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gotind by a Spell
Judith was quits right: although h-r
Words Riled me with fear, tlr-v Could
nol destroy, or even weaken, the fusci-
DMtion she exercised over me. Our mar
riage day was tixed. How distinct!? I
remember every aspect and event of that
•lay. The ceremony was. of course, to
lie celebrated at Little Bethlehem by
the bride's father. All the principal
member* of the congregation were l.i be
of the party, and the Itev. Obadiah Por
ter provided the entertainment with no
When I entered the parlor I found it
full of people. Of these two solelilll
looki;!'.' young men. whom 1 had often
seen at chapel, represented the grooms
men. and two remarkably ROlir-looklnj
ifirls, d nnghters of Mrs. Humphries, the
Two or three dark looking cal>s were
nt the gate, and when nil was reml.v we
sallied forth. Martha was stiindins in
the hall, holding the house door in her
hand. I bad never exchanged n word
With her since flint niuht when she \.ay
laid me upon the landing; indeed, had
i.c\.>r seen her, except when she waited
nt meal times. flow sorrowfully ihe
looked at me that morning! As I pnssed
out into the garden with Miss II mi
phries upon my arm, she threw an old
•hoe lifter me, The young lady wai
astounded, and I heard her master pnu*e
for a moment to rebuke her for inch n
"heathenish" act, as he was pleased to
•tjlc it. ,
Although in tlie height of summer, it
whs n most miserable morning. From
edc<" to edge of the horizon, the sky was
one of uniform leaden hue; there was a
fine, soaking rain, that blurred nnd blot
ted to the eve every more distant ob
jwt; the saturated trees kept up a con
Stunt drip. drip, the calyx of eveiy How
«r was a ininiat ure lake; and on the
point of every leaf and Made of
quivered globules of water. I..'tree pools
la> in the graveled path, and the earth
The little chapel was chill and gloomy
■m vault, and iii damp atmosphere
riling upon every object, dimming the
•windows, and half-veiling the cold, gray
liglit that struggled through them.
"Not n pleasant day for n inarrlftge,"
remarked Miss Humphries, solemnly; it
VII the first remark she had addressed
"More Btting for a funeral." I nnsv er
She looked at me rather strangely, nnd
It certainly must have sounded a some
what Strange remark in the mouth of a
The ceremony, according to the tenets
of these people, commenced; and an I
took her hiiud, I looked at Judith foi the
first t i 111 * - tliiit morning. She seemed
unconscious of my glance. Her face was
dtathly pale, and very rigid, like one
•who had nerved herself to a terrible and
repulsive tusk, us Indeed she had. The
touch of my hand awoke her from her
revirie. Stie Shuddered: but I thought
there w.'is irssiif hardness and worn
In her manner, aa well 1 might, for
her tean were falling fast.
Mr. E'orter also was not unite him
self; lip seemed agitated and nervous. To
my morbid fancy liis prayert lounded
like n service for tin? dead. At last.
it was all over The whole party '.»as
gathered near the door preparatory to
leaving. Judith and her father hud gone
Into iv little room that stood near the
•nttance, where she had leCI her wrap
pi!fjs. I "US the last. Moodily I was
fo'Vwing tlie rest, when my eyes 1 »p
--pencU to fall upon a small glittering
object. It was a goldeu locket. In pick
ing it up my finger pressed the spline
•ml opened it. What a thrill ran through
me: it contained the portrait of a tdrl
of about 14. It was the face Of the
child I had met in the Norman gateway!
Who had dropped it. or how had it
come hero! Pitting it into my pocket, I
resolved to carefully note any per-ou
T ho should appear to or speak of having
The cab* conveyed us home again, and
the dinner was waiting. Towards even
lap the company dispersed, hut no i-it
eon spoke" of ii loss, and the my-;«-ry
of the locket remained ah Inscrutable
mjMery. I woukl not make anj In
quiries for the owner, :is I 1,,..; resolved
not to part with it 1 hugged it ps a
treasure: and. somehow, amidst the mis
ery of that day, it fell upon my I,tart
like a gleam of hope.
While waiting at table Martha con
trived to slip a piece of paper into my
brad. My fingers instinctively grouped
it. Our visitors had gone. Judith had
retired to her room to change her lire**,
aixl Mr. I'orter was in his storeroom. I
seized the opportunity to examine the
paper. It was a note, but written in a
•cravl almost illegible. It ran thus:
"This is my last day here, I le we
to-morrow. Always to lie heard of at I
No. 'A Rackstrmw's building, Camden
Town. Take care of yourself. God
bless you. MARTHA."
So I was deprived of my only friend.
I was now utterly alone in the lion's
den. A new feeling of fear and deso
lation fell upon my heart.
I could endure it no longer, and so I
fled. One month after my wedding night
1 left that roof forever. Upon what
passed during that month my lips are
sealed. To no living being shall I ever
reveal the story of my Bufferings during
those thirty-one days.
On the night of the 81st of August, I
crept out of my chamber, ascended to
th* boys' room sod, unseen and unheard
I by them, opened their window nnd do
scended to the garden by means of the
pear tree. Vividly did my frightful
dream come back upon me nt that mo
ment, and I almost expected to see the
red snake with his flittering eyes writh
ing round some leafy branch. Bui I
reached the ground in safety, will.
encountering any object, fanciful or real.
In lew than three minutes more I was
;m the high road, a vagabond, a homeless
Mitcagt. but n free mini. All my worldly
possessions were the suit of clothes I
wore, nnd my wedding suit mi.l ;i change
of linen that I carried tied up in a tain
dle. It was a brijjit moonlight night.
I cast one farewell glance upon the only
home I had ever known and wall ed
I made towards Bury, I passed Tat
tle Bethlehem, and thought, with a shud
der, of my marriage day. Then I en
tered the town, and took the street that
led me past the old Abbey ruins. I had
never seen them since that October
night. 1 stopped at the old Norman gate
way, and peered Into its .shadows, almost
expecting to encounter the sweet, pale
face again. But all was silent and
deserted —not a soul was in sight.
Whither was I going? I who going to
Martha. I had carefully preserved her
note. I knew she would give me n shel
ter until I could obtain some kind of
employment. When I reached the next
town I would sell the bundle of clothes,
and the money would, provide me with
food and lodging on the way. I had no
conception of the road, but I resolved
that I would take the one down which
I had seen her disappear. She said that
she understood that to be the right one.
I would follow in her steps.
The day was just dawning when I
came upon a largo, old-fashioned village.
Unused to violent exercise, and exhaust
ed for want of food, for 1 had eaten
nothing since dinner time the day before,
my steps began to Bag. I looked round
some place to rest; there was no fign
of life in any of the houses—all seemed
buried in sleep. I walked slowly on
until I came to a little swing gate, which
led to the village church —an ancient
looking building, embossed in trees.
Here, I thought, is n quiet spot •where
I can rest a little while. I opened the
gate, and passed through.
It was a pretty, quiet spot. I could
not have found a better for an hour's
rest. There was a heavy dew- upon the
long glass, so I stretched myself upon a
high, flat tombstone, and placed my bun
dle beneath my head. I was very weary,
and in spite of the cold air of the dawn,
that made me shiver, I fell fast asleep,
with the twittering of the waking birds
sounding In my ears. *
When I awoke the sun was shining
brightly, nnd the birds were in full song.
For a moment I could not comprehend
my position. I sat up and looked round,
but my doubts were only of a second.
Then I knelt down against my stone
bed and offered up a thanksgiving for
my deliverance, and a fervent prayer
for my future safety.
When I rose from my knees I became
conscious that I was not alone. Seated
upon a tomb a little distance from me.
and attentively watching me, was an
old gentleman dressed like a respecta
"Good morning, young man," he said,
in a cheery voice; "you've had rather a
cold bed, I'm thinking. I suppose you've
been traveling all night?"
"Yes, sir." I answered. "From Bury."
"Why, that isn't more than ten miles!
You should have had a little more sleep
in your bed, my lad, and have started
about this time. Enough to give you
your death of cold to lie out here and go
to sleep in the dew. You don't look
very strong, either. Wherever you're
going, you won't get on now till you've
lad a bit of breakfast."
I colored up at the mention of break
fast. 1 had not a farthing of money,
and until 1 could dispose of the con
tents of my bundle. I could not procure
a mouthful. 1 thanked him. took up my
bundle, wished him good morning and
turned to go.
"Stop, stop! come here a minute," he
1 advanced a few steps nearer to him.
He scrutinised me more carefully than
ever, with the expression of a man who
was about to make a proposition of
"Here, here! you shall come nnd break
fast with me," he said, after a minute's
pause. "I like the look of you, and 1
don't think you're a tramp."
I thanked him very much for his kind
ness, which, under the circumstances, I
certainly had not strength of mind
enough to decline. We left the church
yard and proceeded down a lovely green
lane canopied with trees.
"1 always rise at live," said the old
gentleman, as we walked along; "and.
unless it is very bad weather, take a
walk as far as the churchyard. It's
been my custom for many years, and, I
suppose, will continue to lie so until some
morning 1 am carried there, never to
come back again. Nothing like exercise,
however, ami the early morning air.
to delay that title event; but not sleep
ing on tombstones," he added, with a
After about ten minutes' walk we
stopped before a dor in a high garden
wall, which my conductor opened with a
key. and facing us at the end of a gar
den path was the prettiest cottage I had
» ever seen, very old-fashioned, and en
tirely covered with roses and woodbines,
that loaded the whole air with delicious
* perfume. The garden wan beautifully
1 laid out in flower beds; on on* side was
a grape home, on the ot'ier a conferva-
tOI7, filled \»iih tlie most brilliant col-
I and plants. The rays of the morning
! suu were ilasting brightly across the
i scene, mid Imparting- to it the most
I joyonsly cheerful air.
"How different to the house I L.ive
just left!" I thought
"Pretty place, iiu't it?" said the «ld
"Swc'iiy pretty," I murmured,
He led the way Into a little low
rooferi Km. darkened by the overhung*
ing blossoms that hung thickly over the
latticed window. It was comfortably,
Indeed, handsomely, furnished. The table
was laid for breakfast. A second cap
and saucer and plate were soon produced
by a kind-looking, middle-aged woifian,
.•mil I was soon sitting before a substan
tial meal of eggs and bacon, and cold
beef, to be washed down by plenty of
strong coffee. Never had food been so
grateful to me before, and I certainly
lid ample justice to it. I could per
elve that my host every now anil then
..•nst a curious glance at me, as though 1
presented something of a puzzle to him.
"Now, if [ mi^lit he permitted to haz
ard a gUPSS, I should fancy you wire
something In the parson line," ha said,
leaning back in his chair.
1 disclaimed the honor.
"Well, it was the long hair find the
queer-looking black clothes that put tl.at
idea into m\ head; :uul ymi look so seri
ous for a lad of your years. 1 have it!
You're a school usher."
1 confessed that his last guess was
"Ah, poor fellow! No wonder you
look so miserable!" he said, compassion
ately. "It must bo a hard life, and a
badly paid one; and I suppose you've
left your place? Where are you going
"I nm going to the city."
"You've friends there, I suppose?'
"I liuve one, sir, who I think will help
He must have thought mo very rlose
and churlish, to be so sparing of my an
swers after his kindnera; but the fact is,
that I was undecided at the moment
whfther I should make n elenn breast of
all mj troubles to him; he seemed so
kindly hearted that 1 felt mho he would
pity me. But the natural reticence of
my disposition, rather than any feeling
of mistrust, prevented me.
"But jou'rt not going to walk:' he
"Yes, sir. I have no other means of
getting there. I have a suit of clothes
in this bundle, that I intend to sell as
hoop, as I pome to a town." 1 faltered.
The old geutleman paused, and looked
very hard at me--seemed, for a moment,
to revohe an idta- and then s;iid,
"Leave the clothes with me. I don't
want to look at them. 1 will lend you
live dollars. That will take you to \our
friend, and leave some money to boot
in your pocket. Any time you bring me
or send me the money you shall have
your clothes back again, A mile and a
half from here is the railway station.
In half an hour a train will stop there.
You will be aide to entch that toiniort
aldy. I will walk a little distance with
you, and put .nm in the right path. Stop
a minute, and I'll bring you the mouoy."
Without waiting to listen to my fer
vent thanks, he left the room. Never
in my life had 1 felt so light-hearted and
1 rose from the chair to tako the
clothes out of the handkerchief and
smooth them, as they must have been
somewhat crumpled by doing service as
n pillow; also to tako out the change of
linen which I pould not do without. In
doing so, my eyes fVll upon a portrait,
hung in n dark corner of the room. It
wns thnt of a woman, with blight au
burn hair, transparently fair complevion,
blue eves, a very beautiful, pensive face,
witli something in it that came hack
upon me like h memory. It seemed to
me that I had seen that face somewhere.
While I stood trying to remember, the
old gentleman m-entered the room.
"Ali, you're looking at my poor girl's
portrait*" he said, in a sad voice.
"Your daughter's, sir?"
"Yes — my only one."
"Is -she still living." I asked, some
"She lias been (lend those eighteen
years," he answered, sorrowfully.
"I must be mistaken: I was only nn
infant in arms at that time," I thought.
lie gave me the money, but would
not listen to my thanks.
"Tut. tut!" he said: "that's nothing.
I'd give you more, it' I really knew you
were all right; but I have been so often
taken in that I'm doubtful of everybody
now. But 1 like your looks; but I've
liked others that have been the property
of groat vagabonds."
(To be continued.)
The New Dispensation.
On the staff of one of the important
theological seminaries In Canada is a
professor who happily illustrates the
phrase, "A gentleman, a scholar and
a Christian." He Is bleased with many
children whose education is a matter
of affectionate concern '» him.
The youngest, a bright little girl,
just beginning to be Interested la lubie
study, wMit to him one day with a
number of perplexing question! as to
the way in which the Cnosen People
dciiit with their enemies. Her tender
little huart shrank at what seemed to
be such awful cruelty.
Rather than attempt to answer her
directly, her father led her Into the
•erener atmosphere of the Now Testa
ment with Its teaching that one should
love their enemies, and so forth.
The child listened Intently; but evi
dently some big thought was stirring
her brain. At last it found utterance.
With a huge sigh of relief she snuggled
closer in her father's arms, a radiant
smile banishing the cloud from heY
sweet countenance as she murmured:
"Father, God's a great deal !»ettar
now than He used to be. isn't Ha?"
Anger !■ a abort madness.
JAPS AT TIE PASS
Newchwanjr, March 17. —The Japan
ese occupied Tie pass Wednesday at
London, March 17. — The Post's
Shanghai correfpocdeut cables a report
that the Japanese have already oc
cupied Tie pass, the aggressiveness of
the Japanese being too much lor the
bittleworn Russians, who were unable
to make the stand that was expected of
them at the pass. The information is
not given credence. Mauy of the de
feated Russians are trying to escape to
WILL NOT SUGGEST PEACE.
Takahira Says Initiative Cannot Be
Looked for From Japan.
Washington, D. C. —With Mukden as
his new baso. Marshal Oyania has de
termined to push northward in the
direction of Harbin with a large part
Of liis army, in the effort to follow
up bis recent victory as rapidly as pos
sible and accomplish his one great pur
pose of administering a really crush
ing defeat to General Kuropatkin. This
is from an authoritative source, and
accurately sets forth the present pro
gram of the Tokio war office.
After receiving several cablegrams
telling of the victories of the Japanese
around Mukden. M. Takahira. the Jap
anese minister, although the host at a
brilliant reception Friday night, was
an early visitor at the state depart
ment, where he had half an hour's
conversation with Secretary Hay. As
he was leaving the department, the
minister was asked what effect, in his
opinion, the battle of Mukden would
have upon the ultimate issue of the
"For us it is but a chapter in the
great conflict, though a most important
one." the minister replied. "It is dif
ficult for me to say how much the
battle of Mukden will contribute to
wards pence, for overtures of peace
must necessarily come from the other
"Will your government suggest
peace, in the light of Oyania's vic
tory?" the minister was asked as he
entered bis carriage.
"The initiative., I repeat, can scarce
ly be looked for from Tokio," he re
HEIRS TO A LARGE FORTUNE.
Residents of Idaho Are Members of
E. West, who has been a resident
of I.atah county, Idaho, for the past
10 years, and Mrs. R. A. McDowell
and .Miss Games, who have lived here
about a year, have, after 15 years of
waiting, established their identity and
will soon come into inheritances esti
mated at between $4,000.0n(i and $5,
Mr. West is the father of .1. B. \Y<st.
register of the Lewiston land office,
and also of T. B. West, village attor
ney at Kendrlck, and R. C. West, an
attorney practicing here.
This immense inheritance cornea
from the estate of Thomas Whitaker.
an Knulish nobleman, who dropped
dead about 40 years ago at the a^e of
55 years. He was a bachelor, and at
the time of his death had an estate
appraised at $i«s,nno,onn, composed
mostly of the townsite of New London.
This land was sold by the government
and the receipts placed at Interest for
the heirs, in case any should ever
chum it, and the estate is now esti
mated at $200,000,000.
Vancouver Barracks, Wash., March
17. —Smarting under the sting of his
disgrace and suffering from an incura
ble disease, former Lieutenant Francis
M. Boone, who was ordered discharged
from the United States army yesterday
on the charges of desertion, absence
without leave, nonpayment of debts
and conduct unbecoming an officer to
day made an deliberate suicidal in
tent, it is reported, and before recap
ture was shot and probably fatally in
jured. Boone was being conducted
from the guardhouse to the garrison
hospital, when, without warning he
broke away and started to run. He
was ordered to halt, but paid no atten
tion to the command, and the guards
opened fire. One bullet out of the five
fired at the prisoner took effect in the
head, above the right ear, and passed
under the scalp to a point above the
It is now definitely stated that Em
peror Nicholas has approved the decis
ion of the council of war to send Grand
Duke Nicholas Nicholaievitch to re
place General Kuropakin as the best
means of putting a stop to the intrigues
and jealousies among generals of the
army, both at St. Petersburg and at
the front. General Soukhomlinoff will
be chief of staff.
Senator Van de Vanter 111.
Seattle, March 15.—State Senator
A. T. Vau de \>nter, who has been
seriously ill f or several weeks was
very low last night. His physicians
say he may survive the day, but can
not live much longer.
I Hospice of St. Gothard Burned.
There still lives at Bridgeport Con
nectiout, at a ripe age. a lady who S"
brought joy into hundreds of horn
throughout the English-speak in ZTu*
All classes of people sing Miss Oroshv
secular and sacred songs. The ohildL
in the public schools use 5,"
Music in the Air;" their parents k,L'
and love "Hazel Dell," "Rosalie t! T
Prairie Flower," and others whivJ
were immensely popular twenty-fl*.
years ago. But Fanny Crosby is £2
known by her hymns, such as "Be»n.
the Perishing," "I am Thine !
Lord," "Nearer the Cross," "p as " v
Not, O Gentle Saviour," "BIL J
Assurance" and "Some Day the Silv™
Chord will Break." The first of he r
hymns was written in 1864, and since
that date she has composed over eight
thousand, under various noms d«
The gifted singer has been blind
since she was six [years old, but
through marvellous difficulties has
overcome great obstacles. For twentj
three years she was a pupil and teacher
in the New York Institution for the
Blind. There she met and knew Henry
Clay, General Scott, .lames K. Polk
Governor Seward, and ex-President
Cleveland, who has been her firm
friend for fifty years. Miss Crosby
has known many of the greatest
musical and literary men and women,
including all the famous composers of
sacred music. Recently she has writ
ten up the entire story of .her life into
an autobiorgaphy, which promises to
be widely read when it'is published.
Miss Crosby has a wonderful mem
ory. She composes an entire hymn be
fore having any of it written down ou
paper. ()nce she wrote forty songs be
fore hax ing any of them recorded; and
at the end she could recalPevery one
On March 26 the churches of
America propose to build Miss Crosby
a monument of gratitude, which will
be more enduring than any marble
shaft. They propose to honor her life
work while she still lives and is able
to appreciate the kiud thought of those
wlO sing and love her songs. Hund
leds of churches are preparing special
programs of song to use for that pur
pose; and a unique feature of the plan
is a large >jift of honor as a testim Dnial
to Miss Crosby's public service. They
thus hope to recognize in a fitting
manner her eighty-fifth birthday.
FIGHT TO THE BITTER END.
Russia to Raise New Army—Rojest-
vensky to Fight Togo.
St. Petersburg, March 14.—The im
mediate answer of the Russian gov
ernment to the defeat at Mukden is the
announcement that a new army will
be raised and the forces in the far
east reorganised; that Vice Admiral
Rojestvensky will he ordered to sail
on and try conclusions with Togo and
that the war will be* prosecuted to the
This is the present temper of EJmper
or Nicholas and bis dominant advisers,
voiced in an official announcement that
the position of Russia is unchanged,
;iiK] that the initiative for peace can
only come from Japan. Should the
island empire choose to tender "mod
erate" terms and recognize its adver
sary as the power in the far east,
peace could be easily arranged; but
the voice of her diplomacy in various
parts of the world indicates that she
is not ready to do this, and the Rus
sian government, with the full magni
tude of the disaster at Mukden still
undetermined, but with the 1905 cam
paign seemingly already hopelessly
compromised, retreat to Harbin ine
vitable, and Vladivostok practically
lost, declares that the time has not yet
come when Russia can be forced to
It is reported that the dispatch of
two new army corps, including the
Fourteenth, from Poland, and several
smaller units, has already been deter
mined upon, and that plans for further
mobollzation are under discussion.
Peace Talk in the Air.
Rut while this is the official attitude,
nothing but peace talk is heard in 8t-
Petersburg. The difficulties of mobili
zation on a large scale will be enor
mous; in fact, it is stated in some
quarters that it will be impossiole.
Nevertheless, it might be accom
The Texas legislature has passed a
bill levying al% per cent tax on the
gross earnings of all the railroads op
erating in the state. The legislature
is also dealing with a stringent anti
pass bill, against which numerous pro
tests have been filed. Common car
riers are also considered in the Gra
ham bill making conductors of passen
ger trains peace officers with authority
to arrest disorderly passengers. A
sub-committee has been intrusted with
a bill requiring railroads to maintain
switch lights between sunset and sun
rise at all spurs of the main line.
Though traffic conditions were some
what better on the New York subway
and elevated systems Sunday, Ue ser
vice waR far from being normal. There
were a few minor accidents as a re
sult of the inexperience of the motor
men and guards.