Newspaper Page Text
mm ipo
(Copyright. 1903, by
, For a long time 1 hold the dainty,
violet-scented envelope unopened in
my hand. What train of memories
this pink envelope and that subtle
fragrancy of violet brought to my
blase heart! How It recalled the hot
ears o my youth during which I had
sown a rather profuse crop of wild
oats. At that time those scented
notes, some pink, some blue, some
lavender, had formed the bulk of my
correspondence and had carried with
them the delightful touch of intrigue
which a wild youth would naturally
crave. But to-day, why should I re
ceive one I, a married man?
I I turned tho letter over three or
four times, then tore it open and read
tho following words written in a
crumpted handwriting 1 had never
seen before:
"Dear Old Tony Though it may
be folly to make such invitation to a
married man, I risk it any way. I will
be this evening at 10::0 in room No.
C of the Bon Ton Cafe and will wait
for you. "One who loves you.
"Z."
I was astounded. What could this
mean? Who was this mysterious
"7" who could be so bold as to make
such rendezvous at the Bon Ton, one
of the gayest restaurants of the city!
In my younger days I wouldn't have
hesitated a second but now I nad a
wife, a weak, babyish, clinging crea
ture, whoso childish ways were some
what tiresome, that's true, but whom
l deeply loved. 1 crushed tho note
with an impatient gesture, then lit
a match and watched It burn, a right
eous frown upon my brow. Such fol
lins were not for me. I would not go.
By six o'clock 1 had changed my
mind and had persuaded myself that
my very life depended upon my going
to that rendezvous. For the first time
Mnce my mnrriage I was embarrassed
Ijt fore my wife during the dinner,
which I barely tasted. I could only
reply in monosyllables to her gay,
childish prattle.
When dinner was over, and as tho
maid removed the dishes, she came
nnd sat on the arm of my chair and
with her fingers tried to erase the
"Why nhould I receive ono?"
frown which ray conflicting thoughts
had caused to gather on my brow.
"Is my darling worried about some
thing?'' sho asked, as her blonde head
nestled on my shoulder.
"Yes, sweetheart," I replied, thank
ful that her eyes were lower and she
could not see my face. "1 am more
than worried, for I am deeply disap
pointed. I had planned to spend tho
evening with you, as usual, but a
business appointment with a man
from out of town will call mo back
to tho office this evening, and It may
ho midnightmaybe late; before I
enn got home.
With her eyes still avorted from
mine, but with a llttlo rjvlvor of tho
I lay
Ulilu KJwlJ
Daily Story Pub. Co i
body, like a child nbout to sob, sho
said in disappointed tones:
"You surnly are not going out again
to-night. Can't that horrid business
wait until to-morrow. A married man
should stay homo with his wife."
That last sentence sounded as a re
proach to my already alarmed con
science, but I again forced it to sil
once by assuring myself that my so'.o
reason for going was to protect this
tender, clinging girl from some bru
tal revelation of my past wavward
life.
"Yjcs, yes, I know," I hurried to
reply, "hut It is for your sake, llttlo
one, that I must go."
"For my sake?" sho questioned
with pouting lips, but still without
looking up.
"Yes, for your sake, dearest. Is it
not for you I work, to give you all
there fine clothes in which your soul
delights, this homo which is the envy
of other women, this "
She threw her arms around my
neck, and scaling my lips with a kiss,
cried In a nervous, half-sobbing, half
laughing voice:
"Oh, I know that all women of our
set envy me, 1 have everything I
want but, oil Tony what I care for
the most, what would kill me to lose
or share with another, is your love
I could not live If I thought that you
could even think of another."
That old nuisance of a conscience
again raised a reproaching voice and
I was about to say that business
could wait and that I would not re
turn to tho olllce, when a vision of
that pink, violet-scented note passed
before my mind's eye and my good
resolution came to naught. I must
know the author of that, letter.
I bowed to my wife passionate pro
testations of love. I soothed her half
hysterical emotion, then getting Into
my overcoat, I made my escape.
Instead of taking the car. I decided
to walk down town. It was yet two
hours to the appointed time and I
wanted to collect my thoughts. I did
not feel at my ease. I knew I was do
ing wrong, yet I lelt powerless to re
sist, nnd I walked and bit discontent-
i edly at my cigar.
When I reached the business part
of the city it was still too early so
I amused myself by walking past the
lighted stores and watching the
crowd which passed and repassed in
r.cer ceasing flow.
So keen was my preoejupation that
I forgot myself in the maze d! my
thoughts and only returned to reality
when my eyes encountered tho white
dial of a street clock, and I saw that
tills indicated twenty-eight minutes
past. ten. I reached the Bon Ton cafe
just as the clock struck the half lnur.
As tho flunkey showed mo up to
room 3fi he winked in a knowing way
and said:
"Deuced pretty woman, but so ner
vous and timid. Hasn't been a round
er long."
More anxious than ever l followed
my guide. Beforo No. It! ho paused,
saying:
"Sho's in there, waiting for you."
"Has supper been ordered?" I asked.
"No, sir. Shall wo send up some
thing, 'sunt erne' and oysters, fov in
stance, followed by "
"Yes, perhaps." I Interrupted, hast
ily. "But. wait until I order. I will
ring if wo wnnt anything."
Ho bowed and left me. Alljhls was
so familiar and yet so strange, that
my head was in a whirl. "Time to
retreat." kept saying tho still, small
voice of duty, but I had gono too far.
I must know all. I knocked.
A sweet voice called to enter. 1
opened the door and stopped .In. At
the farther end of the room, a wom
an sat, huddled in a chair, a dainty
white and pink opera wrap covered
her shoulders, the hood of which con
cealed both her hair and face. I hesir
tntod, my heart thumped disorderly
against my bosom. At last, oppressed
by the mysterious silence, I wallwd
resolutely toward tho woman who had
not stirred slnco I had entered.
"Well, I'm here," I said In tones
I tried to make stern. "Will you
kindly toll me the moaning of your
note. Who are you. anyway?"
With a quick movement I pulled
hack tho hood, then started back with
a. cry, tho mysterious woman was
my wife!
A peal of hysterical laughter greet
ed my discomfiture, then Metta's
voice said:
"So this is tho business, this is tho
way you love your wife, this oh, my
heart Is broken!"
And before I had time to recover
from my astonishment, sho had drop
ped back on her chair, her bosom con
vulsed with wild, passionate sobbing.
hi an instant my resolution was
taken. My future happiness depended
nn my regaining Metta's confidence,
half of her love depended on the blind
I pulled back the hood, and then
started back with a cry.
trust she had placed in me. I was on
my knees before her in a minute and
was saying in tones I tried to make
nern and commanding:
"See here, Motta. don't be a fool.
Do you think I would have conio if I
had not recognized your handwriting.
Poor little girl, you did try to disguise
it, hut such things don't work with
eyes sharpened by love. I knew that
you had written the note but tho idea
struck ni3 as novel, this mysterious
meeting In a down town cafe with my
own wife. So I let you come."
Well, If sometimes Metta's childish,
trusting mediocrity of intellect has
fatigued me, I blessed it that night,
since thanks to it, sho credited my
words and saved mo from a very
awkward position.
Only I can assuro you that I have
sworn off answering pink notes or vio
let scented ones.
Summer Sun.
fiio.it U the sun, ami wlrto ho poos
Through empty heaven without repose;
And in tliu blue unit glowing days
Mori- thick than rain he showoiH ilia rays,
Though closer still tho blinds wo puli
To keep the shady parlor cool,
Y-t he will Had n chink or two.
To slip his golden llnger.i through.
The dusty attic, spider-clad
He. though tho keyhole, malceth glad:
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hn.-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground.
And sheda a warm and glittering look
Among tho i y's Inmost nook.
Among the bills, along the blue.
Wound the bright air with footing true,
To pleane tho child, to paint tho ro.se,
The gardener of the World, ho goes.
Hubert I.ouls Stevenson.
Boer Colony Doing Well.
Tho Boer colony established in the
Sta'e ot Chihuahua, Mexico, two years
igo. h doing well. The colonists urn
laying up uiQiu-y. They have dispen
god with Mexican labor and do their
own wc-k.
DROVE EMPEROR FROM CAPITAL.
Ill-Used Peasant Almost Seized Crown
of Hungary.
Cieorge Dosza was a Szekler, or
peasant, of Szekelfyfold, a district of
Hungary. He was a quint, law-abiding
man. notable only lor his groat
strength and tall stature.
One day. however, an Austrian no
ble thought fit to decoy away
from her father's house Dosza's only
daughter, a maiden of 1 i. Tho dlr
iracted parent sought the abductor far
ind near, but. failing to find him,
journeyed to Vienna and laid his case
beforo tho emperor.
The latter only laughed. Whereupon
the peasant returned to his own vil
lage and pasted upon the door of his
little cabin a formal declaration of
war against his sovereign. A month
later ho was marching on Vienna at
tho head of a huge, but undisciplined
and ill-equipped army.
At first the luck was all on his side.
Ho defeated the regular troops In a
lumber of pitched battles, carried by
assault several large and strongly for
tified towns and was actually within
sight, of the capital, whence the em
peror had already fled, when ho was
betrayed into ambush through the
treachery of a guide.
The misfortune constituted the be
ginning of tho end. The bulk of his
followers fell away from him and were
hunted through tho mountains and
woods like wild beasts. Altogether, it
is said, that over 150,000 of them were
put to tho sword.
Tho "Jack Cade of Hungary," hav
'ng been taken prisoner, was seated
on an iron throne, beneath which a
huge fire had previously been kindled,
crowned with a red-hot iron crown,
and his flesh torn from his bones with
red-hot pincers. Exchange.
A Revised Version.
John Alden had just concluded his
eloquent praises of Capt. Miles Stand
Ish and waited anxiously for Priscil
la's answer. Coyly she regarded him
for an instant, then, blushing, she in
quired :
"Why don't you speak for yourself,
John?"
"Great Scott!" ejaculated tho young
puritan, "what do you suppose I am?
I ain't workin no Hoch nor Wltzhoff
game I'm runnin' a straight, legiti
mate matrimonial bureau, that's what
I am. I'll go straight back to Cap.
fitandish and tell him that If he wants
that female bunko-steerer at tho old
man Mullin's house, he'll have to get
somebody else to do the job. I'm
through!"
And. jamming on his hat, he rushed
forth, hanging tho door behind lijni.
while Prisellla wept bitterly. Detroit
News.
Conditional Piety.
Two Scoteli fishermen, Jamie and
Sandy, belated and befogged on a
rough water, were In some trepidation
lest they should never get ashore
again. At last Jamie said:
"Sandy, I'm steering, and I think
you'd better put up a bit. of prayer."
"I don't know how." said Sandy.
"If ye don't. I'll chuck ye over
boar'.!." said Jamie.
Sandy began: "Oh, Lord, I never
asked anything of Ye for fifteen years,
and if Ye'll only get us safe- back I'll
never trouble Ye again, and "
"'hisht. Sandy!" said Jamie, "tho
boat's touched shore; don't be behold
en to anybody." New York World.
Plenty of Dait.
"Dear me." pouted tho young wife,
who wtis wedded to a disci plo of Izaak
Walton. "I don't see why a man can't
go fishing without carrying a horrid
bottle."
"My husband never carries a bot
tle." confided the matron next door.
"How nice of him."
"No. ho carries a demijohn. But
my grandfather was n groat fisher
man. He never carried either a bot
tle or a demijohn."
Noble man. Il must havo boon
splendid."
"Ye.", he nhvay carried a keg."
