sister.
Popular ideas as to the ages of actresses
are extravagantly erroneous. I could
name several whom I know to be tre
mendously outraged by overestimates."
The appraisers of the personal
property left by Mrs. Margheretta Boss,
of New York City, only found property
to the amount oi $85. Shortly before
Mrs. Boss' death she informed her eld
est son that his share of her effecU
would be over $1,000. This fact was
communicated to the appraisers, who,
on further search, discovered in a cor
ner of the garret a musty old box which
contained nearly $1H,000. The money
will bo divided equally among the chil
dren, six in number, who are, accord
ingly, 3,014 2-8 better off than was at
How to make a good cow-shed.
Pour boiling water on her back and it
will make a good cow shed her hair
after the most rapid and complete