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I r^OISJSLEU-* I.E COrylTE. f © FROM BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. ' St hoOOOQOQOQOOOOOOOOQOQOQ&S. Perhaps I had better explain at once that it was myself who be stowed upon him the title, to which his only claim was the grandeur of his manner and his foreign accent. It was at a "jumble" sale in be half of some charity or other that I first made his acquaintance. He pushed his way through the jostling, elbowing crowd of would-be pur chasers to the hat stall at which I was selling tall, old man, with a gaunt, erect figure, clad in the shab biest of tail coats, that seemed to have been made for a person half his size, the sleeves reaching only i about half way down his arms. "Mademoiselle is surprised to see me here," he said, with a low bow and an apologetic smile, as he re moved the shabby cloth cap he I wore; "but I thought I might per- ! haps get a leetle present for a friend ■ who Is in what you call adverse cir cumstances. The days have been when it was not here I would come I for a present for a friend; -but I ■ myself" — here he shrugged his! shoulders expressively and heaved a | deep sigh, adding the next moment, I with a sudden change of tone and manner, "Well, well, we must not complain! Things might always be Worse!" ■■'.^»j ,r . r \ Meantime he was examining, in the most leisurely and minute way, j the hats I had placed before him, | trying them on one after the other! slowly and deliberately; for, as he j informed me in an aside, his friend's ' head was about the size of his own. | When he had at last selected a hat | —a tall one— he thrust his hand into his greasy trouser pocket with an air of lordly magnificence, and drew out a sixpenny piece, which he laid on the table. ... "Never mind the change!" he said, in a tone at once jauntily reckless and magnanimously dignified, not having apparently caught my re mark that sixpence was the price of the hat "never mind the change — it is for a good cause. Will made moiselle take down my address? Ah, you do not send! That is a pitty. In that case" — here he paused, and wrinkled his brow in perplexed re- i flection— "in that case, I shall have ! to put it on .myself. Mademoiselle understands that I could not carry it. Good day." And, placing his new purchase on his head, he strode j away dignified and erect. It was not until some months later that I came across him again. 'I ' had advertised for a studio. As my ! home was in the suburbs, I wanted ' a room with a good light in a cen- j tral part of the town, where I should j be within reach of possible buyers j and possible pupils Among those j who replied to my advertisement was j M. le Comte. He did not, of course, i sign himself so, and I did not recog- ; nize him from his letter, though the grandiose tone in which it was writ ten corresponded with the magnifi cent manner of my friend of the jumble sale; but almost the moment I saw him I knew him again. The address given in his letter was that of a side street in a busy neighbor hood, where there were many offices and studios After mounting three stairs, I found on ! the third floor a door bearing a brass plate with the inscription: ' M. ANDRE PICOTON, Professor of the French Language. I knocked, and after a few mo ments the door was opened by .no less a person than M. le Comte him self, wearing a tall hat no doubt the very one I had sold him, looking none the better for its three months wear since He removed it at once, however, on seeing me, and made a deep bow. "Ah, the lady whom I accommodate with an apartment as studio!" he ex claimed politely, when I had ex plained my errand; and turning back into the narrow, dark lobby, he called out in a dignified, authorita tive tone, "Janett, Janett!" As no one, however, appeared in answer to his call, he returned to the door, saying with an apologetic Smile; . . .- • "I fear I must myself be your cicerone my good Janett must have gone out. Will mademoiselle give herself the trouble to follow me?" As he spoke he took . two or three steps along the lobby, and with a lofty air flung wide open a door on the left hand "This," he said in a gracious tone, as of a person con ferring a favor "this is my drawing room, my salon, which I resign to mademoiselle. "X always like to ac commodate the ladies place aux dames is my motto." I cast a look J around the room. It was small, and absolutely bare, save for two wooden chairs, one of which wanted a leg, and a small wooden table For the rest, the win dow looked to the north, and the col oring of the walls was tolerably good. The room would suit my pur pose well enough, andi I said so. "But," I added,"l should not like to deprive you of your drawing room." "Mademoiselle is very good," he re plied. "It gives me pleasure to oblige her. And for this room" here he Ehrugged his shoulders and elevated his eyebrows "as mademoiselle sees, It is not in use. Madame does not re ceive for some years; she is what you call — confined to her room for the most part. The salon is altogether at the service of made moiselle." This with a low bow, and an outward movement of the arms, expressive of a magnanimous generosity that disclaimed all merit, and would not even accept thanks. - To speak of such a vulgar thing as money seemed actually indelicate, if not insulting. Still it had to be done; so, as delicately as I could, I hinted that I should like to know what rent was expected. "Ah, as to that, mademoiselle will excuse mc l do not interfere in such matters. But here comes my good Janett— you '• ladies will be able to settle everything between you." '.>. As he was speaking I had heard the sound of a very slow.very heavy Btep approaching up the stairs; and there now entered the room an old woman, clad in an extremely shab by bonnet and woolen shawl, and carrying a market basket. She was a large-made, large-boned woman, who must have been tall before the weight of years of .toil had bent her back into the shape of a bow. ,Her head shook slightly from side * to lide, and her face, which was heavy and large-featured, wore the dull, __*st 3 SAINT PAUL DAILY GtOBSi" SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER v_9, 1895.— TWENTY BABES. patient expression of an overworked horse. "Janett," said M, le Comte, "I have promised to accommodate mademoiselle here with the use of the salon." "Hoots, get awa' wi* : your French ified havers!" exclaimed the old woman, who spoke, with a broad Scotch accent, and in a slow, deep, almost masculine" v^lae, that con trasted strangely with.. monsieur's light and Jaunty .tones. "I never ken what he means' when he gets on to his French?' she -add_^.,turn ing to me. "Was. it a " studio you was wanting, mem?" r. ,\ ';~ ; **jjj" Behind her back, iV while she ; was speaking, monsieur was. siji-jVgging his shoulders* ' and .looking at me j with an amused, indulgent expres sion on his face. ,•'.■.*-'''.''*. J"j#i,"fV "A privileged pairson, you. gee, mademoiselle — a privileged pairs ■n." he said to me in a deprecating aside, which was hot overheard ?by the j deaf old woman. "Well, ladies," he j added, louder, "I think I shall just I leave you to settle the affaire of v the nation." - And with a bow to" the* he* .walked quickly out of the room. "Ay, it's weel for theme that- can - get ither folk to dae* a' thing for them," the old woman muttered- with | a short, deep laugh as she retreated from the room. And then, turning k ; to me, she asked abruptly: .r^-fv. "What rent was ye thinking to gi'e for the room?" ; iy;~vv\ . Evidently there was no reluctance here to speak of money matters. However, I found her reasonable.and even modest, in her demands,and, we soon came to terms. About the cleaning of the room and the light ing of the fire there seemed at first to be some difficulty. : : J~:^ '•■■ '-■ "You see, I'd dae it mysel'," she said, "but I'm aye oot in the morn ing the noo. I've gotten wark frag Wilson, the upholsterer*" in -West street there fower shillings a week j for cleaning oot the premises, and as j mony sticks as I can carry, awa' fae | the yaird. It's no' that bad .pay; j but I'm getting ower auld noo for work— getting ower auld." And her voice died away in a low mut ter, which I could not follow. *Mi£i i "You deserve a rest now," I said, in order to say something. ./,.' "Ay, that I dae!" she answered. "But I can na get it. I maun work, j I maun work, and a' for " And she | gave a bitterly expressive v nod of her j head toward the wall which separ ! ated the room we were in from the . next, while once more her voice | trailed off into the low muttered ' monologue which seemed" "to be fea»- I bitual. with her. "But"— suddenly | waking up to a consciousness of my J presence— "l'll see that your room's j cleaned and your fire* llchted for' ; you— never you fash yoursel' aboot j it! If I can na dae it, he maun jist ! dae it; he may as weel earn the saut Ito his parritch!" , ; 5 . >,,, ~-,-> , I Naturally, I wondered very much i who he was, but concluded it could : not possibly be M. le Comte who .was . meant. However, before many weeks ■ were over, during which I had been I comfortably installed in my new I j studio, I was to make' the discov- | cry that it was no other" than he.- I Coming into the room one morning I earlier than usual, I found that my j fire was not yet lighted. 'While' I i was looking about for matches there j was a knock at the door, 1 which was I followed by the entrance of monsieur I i himself. * -" "Mademoiselle is early astir this | morning," he said, as he made a deep bow with all his usual dignity j and jauntiness of mariner; in spite of the fact that in one hand he car ried an iron "blower," "and " y in the j other a shovel; while from undergone arm there protruded a pair of bel lows, and from under the other a hearth brush "My good Janett is out this morning, so I must "myself ren der mademoiselle the little service of lighting her fire." I offered to light it myself, but he was quite indignant at . the sugges tion. "Impossible, impossible— could not permit mademoiselle to soil her fair fingers," he exclaimed, with a deprecating outward wave of the hands containing the shovel and the blower, which dislodged the bellows and brush fromi under his arms, and caused them to fall with a crash to the ground ; , _ "I have much experience with this work these last years," he said, with a sigh, as he proceeded to light the fire in a methodical way, "though once—" Here another deep sigh cut short his sentence. "But, madame, you see, Is delicate. I rise and light the fire in her room every morning." "Ah, you are a good husband!" I exclaimed. "Well, I might be better— might be better!" was the reply, in a tone of dignified humility. "But I try to do my duty at any rate. I try to( do my duty— and no man can do more!" Here there was* a return to the light | and jocular tone, which in Ml- le Comte alternated so strangely with the stately and dignified. "Well, mademoiselle, I think you will do now. I shall leave you to your med itations." And, gathering up his miscellaneous belongings, he retreat ed to the door, and there made me one of his deepest bows. "By the by," he lingered in the doorway, "I hope mademoiselle is not disturbed J by my pupils. You see, in these cvil 1 days I am obliged to give private tuition in my own language.;, Ah, that is well," as I reassured him -oh that point. "I know that 'any dis turbance is apt to interfere with the divine inflatus." ". ; ' ,-. ~ ;' Perhaps it is needless to : say that, during the weeks which followed;' I suffered no disturbance whatever from monsieur's pupils. They must have come at hours when was not at the studio— they came at all!— for I never heard their steps. -"Once a day I heard the slow, heavy tread of the good Janett, as she retired from cleaning out the upholsterer's' premises; once # a day, the light, jaunty steps of monsieur, setting out I for his constitutional; but no other?* not even those of a messenger boy. One morning, indeed, when I arrived at my usual hour, I found a butcher's : boy at the door, and monsieur him self — no less a personage — taking ■. something out of his basket—some • thing gray and soft, I knew riot what until monsieur himself explained in , his light, yet stately way. '^j y, ;'~ ; 'A delicacy for madame/.you see," . he said. "She cannot eat-your''En j glish rosblf— nor I either; we require [ something light and ;Z delicate: ; If. 1 mademoiselle suffers at all from the j stomach, I would advise her to buy j a sheep's bag." '•> And he held up a "gray; thing in his hand. "Ah,: stop a minute"— as the boy was moving away from the door — "here 'Ha' a bawbee for yourself— it's a long stair to come up." As he spoke, he plunged his hand into his pocket with the. grandest ■ air of careless : generosity, but evidently without finding) what he wanted. "Strange," he exclaimed, as he tried one pocket after the other. "I seem to) have no small change today. Perhaps made moiselle would be so kind? Just' a copper— such a long stair— thank you! And be sure. to tell Mr. Smith" —to the boy— "that I am much obliged to him for sending it. - You ; turning to me — "I generally carry up any little thing like this myself in a piece of paper— the stairs are so long. But Mr. Smith has been obliging enough to send— a very obliging man, Mr. Smith." Evidently the visits of the message boys were not frequent at mon sieur's. The little episode set me thinking of "madame," the delicate wife of whom I had heard so much and saw nothing. I wondered what she could be like, how she managed to pass her day, and above all where she lived. As far as I could judge,, the mansion of M. le Comte ; Consisted of only one other* room be sides the salon .which I occupied— at' least I knew there was only one other door besides my 'own opening ";6ff the ' little narrow lobby. Did monsieur and madame. and the good , Janett all Inhabit the same room? j I wondered; but during the winter that I occupied the salon I got no nearer; solving the mystery. '.". The following spring I went to Parid in order to study in the studio of a celebrated master, arid so lost sight entirely of monsieur for sev eral months. It was on a bright day early In the autumn of the next year that, as I happened to be passing through a quiet terrace in the suburb in which I lived! my attention was attracted toward the garden of one of the houses by seeing a small crowd of message boys- and message' girls gazing into it through .the rail ings. At the windows of the house a number of faces of women and chil dren were eagerly looking out to ward the lawn, on which an old man was going through a number of ex traordinary movements apparently meant for dancing— and skipping, advancing and retreating, crossing his feet and then uncrossing them, sidling and tiptoeing, bowing and bending. I could not be mis taken in that green and greasy tail coat (greener and greasier than; -when I last had seen it), in that rusty tall hat 'of jumble-sale celebrity, and, above all, in that light, erect figure, and jaunty, yet dignified bearing— it was M. le Comte. ; Just as I stooped to look on, the windows were thrown open and a handful of coppers was flung out. Monsieur stooped and gathered up the coins, preserving his balance and his dignity in a way which, con sidering his age and the attitude, was truly wonderful. - "Good morning, M. Picoton," I said, placing myself in his way as he stepped out of the garden gate, looking flushed with his exertions. "Ah, mademoiselle!" he exclaimed in a tone of pleased ' recognition. . "1" | am glad to see you agin." And he j removed the tall hat and gave me one of the deep bow's I remembered so well. "I have just been giving j these young people there a dancing j lesson," he added, in a careless, off hand tone. "It is terrible to see how I the art of Terpsichore is neglected in this barbarous country!" Of course, I agreed with him, and I then proceeded to question him as to j how he and "madame" were get ting on. I learned that they were still in the old place, and that mad j ame .was very poorly, "confined to i her bed these last three days," he said. I promised to go to see her, and I kept my promise. ..It was not without some feeling of excitement and curiosity at the pros pect of seeing the mysterious "mad ame" that I mounted the stairs to her dwelling the following day. The outer door of monsieur's mansion stood open, as it generally used to. do, and I noticed, as I passed into the dark little passage, that the brass plate had disappeared. Evi dently monsieur had discontinued his private tuition in French. I knocked at the inner .door, within which I had never as yet penetrated. There was no reply, and it was not until I had two or three times re peated my knock that a deep voice which I seemed to recognize as that of : the good Janett, called, "Come in." I turned the handle and entered. The door, as Jt opened, just grazed the foot of a large wooden tent bed, which concealed the view of any thing else in the room. So I had walked direct into a sleeping room: The discovery for a moment made me hesitate; but by and by I took courage .to advance a step or two I and look around me. Evidently the I room was used for other purposes besides a sleeping apartment; op-' posite me as I stood was the win dow, a press in which some plain coarse dishes were set out, while under the press v was a sink with j taps for water. Another step | brought me round the corner of the j bed in view of the fireside. As I J stepped forward, there suddenly j started up from the wooden arm cha*r by the fire no less a person than M le Comte, though looking strangely unlike himself. Round his head, entirely concealing one eye there was -tied a rather dirty red cotton handkerchief, while the one eye visible glared at me with a rather startled look. Evidently I had awoke him out of a doze in his chair. He recovered himself almost at once, however. ""' - "Ah, mademoiselle!" he exclaimed bowing with his usual dignity and nonchalance. "Delighted to see you It is not often you honor us with a visit." jl replied that I had come to ask for • madame." "But I am. sorry to see "Sled ° U ' t0 °' are suffering „ see ; "A trifle, a trifle!" he replied light- ? 8 h^ U f ! * thou -"-'- also somewhat shamefacedly. "An accident in the ce PaVem . ent so s »PPery-the au thorities ought really •• He had gradually recovered lis usual self-sat . isfaction and dignity of manner while he was speaking, and had reached the stage of righteous Indignation when he was here suddenly interrupted -•"Ahcident!" exclaimed a low 'gruff voice from the bed, with "a short, iron ical laugh-"ahcident! rr m thinking ; you might as weel tell the truth, and say it was whisky!" ,^I did not need to look toward the bed' * i in order to know that the speaker, Was the* good Janett. As I. glanced '^toward! her j«he was > leaning forward •""lm her elbow, her head 7 supported- on one hanfl.whlle the other,: with .its; expression of age, hard work : and ; en durance,-'lay out on the patch-work quilt., on her large, heavy-featured ' . f&re! over which straggled a few stray -locks of --"gray ,- hair ; from •. underneath ■ the nighcap she wore, Illness had thrown an ashen-gray hue, and had drawn t some' 'fresh, deep lines.-" She looked j Very old, very frail, very , weary. , >.-.;. :•; "."* "It's! aye the drink when he gets ony money," she went on In her strange, deep voice, like a hoarse and muffled murmur. ."I never lets him get ony when 'I'm weel; but yesterday he gaed oot and got some— l dinna ken: hoo." (Here monsieur.; cast a * hasty look at, me, which ; I Interpreted as 'a request not", to tell anything I knew.) "And*- ye see!" . . She pointed as she ■spoke, with an expressive ; gesture, 'first at the hankerchlef around mon sieur's head, and then at the floor be side his chair, *. where lay • his hat— the hat— bruised, and bent, and battered, almost | past .recognition. "His ■ guld hat!".: she exclaimed,: ln a tone of the deepest distress. "If it hadna been for the drink! But it's aye the drink that's been his ruin!" And she sank back on •the bed; muttering to herself. Here was a blow for the dignified M. le Comte! At first I did not care to look at him; but when I"' did ven ture, half guiltily, to glance in his direction, he was standing with his 1 back to the fire, his arms folded, and his head bent.'-with an air of humility, indeed, but it was the humility of a man owning a trivial error in judg ment, rather* than that of one con fessing; himself guilty of a degrading vice. ' . r -V .••'■' ;• "True; true,' my good Janett," he murmured," with a gentle sadness. Then raising his head, he gazed fixedly before, him Into space with his one vis ible eye. "If it had not been for that I should 'be.' in a very different po sition today!" 1 Here he heaved a deep sigh, adding immediately afterwards, with a sudden change of tone to the light and cheerful. "Well, well, we all have our little fallings, no doubt, even the best of us. None of us . is infallible, ' not even mademoiselle her self, I dare say!" And he laughed lightly, i , *; - 1 turned to the good Janett, and ask ed her about her health. It was "that 'flenzy" ■ that was the matter with her, she told me; and then she trailed .off into a long, muttered list of her ail ments— in her bones, headache, weakness, g She was not "fit to stand;" but she -must go out to her work next day, ; otherwise she would lose it alto gether. ■ "* . ' : .--; -*■'- "I maun wark, ye see," she said. "He. does naething." i . ... ".Yes, she must work— the lion's provider," here put In monsieur cheer fully, as If the position of "lion's pro vider^.', were brie to be grateful for. \ ! JJ 'And madame?" I asked. She is ill too?" ; ';;v ■•.;;■';" "Yer mamaw?" queried the deaf old woman. , "Is she ill tae?" Is't the ' flenzy ■?".'- ."•'.'.',.',' **■-.; ; \ '. "I mean madame— Mme. Picoton," - I explained. .;..' " " . "Eh, what— what's she saying?" she ! asked, looking toward monsieur. ' ' But he did t not seem to hear the question. He had seated himself on his chair again, with his back turned towards us, t and was now busily en gaged trying to bend out the bruises in his hat. •'•■.'-^.'.' - :; ; ; !"." '^ "Monsieur here told me she was 111," I put in. . r ...^'. .'■'• , ;'; ; .Jfr-. : -.""v ~ : <i; :^;^ "Hoots, ye might as weel call him by his'ain name!" she ejaculated. "He's plain Andra j Plggott. I never, gave |in with his '■-> Frenchified nonsense — I couldna see what guld" it was %to dae us— he was aye for giving French lessons— lessons, . and him nae mair French nor you and me! And that brass plate! ; . I only got one-and sax-pence for ft when I , sellt it,- and it cost, -I'm -sure- — Her ■ voice went trailing on in a low monologue; but I did not follow any further. 'I was re flecting on what I had just heard. So M. le Comte was no Frenchman after all! The discovery did not surprise me so much as It would have done when I first made his acquaintance, for it had struck me more than once that his French accent was by |no means so marked as it used to be. I was won dering whatever could have induced him to assume, a French name and ac cent, when my reflections were inter rupted by Janett asking abruptly: ;• "Wha did he tell you was ill?" "Madame— Picoton— mean his wife." ' . : " "His wife!" and the old woman raised herself up in bed, and stared at me in amazement— "his wife! Why, that's me!'"- "<'*"'' -.";•- ''';"- .-; * " "You! | Oh, I - thought— l understood —"-But I \ could get," no furiher; I could not tell her that I had thought she was the servant; I could not tell him that he had lied. . I, ventured to steal a furtive glance at him. j ; To ; all. appearances he was quite unconcerned by the revelation which had just been made. He shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and shook his head.' "One of my follies, you see, madem oiselle," he said lightly, in a voice too low to reach the old woman's deaf ear —"one of my youthful follies. Young men will be young men, you know. But . she's a faithful soul," he added condescendingly— "a faithful soul." ; - So I had at last unraveled the mys tery! Afterward, when I was alone, I laughed . heartily to think that "madame"' who "did not receive," who was "delicate".* apd "kept her room," should turn out to be no other than the good Janett! I saw her frequently during the fol lowing weeks, during which I was once more installed in the salon with my easel and my canvases, and gradually learned, from . the rambling mono logues In which she often Indulged, the main events of monsieur's life. As a boy he had been page, and afterward footman, to 'a. lady who traveled a good deal; then he had been valet to a delicate gentleman, who usually win tered in the ' south of : France.- After leaving this situation, which he lost through the enemy which afterward pursued him through life— of drink —he led a restless life, full of changes and vicissitudes. ■ At .one - time he formed one of a band of strolling act ors ; then he was gold digger in Cali fornia; then* he "returned home, , and was for a while on the police . force, during * which ' time he married; after ward he started a restaurant of his own, which failed; and then he acted as waiter in some one else's. But each, new trial always ended the same way. "Ay, the drink has been his ruin," ' the old woman always wound up, while her head shook sadly from side to side. "And noo Is jist takes care - that he. doesnaget ony. i But you see I ha'e to wark . mysel' — I ha'e to wark!" Poor old soul, It was : very hard to have to work in her frail old age,: with ; her "rheumatics" and her shak ing head and trembling limbs! But she never missed a day. Every day I heard her slow, heavy step, which seemed to me to be dally growing slower . arid heavier, V coming up f. the ■ long stair as she returned from work. " Once I ventured to say to her that I thought her daughters ought not :to let her work (for i knew that she had . two daughters, who were well married, In the town), but she turned on me quite Indignantly, and told me that, so long as she could do "a hand's turn" herself," she would |be "beholden Jto naebody." And* I gathered ; that '; the daughters, who 'had made good mar • riages during : " the ' palmy, days of the restaurant, were Inclined to be asham ed of the old people. \. I was glad to be able to help her a - little by the. rent of; my: studio, and by the weekly ; sum . I. gave her for ; cleaning and'- fire-fighting. I always , paid • the . money;* into . her own ; hands' I . ' ■.:■'-,_, :■ ■ ■ s. -.....- - ■■■- ...-, s-r.'r" 5 . on Saturday afternoons; and,, l .felt sure": that* she away.: and I felt sure that she laid away half of It at • leasts for ? the time *; when s she y should |. be able to do- "a hand's turn" . no lon • ger. But ' one Saturday afternoon * she, . had' not come In at her usual; hour; -. and after : tapping • at my door, mon sieur (as I must continue to call him) entered ; with, many bows and apolo gies, to say that there were "a (few. purchases" to; be made for the next / day, and •If It * were "quite the -. same .for mademoiselle," etc.,— ln short, he wanted me to pay him. In a moment .of thoughtlessness I did so— I have never ceased to regret it. ._. ..**; ; t,-"r'_ ."*T. I~ stayed j at the studio much : longer ■. than usual ".that day; the . light had long gone; but *, there was a good fire : burning, and after I had ceased -"at tempting to paint. ,It was much more. I pleasant , to rest on a comfortable seat . before - the j blaze than to set out Into . the r storm of . wind ; and rain outside. .When at last the fire sank low, • and. Ii prepared. to go, the room was-al" most in complete darkness. As I de scended the stairs I met Janett slowly toiling upwards, her back almost bent double. She was looking very tired; . .' some : loose gray hairs : were blown -about her face by. the wind, and her ■head-shook, more,, than usual. . After :a '■ few words of greeting, . I was i pass- : ing on, when she stopped me with** the question: j. , ,-. ■".'"Were ; you forgetting that this ■: is* Saturday?:.' .■".'.- , . - •-■ .-*% i "Saturday!" I exclaimed, in surprise. "Oh yes, I see— rent! I gave >It to i monsieur.".'^ . .. a ..- - "You gl'ed it to him!" And she .fixed eyes on my face with a look of sur prise and alarm. "Is he in the hoose the noo?" she asked eagerly. "No," I answered, for I had heard •him go out a long time before, and. I 1 knew he had not yet come in. She placed her rough and wrinkled old hand on her left side, and stood., silent ; for; a few moments, breathing hard, while her poor head shook pain fully. * . " * -■ "Eh!" she exclaimed by and by, with a long-drawn sigh, "I was feared that something ". wae gae wrang the . day! Lassie, lassie, what for did ye gi'e him the siller?" And she turned, and be gan slowly descending the stairs. "" .'■' My conscience smote me now for what . I had done; but ;it was too .'late for repentance to do any good. I fol lowed the old woman, and laid my hand on her arm, urging her to go home and v make herself a cup of tea monsieur would turn up soon all right, ; I said, and she was far too" tired to go out again. But she shook me off, and continued to descend. "I maun gae seek him," she said stubbornly. "He'll be awa' drinking at" the Three Bells." ' !' The Three Bells was a public house situated in a side 'street no great dis tance away".' Short though "the distance was, however, it took the old woman a long time to make her way against the strong wind that, blew in her face, fluttering the ends of her old '.shawl, and flapping her skirts about her stiff old legs. Every now and then 'she would stop to take breath, pressing her hand to her side. . ' .".' As neared the foot of the .street in , which. the Three Bells was situated I noticed a small crowd of people gath ered round the railings at the corner," apparently, gazing down into the area. A - sudden thought flashed into my mind, .casting a chill over me. - I glanced at Janett to see If it had oc curred to her. As I looked at her, she stopped suddenly, and stood still for an Instant peering eagerly before her, her hand pressed hard to her side. Then she moved on again toward the little crowd, walking . more rapidly than I could have believed possible. V\ '''-' . I said there were railings around the corner*, but in front, where the block of buildings at the corner ' faced the - main -* street, there was an opening in the railings -at the top of a broad flight of steps. leading down to a shop in the basement. From the windows -of this, shop, which were filled with j small- articles such as penknives, cork ' screws and nutmeg graters, and con-. tamed a notice to the effect that -^Ev ery 'article in this shop" was 6^d, a flood of light was pouring onto the steps that glistened with the rain, and onto a pool of something red that lay in the area at the foot. Somehow, I '■ never doubted for an Instant— l seemed to know at once what had happened; but I questioned one of the bystanders j aside. Yes, I learned, there had been . an accident an old man, evidently the worse of drink, had fallen down the steps. They had taken him to the hos pital. .- V '..••-.'.- I turned from the speaker to look for Janett. She- had asked no questions of any one, but was walking down 'the steps Into the area— heavily, indeed, but more quickly than I had ever seen : her walking before. I watched, her, and saw her stoop to pick up some thing in the dark corner of the area. Then she made her way up the steps again, slowly and with apparent diffi culty, carrying something under her shawl. When she reached the top she crossed the pavement to the. street lamp that stood a few paces away; and turning her back upon the crowd, she •drew from beneath her shawl the ob ject she carried. When I reached her side she was wiping it with a corner of her shawl In a dazed, mechanical way, while her poor head shook more than I had ever seen it do before. Befouled though" the thing was with mud, and deformed with innumerable oends and bruises, I reco__.ized at once the tall hat of M. le Comte, for it somehow seemed to bear about it . that air of dignity and * Importance of which no amount of poverty and humiliation could ever deprive its owner. ■. * The poor old woman had evidently recognized it too, for, as she kept strok ing It with the corner of her shawl, ap parently only half conscious of what she was doing, she murmured every now and then in a deep, hoarse voice— "Ay, it's him it's hlmsel!" And then In a lower tone, "I aye said the drink wad be his ruin." - - There were no cries, no tears. A cas ual observer I might have thought her callous; but to me, who knew hc-r, the stunned look in the heavy old face, the painfully shaking head, the trembling hands, the breath that came in short gasps, all told another tale. : I called a cab and bade the man drive us to the hospital. As we drove along the old woman sat beside me in a sort, of stupefied sllence,constantly smooth ing" the poor battered hat with the cor ner of her shawl, and only once or. twice muttering in her deep, low voice, • "I aye said the drink wad be his ruin!" At the hospital we found that our worst fears were realized; It was: in deed M; le Comte who lay, stiff and silent, but dignified as ever, in the mortuary. ;He had died almost Imme diately on his admission .into the wards. ; While I was questioning nurses . and \ other officials the - old woman had .kept silently at my- side, clasping the old hat closely to her be neath her shawl, and gazing. before her. with a vacant, stupefied look; but when . •we found ourselves once more back In' the cab, driving through the streets to' .her empty home, suddenly a short, hard sob seemed to rend ' Its way up ward from her old heart, shaking her from head to- foot. ' - "Eh, ma woman," she cried, "what for did you gi'e him yon siller?" ,N "That was all, but the words, in a tone of bitter pain In. which they were uttered, rang in my ears for many long. • days afterward. »• . A day or two later M. le Comte was '• laid |In ■ his grave without the help \of the parish, his daughters, whom I had at i once informed of what had hap pened, defraying the expenses. And the world went on without ; him just the same as ever, save for the "faithful; soul" whom It - had been one ooff f his "youthful follies" ;*; to wed. * She,: it seemed to me, - grew ; dally older and • more- frail in her appearance, slower j and > heavier in ; her movements. She did not -return to her work at the up holsterer's premises.. <„.><** i '" 'I dinna need to wark noo," she said, when I -remarked on the fact to her.vs.:,. -■■•'-* y.:*-'-'- '■'."-•■■'•;,'■ V • ". :" .'" 5*5, The l spirit which . had v borne her" up during ail these months and years past, enabling p her to * continue toiling in spite of * feeble health.- and increasing • age, seemed quite to have left her now. She did not care to exert herself at ail. • Often, when in .- going to >< or, : coming from my studio I looked Into her room, I would find her seated on her wooden • arm 5 chair before the fire, tenderly smoothing monsieur's old hat with the corner of ; her apron, while her -head • shook mournfully from side to side. ■>•*■ ,.* Only .a. few weeks later she was • i found seated ■bo . before ; a black fire— dead! her cold hand grasping the old hat. I was absent from home at the time: and on the .very day I returned; to my Studio I met the, men carrying, the long black box down the stairs.. In the room, which had for so long been 1 .' v "-'J' , ■...-.. . GREAT ASTONISHMENT His Preparation Has As •;.;;:• tonished the People. EOS (Elixir of Soap) Is Endorsed by the Press ; of the United States. The ' astonishment that first . swept over the country when. Eos was first introduced has not . subsided. This is ' proved by the testimonials and letters of congratulations received dally. '<- Eos Is splendid for washing dishes and it contains ho soda, ammonia, such as ordinary compounds do. For clean-, • Ing marble, tin pans, brass and milk cans It has no equal. .".■; ■ Eos: is on sale at all groceries; ask • them f for it. Price, 5 cents. to me an" unsolved riddle, the daugh ters were turning over and packing up, with no too reverent hand, the old articles of clothing and furniture, which Somehow still bore about them the look of their late owners, of whom to me they almost seemed a part. Of course, I asked the manner of the poor old woman's death. '. "And the hat?" - I Inquired eagerly, When I had learned all that the daugh ters could tell me. -Did you " ;v "Oh, the hat!" contemptuously ex claimed' the elder woman. "It was fair done. You put it! out with the ashes, did. you not, Mary?" Somehow I had been foolish enough to hope that it had been burled with the "faithful soul." GUIDES i : Are -Not'' 'Always Necessary, bug They Are Often Amusing:. The guide In the familiar parts of continental Europe becomes the drag oman of Greece and Turkey and the nearer East in general, says the Lon don News. He is not, of course, to be confounded with the stately and lordly Kavasse, .the emissary or functionary who is j toled off to conduct favored travelers through dangerous parts of Eastern cities— parts of Jerusalem, for Instance— an uncouth and ill bred Moslem population considers a group" of -traveling Christians a fair mark for the brickbat- and the stone. The Kavasse represents the embassy of some great state, European or oth erwise, and he carries a scimitar, and it" is understood that the power of his embassy and his state is with him. But these are grand visitations, and meant for special occasions, and the ordinary dragoman has nothing to do . with them. The humors of the drago man have not as yet had justice fully done to them. The nearer the drago man goes to speaking fairly good Eng lish, or f French, the more oddly and pleasingly do these humors of speech come out. "Lady and gentlemans," said a Greek dragoman, stopping the , carriage on the way to Pentelicus, "this Is the village where the great Pericles used to be born." A Levan tine dragoman in Constantinople in - formed a group of English travelers that they. must see the church of the Mags. Who on earth were they? It turned out at last that the church was associated with illustrations of the •JMaggl. Another Levantine dragoman, •guiding' his party through the Holy Land, had one way of disposing airily of every question to which he was not quite prepared to give a satisfactory answer. "What ruin is that on the right?" "Oh, nothing; only tome of the Rummuns— of the Rummuns." That time of the Rummuns covered as many difficulties In the way of ex planation as Caleb : Balderstone's ref erence to the fire at Ravenswood cas tle in "The Bride of Lammermoor." On the whole, we are inclined to take an interest in the traveler's guide and to feel a certain gratitude to him. If it were only for the arrivals gener ally late of nights at the screaming Eastern ports, we should hold him in kindly memory. We can do without him, to be sure, in Paris; we can all find our way to Cologne cathedral; the Madonna of the Dresden gallery needs neither introduction nor disquisition and. the grand canal at Venice is our -own. But .we. do not want the life belt on the Thames, and we may want it. ln a white squall off Cape Matapan or a storm off Labrador. So of the traveler's guide. He comes in handy at many a far foreign landing. Let us not say scornful things about him. Cirens Rings AH of a Size. In various ways the circus *-* the past but d th , differs from that of the past, but the ring remains unchanged • ** ls £l Ways 42 feet 9 Inches in diameter Go where you will, search the world from Cuba to . Peru, with diverS deTert'of'^rflr 8^ Caucasus^nd^thf aesert of Sahara and never a circus will you -find without a ring of 42 feet 9 inches in diameter. s xeet BACKACHE. From the Press, New York City Few people have suffered more from pain in' the back than Mrs. Lillie B Newell, of No. 2313 Second Avenue' I\ew York City. For several years she was so afflicted with this distressing malady that she was hardly able to ~et, around, and could do little to care for her. children, which made her suffering all the harder to bear. Her husband, Charles. Newell, who Is a well-known New York optician, tried in every way to find a -remedy for his wife, but no medicine seemed to have the power to remove her pain. * . Mrs. Glynn, - a sister of Mrs. Newell is a professional nurse, and was famil iar with the symptoms of her sister's sickness. Mrs. Newell was away on a visit when a reporter called upon her but Mrs. Glynn, who lives at No. 416 East One hundred and twentieth street told the story of her sister's recovery. I A doctor was called when Mrs. New ell's condition became serious and he prescribed small pink pills, which, in a short time, relieved the woman's pain as no other medicine had done. "After awhile," Mrs. Glynn told the reporter "we learned that the medicine the phy sician "was giving my sister was noth ing more than Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for. Pale People. Knowing by exper ience r how excellent a remedy these pills were, Mrs. Newell bought some at 'a drug store and continued taking them. The effect was most gratifying, for in six months my sister was per fectly well and , the pain- In her back was nothing more, than an unpleasant memory. Both she and I have recom mended the Pink Pills to other people, who have not . failed to find - them all that Is claimed. All the doctors my sister had been treated by, before tak ing the pills, had done her no apparent good." -.'Pink-Pills are sold in boxes (never in loose : form, by the doxen or hundred, and " the public Is cautioned, against numerous imitations sold in this shape) ■at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50, and may be had of all druggists or di rect by mail from Dr. Williams' Medi cine Company, Schenectady, N. Y. . The .'price at = which these Pills ■ are ; sold makes a course of treatment Inexpen sive as. compared with other remedies or medical treatment. . ..--;.. . i _ ___________^rr^TT "^- — i m'-IT, iiV_jl_______7 . .j^^ -| - iiaiii ||^M_ii i^____m mm^nmttWnT^B~~mmT^mWm*^m^m^*m%m^R9^ We Are Sol© Agent* of the Fuller & Warren Co. 's Celebrated - -•■; : i s\*Ty/\JS*\S' X '.. -■■ ;-- ■•-■■,■■-'-'. •■ _____ -*"'-'-- ' STEWART STOVES! "*''' The Standard Stove of the World. ; Four points of superi ority over all others: ._________»__^' — ; [||il^||^^^|| 1/ Largest - m^S^ Heatlll9 1 Constrijction « CTFWART Stove as low as $6.95. If you want a smaller 0 I L IV nil I Stove, our $10 Junior Oak at $6.75 is one of the best lines made. Round Heaters from $3.50 upwards .-. Our line of Stoves is the largest and most complete in the city, and our prices are lower than others ask for inferior grades. i AniFC Are Especially Invited to Inspect Our ___._^__©S_&<3P CROCKERY DEPARTMENT. Our showing of Haviland China in Dinner, Game and Fish Sets is very complete. In Inexpensive Vienna Crockery, our own importations, we are offering an immense assortment in new and artistic designs. v j "'^**--: ; -f i We ask your especial inspection' of our importations in Odd Fancy Pieces in Cups and Saucers, Odd Plates, Jar dinieres, Bisque and Genuine Delph Ware, which we offer at extremely low prices. The latest and most artistic . novelties will be found in our Furniture, Drapery and Carpet Depart ments. ? Our stock is the only complete new stock of House Furnishings in the city, and consists entirely of this Fall's designs. *" ' ■"- :' . : SMITH & FARWELL CO. COMPETE ItOUS^-FURNfSttERS, SIXTH AND MINNESOTA. GOT ONE ON HIS WIFE. Heartless Trick a Convivial Com \ edian Played Upon His Spouse. New York Telegram. A well known comedian of convivial disposition" not long ago received as a gift from his wife a handsome scarf pin, together with the injunction that when he caught sight of the pin re flected, in a mirror ; behind a bar it should | serve .to. remind him that "someone was waiting at home." The , comedian' was deeply touched, but it was ; not long before he fell from grace. It was 2 o'clock in the morn- I ing before he caught the reflection of I the pin, and then his conscience smote J him. He hastened home, and, finding j his wife in bed and apparently asleep, he hastily disrobed and turned in with out disturbing her. While he was fig uring out that kind of a lie he would tell her the" next morning he became aware that she was really awake, but j evidently believed that he had dropped off into a profound slumber. She got I out of bed most cautiously so as not jto awaken him, and going to the | bureau where he had left his new j scarf pin in his cravat, she took the I jeweled bauble out and dropped it into a vase on the mantel, all of which he was enabled to per ceive by . the dim rays of a gas jet upon the glass of a picture frame. Then the lady came back to bed with caution, and having kept herself awake by an effort for some time, she fell into the deep slumber of exhausted nature. Now It wag the eminent comedian's turn. He gave his wife a good half hour to get soundly to sleep, and then he got out of bed, took the scarf pin out of the vase and put it back in the cravat where he had left It before. Then he got back 'to bed undetected and fell Into the refreshing slumber of the just. At 7 o'clock in the morning he was roused by a vigorous shaking and his wife's agitated voice, which said: "Wake up! You've • been robbed! Somebody has taken your scarf pin!" "My ' scarf pin!" said the „ eminent comedian. "Why, it's in my scarf on the bureau. I remember I left It there last night." "Oh, did you?" said she with asperity, ,as she snatched the scarf from the bureau. "Just look here!*' "Yes, there it is," said the eminent comedian, and he turned over, and went to sleep again. He says that ever since. then his wife has been subject to occasional relapses Into deep thought, when her eyes are fixed upon him with a far-away look, and he knows that she is wondering about her vivid dream of getting up in the night and dropping his scarf pin in the vase. 'W--..- .'Yv; TUNNELING THE THAMES. .***- " —— ~*" — " Another Gigantic Engineering- Feat Nearly Accomplished in. London. , ; London News. . * The Blackwell tunnel is soon to be an accomplished' fact. Work Is now j proceeding very rapidly; that Is to say, I the human mole's shut up In compressed I air underneath the bed of the river are ' grubbing their ■ way along at the rate j of from . twelve to fifteen : feet a week, and If , they j are. able to maintain this rate of advance for the rest of the dis tance their tunnel ; will reach the first caisson' on the Middlesex side of the Thames about the first week in Oc tober. - If that should be achieved, then this subaqueous portion of ' the work, 1,212 feet in length, will have been got I through "within a twelve-month, a feat never before accomplished in the time. It has been a difficult and a dangerous task, and' It Is to be feared that the portion now remaining to be done— or 125 feet— may prove the most trouble some of •' any. "'In 7 "evidence of this it may be stated that the contractors, Pearson , & Son, - have j just purchased ; additional 'pumping machinery. They have Thames conservancy, permission to throw down into the river, an addi tional .covering' of clay, 'and their men - are actually working at ' this moment under , an air . pressure J of ; thirty-four pounds to the square inch over and above the ordinary, atmospheric pres sure In Caisson No.. considerably greater than they have ever had to re sort to -before. ** The regulation of this air pressure is . rather ticklish i business. They are within seventy-six feet or. so of the low-water margin of the river," but tho a - . ..: whole of the river-bed at this point consists of loose porous shingle. With • out great pressure below they would have the water in upon them by its sheer weight. On the other hand, if they overdo their pressure it Is liable "l to blow off up through the bed of the i earth and the water above them. Then, j of course, the pressure has gone and in would come the deluge. How real j is the peril of this kind of work has j just been illustrated by an accident l near Melbourne, where a sewer is be i ing constructed under the Yarra by tha I ordinary shield system. The water j came in upon them and the engineer j of the work and five of his men were | drowned together. This Black wail tun ' nel is, of course, a much larger and j formidable undertaking, and it is, per- I haps, the very fact that has secured j immunity from serious mishap. The j possibilty of an Inburst of water has, of course, been so appalling that no , pains- have been spared to guard j against such a calamity. No less than | 30,000 cart loads of clay have been j brought up from the Medway and laid down over the tunnel. BILLETS AFTER BALLOOXS. 1 j Recent Experiments in Austria Giving Comfort to the Aeron aut. •■■. .^'i*.-; : ." _j The use of the balloon for dispatch carrying and for military reconnols j sance Is likely, to play a great part in the next war. Its only drawback is the fact that its huge size makes It a I splendid target, and the equally dam- I aging fact that, being chiefly "a col- I lapsible gas bag, a shot hole in any I part of its great bulk brings it down. ! For this reason a good deal of uncer- I tainty has existed in the minus of mili tary men as to the usefulness of the balloon in campaigning. Recent ex periments in Austria, however, are cal culated to give great comfort to the aeronauts, and to show that the ob jection just mentioned is not so great as might at first be supposed. -These experiments had for their object the determination of how easy it would be to hit a balloon In the air. To make the task of the marksmen as light as possible, captive balloons were used— that is, the balloons were tethered to the ground by ropes. In one case such a balloon, at a height of 4,205 feet, or more than three-quarters of a mile, ! was fired at from a distance of 4.M») yards (two and a half miles) and was struck nine times without being . brought down. Another time a cap tive s balloon 2,625 . feet high was at tacked from a distance of 5,600 yards, or more than three miles, and was not brought down until after the fifty, sixth round. In this case a heavy gal* made the balloon plunge and rerideretS aim very difficult. . . GREATEST OF CANNON. 1 At the Cramp shipyard there has ar rived -the largest breech-loading gun in the United States. It is intended for use on the battleship Indiana, now preparing for her official trip, says the . ! Boston Transcript. There have been ! guns made with a larger bore than this, .but --none that come up to it In weight and general size. As it lies on the. wharf near the ship to which it belongs it measures forty feet in length, * while It weighs sixty-seven tons. It will take 550 pounds of 'powder to fire this gun, and the solid steel pro-, jectile Intended for Its use weighs 1 100 pounds, and is thirty-nine Inches long ' Approximately this huge piece of ord nance will throw a shell a distance of thirteen miles. In order to bring the gun from Washington a special car was necessary, a car built to resist tho enormous weight of the gun and heav ily braced with iron. fIIMEN . Easily, Quickly, Permanently Restored. 1 . . A yja*_^ Weakness, Ncrvou«nes», (*^»>!*W D S blllt J*» and all the trala \^jrT*V_?' evils from early errors or _fswy J iT«l later excesses, tho results of •3 S&'V" v overwork, sickness, worry, J Weakness, Nervousness, \ Debility, and all the traia ,*"C_ of evils from early errors or JM later excesses, the results of fTovertorlt, sickness, worry, etc. Full strength, deveU __i "lopment and tone given to A?i>*Jl^> i> -__U"J every or ' , - no " portion, WwMwsi^vtiS of the body. Simple, naU I l^/}ia^T^Wi)i ural methods. ; Immedji. iii :/fm I I Mill ate improvement seen. Failure impossible.. 3.OQQ -references." Book? explanation and proofs mailed (sealed) frae. \ ERIE MEDICAL 00., Buffalo, M.YJ