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KS i Sir i fc . k r f; 18 ' THE PITTSBTJBG- DISPATpH, K - i r HEct'to spoil you. But I'll surprise you some I as ostentations as possible, till he said: "I I "BntI have changed. BHRdar. I CHAPTEBIL ! TOUCHY "SUBPEISES" ME. J1 Touchy made my life a burden for months before he redeemed his word. At last, alter a week of alternate devotion and snubbi tiveness, he hauled me oat for a walk. As we reached the country, he became festive and sans: 'In spring a young man's fancy lightly tarns to thoughts of 11 love at" Said I, stupidly: "Spring. isn't till next month." Touchy returned beamingly: 'I'm not going to wait till next month. I'm going to tell you now." His eyes were very shiny, and he looked quite serious. A cold chill went down my back. I felt that something awful was going to happen. "Xou are a nice girl," said Touchy, as if beginning a long speech. "Xou are young. 80 am 3- But we'll get over that You are frivolous, but I can cure that As it is, I haven't enough control of you. I hare made up my mind that I must secure at once the sole management of you." I thought I saw a way oat, and I asked, quakilv: "Do yon want to star me, Touchy?" He said he hadn't thought of it, but, in dulgently, that he would see next year. Then he jerked my head up and was going to kiss me. I fell in a limp mess away from him and against the fence, whereat he said severely: "Come, Katie, don't be foolish. Having just asked you to marry me, I ought to have some rights." I declared that he hadn't, and that I wouldn't stand it. "Sever having done it before," said he with dignity, "I was perhaps not clear, but I did the best I could, Miss Tempest, and I certainly ought to kiss you." "Oh, Touchy!" wailed I, beginning to snivel, "what an awful thing." ".Not when you're used to it," he returned cheerily, again preparing to kiss me. His serene confidence enraged me. I stamped my foot, crying how did he know I wanted to marry him. "Because," said he, in a blood-curdling way, "you have encouraged me." He said "encouraged" with ten-horse power oi emphasis and conviction. I be came panic-stricken. "Ho, no," I cried, "I haven't and never meant to. Oh, dear, and oh. dear!" Touchy seemed gradually to catch the idea. "Do I understand, Miss Tempest," said he in an awe-stricken tone, "that you do not love me?" "Not the least in the world,1" I cried, "and please don't call me Miss Tempest I'm awfully fond of you, Touchy, but I'd rather die tfian marry you. Don't be augry, but you'd make an awful husband, you know, Touchy." He contradicted this indignantly, and launched out into a lecture against bare faced coquetry and impudence, which I, with tearful vehemence, contested. Half way home I ventured in a miserable, choked "voice: "Please, Touchy, be friends and for give mel" "Never," he roared, "never! You have blighted my life, cut short my career, and led me on to destroy me. I shall drown myself, and it will be your fault, Miss Tempest" "No, indeed, you won't,"! urged anx iously, remembering Bennie Shine; "you'll get over it, really." But he said he wouldn't, except in a watery grave, and at my door extended his hand, saying: "Parewll forever!" I reminded him of the theater, but he shook his head solemnly and made amotion with bis arm as if swimming, wheieat I broke down crying. He at once put his arms close about me, and asked me in a voice dripping with tenderness. "Katie, don't you love me some?" Mv face was smothered against his coat, but I managed to shake my bead violently. , As soon as he felt it he put me at arms length from him so suddenly that my head nearly fell off. After a perplexed pause he beamed. "I asked you too quick." he said, "that's it, ana be rubbed my bang in my eyes, told me not to fret and departed whistling cheerfully. Prom that day I was waylaid at all times and places, and asked if I hadn't changed my mind; or he would stand in corners and intimidate me by making that swimming motion. Often, before everyone, he would break into homilies against my sex, de nouncing us all as flirts. Finally to crown all, he got a cough. I used to take his breakfast up to him, explaining each time that only my regard for a sick human be ing made me do it, and getting egg shells thrown at me. Then he assured me, cough ing frightfully, that he had consumption, and that excitement made him spit blood. Bight on top of that he swore if I didn't change my mind he would s pit a quart of blood then and there. I bolted down the hallway calling for a doctor. Once he drew a dreadful picture of my despairing regret if he should die and I had never kissed him. I felt so badly that I knelt right down by the bed and kissed him solemnly on the lorehead. "Hang that," was all the thanks I got; "what good is that to a fel low?" Afterward, however, he quoted the kiss as a clear case of leading him on to destroy him. I told much of this to Mr. Ned, storming, when he laughed, that above all things I hated love and anyone who loved me. "Suppose I should?." he asked. "You're so fascinating." I ignored the sarcasm and said with dig nity: "i.ou woman t oe so wicked. Xou re married." "Yes," said he. CHAPTER HI. IOVEB3 JlSTD FBIENDS. It was a relief to reach Boston and my old home at my aunt's. I had not been there for years. The boys had grown to men, and they were all agreeable to me without tormenting me after the manner of Touchy. I anticipated two weeks of peace and happi ness. There was hardly time for them all. Bright Hale had grown rich, and had good ness knows how many turnouts and a yacht beside. Ernest Marvel, the boy I had cared best for at school, was now tall and hand some. He was amember of clubs, had con cert tickets and art tickets, and there was no moment of my day for which he had not some plan. Then Harry Blake owned a big store, and so on and so on. My head kept buzzing all the time. Bright saw the most of me. He had a breezy way of monopolizing one, and beside he was just starting ona business trip to California. The last Priday of my stay he went away. He shook hands, kissed my cheek, airily reminded me that I was his best girl forever, and that I might use his carriage as often as I wished. Sunday Ernest called. I rushed down to the parlor complaining that I thought my self forgotten. &o, lconldn tiorget you, even a min ute." Ernest said somberly. A queer little chill went down my back, but I dismissed at "I thought" he went on harshly, "you would be in mourning for Bright" "He's not dead," I returned stupidly; "I shall see him again." "I suppose so," Ernest answered and fell into heavy silence, which he presently broke by a flow of light talk quite unlike'his usu al way. I complained of it and, since he did not mend, I cried: "If you can't talk like yourself, you shan'ttalk at all," and he forthwith began playing jigs and break- a !. ..: . .rn 1 . .j 1.! il. uownauu hue jjiauu, tiu 11c fciuppcu 111s vu up and down, saying hoarsely: "Por heaven's sake, don't!" "Aren't you rather imperative and em phatic?" questioned I. He seemed sorry, and asked meekly: "When do you go?" "When you like this minute, for in stance." He seemed hurt and explained gravely that he meant to ask when did I leave the city. "To-morrow morning 9 o'clock," I an swered. He resumed his walk. I moved restlessly tad sighed heavily and made my discontent as ostentations as possible, till he said: "I know, Katie, but I have so much to tell you, and the time is short I am afraid to sav it at all, but I cannot let you go without speaking. That's itl Your going it tears my heart out ana I c11 think only ot the pain." I got a dreadfully solemn feeling. Prom some inspiration right from my heart I walked over to him, and laying my hand as near his shoulder as I could reach I said in a very gentle voice for me: "Please, dear Ernest we have known each other all our lives ever since I was a little girl I have been fond of you and we shall be sorry to say goodby, but it will not tear my heart out, nor yours, either." He moved as if to speak, but I harried on: "You must not think me changed because for a few years you have not seen me. You and I are friends, just as we were at school. "We can never be any more, or any less. It is a lovely ming to ue irieuuo u, wu it wuuiu uc uu if I should, or you should, do anything to spoil or change it would it not. Ernest? No, don't answer. No one should think twice of me, Ernest I am just as I used to be selfish and thoughtless and frivolous. I haven't a bit of heart dear -Ernest in deed I haven't, except so much as can ache with regret if anyone for whom I care comes to pain through me. -Please understand, Ernest and don't let's talk of this any more please, please, for my sake!" I had been hurried on by some frightened impulse. It seemed to me that it would be the saddest thing in the world if Ernest should change. The tears were in my eyes at the thought His face softened and gleamed as if from an inward light He clasped his hands over mine that was pushed against him, and bending kissed my fingers. Then he answered: "I know, Katie, you are warning me. Out of your gentle heart you are trying to save me the pain of the mistake which, for all that I must make. It is too late and I must go through with it mistake or not Do Ton think I could see you as I have and my heart not grow abont you till only you are there, and will you tell me there is no hope for me? I am a big fellow, and I don't know much abcut how one should ask such thing;, bnt it is humble enough, is it not? if I put my knee to the ground so and lifting my arms only to touch your bands, tell you that I love you 1 love you J. love you. He turned his "face with a sort of sob against my dress. I slid, a limp, miserable wreck, into the chair behind me, and began stupidly rubbing his head, while I said, more or less, that I was so sorry, that for the world I would not give him pain, but that I knew I should be a wicked girl if I did not honestly tell him the truth. He stood unsteadily asking: "And that is?" "That I do not love yon the least in the world more than I always have," I made answer, crvmg softly; that on, forgive me, Ernest I know I never shall feel lor you as some day I expect to feel for the man I shall marry." He took me close in his arms, kissing my forehead and cheek and eyelids. His lips were eold. Then he put me from him, say ing vaguely: "Goodbyl" 'No, no," Ernest" I.cried, "you must not go that wav. You must care for me as you always have as I caro tor you, and always will. Our dear friendship must not be broken up. I cannot spare it I will not. You will forget that you ever felt like this." "Do you think so?" he asked, and his eyes had such a look of somber pain in them that I felt as if I were murdering him. All I could do was to turn angry. "Have I no rights?" I cried: "now can you take from me a friendship I have never forfeited, the sincerest deepest proof of which I have just given? I never wanted you to love me, and I won't have it, I won't give you up. I hate people to love me. Why "could you not be nice, and fond ot me, as Bright Hale is, and stay so?" At the name his face darkened. "Had Bright asked yon, your answer would have been dinerent, he said, doggedly. I gave a small scream of rage "Oh 1 would it? Please let me tell you Bright would not do such a thing. He is too kind to repay a girl for a friendship, which has lasted nearly as long as she has, by falling in love with her, arid then throwing her off as you propose doing. Bright Hale would not do so cruel, unkind, unnecessary, dread ful, disastrous a thing as loving me. He " A discreet rustle at the door, and Mary AnfAail ('ATV TTala ttiipc ' mm mi? a,H in walked Bright Ernest broke into laugh ing. "You see The said, and then to Bright: "Good luck, old fellow. I am just leav ing." I lifted my hand in protest against his bitter implication, and with a hurried greet ing to Bright followed Ernest to the door, saying: "Please forget it all and be friends." He drew a long breath, that made me feel his heart was breaking, and said hoarsely, his arms straining abont me: "Let me say once more that I love you. I shall have no right soon." "Where are you going?" I whispered in miserable anticipation. "To the back bay, I suppose," he re turned harshly. "Never mind me go to Bright Good-by," and he was gone. I stood a moment in the hallway. Was ever a girl so unlucky as I, or anything so wearing or worrying as a man's love? Then I hurried into the parlor. "I thought you half way to California," I said, reaching out my hands. "I was halt way to Chicago," said Bright, and then paused. His eyes were gleaming, his voice quite new, I shivered a little, and stood staring anxiously at him. "I was half way to Chicago when I found I had some thing to say to you, and " I broke wildly to the other end of the 1 room behind a chair, saying: Don't you do it! I won't have it!" "You've got to, Katie," he returned stead ily; "I should have spoken before I went away, but at least I have come back all this way to say it! "You shall not" I interrupted again. "I won't hear it Haven't I been holding you up as a shining example, and swearing by you? What have I done to deserve all this, anyhow?" and I stamped one foot after the other. "You have been yourself that's all, Kate the sweetest, frankest most winsome self that ever breathed. You have looked at me from two of the clearest blue eyes that ever won a man's heart. You have spoken from two lips that are sweeter to look at than any lips in the world you " "I have not! I've got two eyes and a nose and a month, like any other girl. I'm like any one else, and I don't deserve to be treated so. Go home before you say any more. I won't hear it!" "Kate, darling, you must hear it A man takes no such trip as I have -to be set aside without hearing. I love von as no one else can. J. am rich you shall have everything you want " "I don't want it" I put in breathlessly. "Then you needn't have it," he replied without pause, and going on as if I had not spoken. "I love you from the tip of the curl on your forehead, through every pink finger to the sole of your tiny shoes, and I will be answered." "My shoes are not tiny. I wear sevens sevens, do you hear: an'dl haven't heard a word you've said. I told you I wouldn't" "Then," said he, somehow setting aside the chair, and holding me fast in his arms, MI will say it again. I love -von from the top of your head to the sole of" your foot of both feet aad I want the right to go on lov ing you more and more." I was being kissed on hair and eves and lips. I strag gled free. "To think' that you, of all per sons, should so ill use me.-" "No, no," urged Bright anxiously; "but think, a man is only a man, and you give me no answer. I can be humble, if you like," and he was at my feet "Oh get up, get upl I won't stand it" and I thought of Ernest "I have been an swering ever since you came. I do not love you, I never will, I never will never oh dear!" "Be careful, Kate. Don't speak too harshly. A man's heart and life are of some value. 1 deserve some considera tion." "Oh, Bright" I begged, beginning to cry, "do not love me. You should see I have no heart I care only lor friends. Soon as a man loves me I hate him. Be my friend. Bright I want one so. I am as nice as I ever was for a friend. I have not changed." said he, locking 'X can no lonccr see yon but that my heart leaps to hold you in my arms lorever. xcs, x nave cnangea. The light of your eyes puts meon fire. The touch of your hand will mak,e me forget even your own command. Tell me to stay and I will be gentle and never forget till I have won yon; but ask me to stay as your friend, and I "J r "Oh, I know," r interrupted; "you will shoot yourself, won't yon ? Because I offer you all I have for you, and stick to the truth that I have no more, I am to be hol lered at like that, and oft you march to the devil. Aren't you ashamed ? I. never asked you to love me, did I ? Why should I get all the blame of it? Why must we always be bullied by the men who pretend to care for us?" His face turned gray, "ion dare not speak so to me." he whispered hoarsely, his head sinking between his shoulders as he looked at me, and his eyes gleaming savagely. I was so frightened that I could make no move at all when he seemed ready to crush the life from me, and could not take my eyes from his, angry and cruel as they were. He must have seen how afraid I was, for of a sudden he loosed me, calling himself in a miserable, shamed way a brute. I would not let him turn away, and I said in an eager tumble of words: "Please, Bright, look at me. You can see I don't love you, can you not? First make sure of that Then be kind and generous and good, and don't you throw me off. I cannot lose all my friends." "Ernest too," said he, tne thought just coming to him. Then he lifted my face and looked at me. I was not afraid, but when I oould not see any more for tears I asked again: "Be friends. Bright." He drew a long breath, and said: "You're a brave little girl, Kate." After a moment he went on: "So everyone is falling in love with you and bothering your life out? Well, at least I won't do that I'll I'll be friends, Kate." The words came slowly, and his lips, al though he smiled, were so white that I hastened to show how much I appreciated his goodness. "Thank you thank you," I said, adding earnestly: "I love you more for that than ever I did before." His face twitched and be said, smiling again: "It would be kind to choose your words better, Kate." Then after a long stare at me, he said with complete return to his old manner: "Good-by, Kate." I must get away from you now, but don't think any more of this. Only remember, no matter how many lovers you have, you've one friend." "Thank yon, Bright" I said, again lauehine aloud from happiness. He made a face half comic and half seri ous. "Don't lauzh. I'm going to shoot myself, may be. That s what they all do, isn't it?" "Or drown themselves," I observed meekly, "or go to the devil." "All right, I'll take my choice when I get out Good-bv, Kate." I stood on a hassock, reached my arms about his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks, saying gratefully: "You have been awfully kind to me, Bright, and indeed I'm very thankful," "Well, you ought to be," he assented grimly. Wringing my hand he said an other cheery "good-by. Bemember your friend," and was gone." I sighed a big sigh. Ah! how much nicer friendship was than anything else, I thought, gratefully. CHAPTEB IV. A COMPLICATION OF FETES. Behearsal. A bitter March day. Theater full of draughts. One gas jet Daylight dribbling through ventilators in the roof. Sweepers shouting to each other from where they were covering the chairs with white cloths. Everybody cross, and with reason. Called at 10, we had waited a good half hour for Mr. Butcher and his leading lady. The day before I had come two minutes late to find the entire company assembled. Mr. Butcher watch in hand, pacing the stage, and Miss Loowella shivering ostenta tiously in her furs. Mr, Butcher had' In formed me that snch a thing as being two minutes late was unheard ol, and that probably I had caused Miss Loowella to take cold. Said I now to Mr. Ned, who sat beside me on a roll ot carpel: "When-they come I shall tell him they have probably caused me to take cold." Just then he strode in with Miss Loo wella at his heels. He was in an ill humor. "Come, come, come, come!" said he in crescendo. "Let's get to work. No stand ing around. A chair for Miss Loowella. Ned, where are your manners? A chalrl" Ned, who off the stage would have knocked a man down for such a tone, obeyed sullenly. Butcher got crasser and crasser, and it all fell on me. It is hard to do a comedy scene all bundled in a cloak and mm tn flontf, ttMa "TTon. ft ' 1,a roared, "take it off." I wondered I had not thought of that be fore and hustled out of the garment; but I was still stupid, and presently began.to cry. "What are you sniveling for?" Batcher demanded hoarsely. "One would think me a brute. You should be in Siberia, with a, man with a whip after you." I laughed that it was cold as Siberia, and that I shouldn't mind the whip if only with it he could make me understand what, he wanted, "Are you a fool?" he inquired. "No," I retorted, "not quite, and what intelligence I have is concentrated on try ing to make out your meaning. If you would direct your giant mind to expressing yourself clearly we should get" along. Therel" and I stamped my foot and waited for Butcher to plunge over and murder me, wondering if Mr. Ned or Touchy would dare save me. Butcher didn't plunge, though. He mut tered something about insolence, and turned so abruptly that he collided with Tonchy. "Don't run into me, sir," he roared. Touchy was in a temper over the bullying of me, and he roared back: ""I didn't!' "you did." "Sir?" "You'je a liar," they both retorted simul taneously, springing at each other. Some one caught each of them, and presently Touchy was getting his inr coat and hat on. Then he crossed to me, and said, under his breath: "If you want to leave this fellow, I'll take you safe to New York." "No, no," I cried, and begged him to stay. But he meant his "Good-by," for when we got to the hotel he had departed, bag and baggage. It was two years before I saw him again. Then we met in a railway station. He rushed to me, jerked my head back, and cried: "Bless my heart, its Katie." With that he tucked me under his arm, and pranced with me into the ladies' waiting room. "Katie, here's my wife," he said, beaming all over at a wee, blue-eyed thing. "I'm happy as a king," Touchy Jventon; "though Birdy here doesn't let ue call my soul my own. I shook hands cordially with Birdv. feel ing glad that Touchy had not drowned him self prematurely for me. Now let us regain those two elapsed years. May be the rehearsal gave' me a cold. May be it was griet for Tonchy. But the next week I developed a cough that went down button by button of my bodice till it reached my belt There it hurt awfully. I grew feverish, and could not see very clear ly, nor move without being tired. I thought myself lazy, and laughed a great deal and was noisy to cover it up. Only Mr. Ned noticed it Ho quietly emptied my bag into his, that mine might be light He helped me up and downstairs, a'nd into cars, and took my part when I was blamed for frivolity. To make things worse, Miss Loowella slipped away to New' York to buy dresses for oar Philadelphia week, and I was left with her part to do through two weeks ot one-night-stands. Toward the end of the time I became so wobbly that I could not stand except on the stage. " One day Mr. Ned carried me upstairs, and found me in a dead faint when he got to my room. When I came to he said angrily: "IsHall permit xou must nave a doctor. "Can't afford it." I returned cheerily. "Besides, what's.the good of seeing a doctor for laziness?" "I will pay." "You'd be compromised," I objected. "And I shall order you a fire." "Can't afford it," I said again fretfully. He looked at me in a queer earnest way, and then turned sharply from- the room. Presently our business manager, a pros perous looking fellow with a suave manner and a big diamond pin, came in. "I understand you are not well, Miss Tempest" e sai softly, "and that you re fuse to have a fire. I will order one." My face blazed as I answered shortly: "I will have nothing, I can't afford, thank you.' , "You don't understand," he insisted sweetly. "Miss Loowella is not due for several days. If yon fail to play, the thea ter closes. I must therefore as a business insist upon your taking care of your self, and I shall order you a fire and a doctor." I struggled to my feet and answered quickly. "You may order me a coach and tour if you like. Don't be afraid I will pay only, when Miss Loowella returns, T hope then I may be allowed to die if I like without being insulted." Our genial manager said soothingly that I had an awful temper, and softly left the room. I lay ou the sofa, crying, and feel ing very small and lonesome. I was all over tears when Mr. Ned brought the doctor in. He was young and strong looking. He laid a vigorous hand on my wrist pushed my hair back in a womanly fashion, and said quietly: "Avery sick girl. She must go to bed and stay there." "Oh, no she mustn't" said I. "If she fails to play the theater closes. So she can't go to bed." "But your life, child." "Think of the theater," I answered, adding earnestly. "One must do her duty, mustn't she, doctor?" He looked at me seriously and kindly. Then he said I must do as I thought right He mixed some stuff in glasses from his case, gave Mr. Ned a lot of instructions, said he would see me in Philadelphia, where was his home, and departed with a parting admonition to me io take such care of myself as I could. "How can he be here if he lives in Phila delphia?" I asked crossly, for being sick seemed to spoil my temper. "He visits here to lecture at a medical college," Mr. Ned explained absently. I lay back, remembering how firm and kind xhis hands had been. Then things blurred and my eyes shut up. I came from my half swoon to find Mr. Ned kneeling be side me with his arms across me. "Katie, Katie!" he was saying brokenly, "don't be ill for my sake," I thought him very kind, and laid my hand over his saying, gratefully: "How good you are; I'm only lazy don't mind. Whatever should you cry for?" xlb aiu mi iace in uic iotas 01 tne snawt about my throat, and said, over and over again: "God help me, I love you I love yon!" I struggled with the heavy stupidity which fever laid upon me, saying it was all a dream, and not true not true. Then, when I felt his lips hot and eager on my throat and hands and eyes, I pleaded that he must not, and that I was very ill, whereat he dragged himself away. Por a long time everything was a misera ble confusion. Weary staring days, rush ing cars, noise and light always. A ques tioning each morning if I thought I could play at night and a dogged answer always, "Yes.1 ging into dresses that each night had to be tightened oyer the shoulders to keep them from slipping off; waiting in the wings sure that I could neither hear my cue nor move when I did; then a merry rush on, my voice sounding strange and my Iangh like an other person's and the line of footlights wavering up and down so fast that I seemed to be dancing before a wall of fire. Then the nightly swoon, after it was all over, and being lifed into the carriage .... ..Uv. .. . toi, uias. wnicn tne management provided as a mat ter of business. And through it all Mr. Ned doing everything. Mr. Ned! Mr. Ned, to whom I clung in dumb gratitude for his kindness, in spite of tne nigntmare 01 wnat ne had tola me, and kept on telling me. I was so afraid, too, that people would see. The horror of being blamed for making a good man forget his borne and his honor was always before me. Por I was sure he was good, and over and over I lifted a weak hand to shut out the hungry light in his eyes, and said that, if he would only try, in a little while it would all pass and his heart would go back where it belonged. Each time he would answer: "As long as I live I shall love you." I got all confused. He said such wonder ful things. My head went round till I could not tell right from wrong. Some times when he told me that only if I was good to him could he remember his con science and his honor, it seemed as if I should do better by the wife, whom I never forgot, if I was patient and let him love me. He argued, too, that he asked nothing ex cept to be allowed to love me, and to serve me, and to know I did not hate fcim. And of course I did not hate him. 'He laughed at all my little creed of right and wrong till it seemed stupid and narrow beside his older knowledge; yet even when I could no longer talk against him, I believed in my soul that my right was the best right and that if I could only help him he would come to it. Bat at last I grew afraid. Once after the play I swooned, and came to myself to find Mr. Ned's arms holding me up, and his lips taking my very me from me. J. cried weak ly that he was cruel, and he answered no, no that he must wake up my heart that he loved me, although I did not know what love meant At that, and at the hunger of his lips. I became dreadfully frichtehed. and straggled free, holding him at arm's length, and staring scared and horrified to see if I should know him. He seemed to re member himself, and said sullenly that men were only brutes; that he must not forget now much a child I was, nor spoil all by frightening me, and saying so he left me. I lay weak and dazed. As the things be gan to blur, I said, clasping my hands aud crying a little: "Please, dear God! I know I am not a very good girl; but I don't want to make anyone wicked. Please help me? We reached Philadelphia. Miss Loo wella had returned and I could rest Mr. Ned took me to a hotel, telephoned for the doctor and came to my room. He was white and haggard, and his eyes were dull. He stood beside the chair in which I was crumpled, and said hoarsely that he could sooner shoot himself than leave me; that the time for pretense had passed; that body and soul and all he loved me, and if I did not understand he would teach me. I tore myself out of his arms and my lips from his. 1 the instant I knew him for what he was. I stood straight on my feet and cried that there was nothing in the whole world so hateful to my sight as he. That ill alone, and at bfct only a half size woman, I was not afraid.of him, and that if he kept in my sight another instant I would choke him. Somehow he crept out I remember cry ing miserably, my arms flung upward, -that of all things'in the world love was the most cruel and worst And then I felt CHAPTER V. THE DOCTOR'S TREATMENT. After that I was very ill. The company left me, and Dr. Katesby came every day. He asked if there was any one belonging to me for whom he could send. "Only Uncle Jeb," said I. "He hates me because I went on the stage, but if the curtain is going to' ring down on me it would only be showing him proper atten tion to inform him." I gave my cross old uncle's address. Be holdl TJhcle Jeb sent back a check for $5,000 and a letter telling the 'doctor not to let me die. "She is a silly child," he wrote, "but her heart is in the right place, except for being set on the stage." I wept over that letter, and thought it rather nice to be dying. One day Dr. Katesby brought his mother, and the next thing I knew I was taken to their home to ('get welV I got well so SUNDAY, JUNE slowly that I wondered the doctor did not lose patience. But he didn't One after noon he sat by me a lone while, telling me of a girl who had jilted him, and who, he thought, had broken his heart forever. I sat up straight in bed and vowed that of all things love was the unkindest most unsat isfactory, crudest worst in the world. We talked a long time, and he seemed to think as I did. In the end we shook bands and he said: "We will be friends, Miss Katie, forever." 'Yes," said I, shaking his hand with both of mine, "and I'm awfully grateful to ?ou. Friendship is so nice, and I do want t" Of a sndden I determined to secure matters, and I looked at him as solemnly as I knew how and said: "Promise me sacred ly that you will never talk to me any way' bat this way, never look at me except as you are looking now, and never, never kiss me." He shook hands again, and I went on: "We will be just friends always." "As long as you like," said he. "Oh! I shall like it always," I answered. "X never go back on a friend. Friendship is the best thing in the world the only safe, happy, comfortable thing isn't it? And we should be very grateful for the happy friendship between us." He said, "yes," and so it was settled. As I got well I was perfectly happy. The doctor was always good to me. He was never too busy to let me come into his office. He even let me pound pills and wash out bottles, and dust his instruments. Some times, when Mrs. Katesby was- tired. I used to see to his breakfast, and even when he discovered that I made the toast I was not forbidden. It seemed to me me that no one had ever been so kind to me. At last I was well enough to go to New York for my May engagement The even ing before I was to start I sat up for the doc tor. Mrs. Katesby had kissed me and told me to. I went wondering abont, touching things that belonged to him. I had a queer feeling in my heart I had been so happy, and dow to go away, and perhaps never I heard his key and ran to open the door. "What, little girl; up?" he said. "Yes," I answered. "Your mother told me to serve your midnight tea. I don't think you'should have midnight tea, but I suppose a doctor knows." "I suppose so," said he, as I helped him shake off his coat I was so quiet at the table that he asked: "Anything the matter?" "Only I'm going to-morrow you know." I returned, "and you wouldn't be lieve how strange it makes me feel here," and I rubbed my hand over the pain in my side. "Your heart?" he asked. "Yes down right miserable," I an swered. He laughed only softly, but I felt hurt, and all of a sudden I could not see. He mast have observed that I was pouring tea into the sugar bowl, for he calledme to him. I thought it troubled him to look up. So I knelt down. "When yon go away," he asked, "will you remember we are friends?" "Yes," said L "Forever?" "Yes," said I again, in a dull voice. "Tell me, Katie," he continued, laying a hand on each of my shoulders, "have I treated you as you wished as I promised?" I nodded, and the tears came up. He looked at me a moment, then said softly: "Friendship is the best thing in the world, the only safe, happy, comfortable thing, isn't it dear? And we should be very grateful for the happy friendship between us." I nodded so hard that the tears spat tered my hands. He stood up quickly: "I am off early to-morrow," he said in a differ ent tone, "and I will say good-by now. Be good in New York: X shall come about the 15th to see you." He held out his hand. It was just what a friend would do, of coarse. 1 pat first one hand and then the other into it Then, as he closed his over both, I bent and kissed it and said: "Good-by. You have been very gooa w me. jriease, piease QOn I lorget me." When I got up stairs I lay down on the floor, and wept until my head was in a paddle. Mrs. Katesby wrote to me sometimes after I came away. She was so lonely that she sent for a niece. The doctor liked his cousin very much. I thought about the cousin all day and all nitfht. At last the 14th of the month came. That nightlplaved so well the manager offered a.rise for th'e next sea son. The 15th was Sunday. He came. I talked like a magpie, and spoke of every thing bat the coasin. When I was talked out be began. , He questioned me closely abont the theater. "Oh, yes," said I, "there is a man, of course. He told me last night he was going to shoot himself. I said no he wouldn t to just take a brandy and soda." The doctor looked dark. "I will not have you associate with such people," he said, grinding his teeth. "What's to be done?" I returned, lightly, adding: "He doesn't bother me mnch only when he takes me to lunch and leans over the table to say in a husky stage whisper that he loves me. How men will do such things at lunches? It's so annoying when one is hungry. You can't go on 'brutally eating pannage wnue a man tells you he has -despair in his heart and a loaded pistol in his pocket can you?" The doctor was not amused. "Do you care for any oi these fellows?" he asked suddenly. For my life I could not tell the truth: "I don't know," I answered sulkily. Then all' at once 1 cried: "Do you care tor your cousin?" "Very much," he answered absently. Then he asked in a strained way if I thought we could still be friends if either of us married, and in the same breath in formed me that he was going to Europe. My heart had been filling up tighter and tighter. Now it burst I gave a gasp. "Are you going to leave me?" I said. "Katie." he said, feeling his way through the words, "there is nothing else lor me to ao. "Don't you care for me at all that you break my heart so?" I cried, pushing my hands hard together, "am I the side of tne house that you look at me as if you did not see me? What have I done that you should treat me as if you hated me? I will not have it; I'll go out and drowmnyself." "iiatie," saia ne steadily, remember the promise you compelled me to make. A great light flashed before my eyes. I stood up and reached oat my hands. "Oh," I said, "I see how cruel I have been to peo ple, for now my own heart breaks. You may hurt me as much as you like. lam no coward. Still I will tell you. I know I made you promise to be my friend and never to love me I know it and you have kept your word. X"ou are going to marry your cousin and go to Europe; but before you go I will tell you that I love you. It is right I should have to say it so and for nothing for I have always been cruel and be lieved no one but now I know it can be trne. Though, my heart breaks I am not afraid, and I say it again Llovn you I love you!" The room went all around, and I began to fall; butaglad cry sounded, and my Doc tor's arms held me up, and my Doctor's voice was saying: "My brave little girl my darling my Kate you have come to me! and I love you with all my soul, andl have from the first" There is no more a Katie Tempest, son- orette. The end. Copyright ISS9. All rights reserved. Anticipating the Bereavement. America. 1 Wilkins Had any bereavement in your family, Elijah? TJhcle Elijah No, lab; I ain't had b'rea vement Whofoh you ask? Wilkins I noticed you had a band of crape on your bat and I did not know but there might have been a loss v in your family. Uncle Elijah No, sah, dat ban' was on de hat when the gen'lemeu give it to me, an' I didn't know when I mought have 'ca tion ter go inter mawnin' so I done let it on like it was., WHAT more soothintr after shavinc or vwlrMhlnfr ffpi ft llnstv 114V .titan T.otmiiIm but the best, by far, you will find is Atkinson's. . Bn HATS. Airs and Graces Interestingly De Bcribed by Shirley Dare SUMMER FABEICS FOR THE FAIK. Some flints on How the flair Should he Dre&ed In Bummer. BED FACES AND HOW TO CUBE THEM IWBXTTX2T FOB TBI DISPATCH. Black lace dresses have been worn in and out of season, from the time the swal low dared and took the winds of March with beauty. The consequence is, by com mon consent they are laid aside, to let the dust flow out, and give the eyes a rest from their stnngmess. The corded Escurial and heavier laces prove do many, nets to hold, the dust and take a rusty look, while the large mesh fisher net looks clear andqnietly dressy, with borders of inch ribbons run on the foot and up the side width. With such dresses a small poke or broader hat of black crinoline,, the old-fashioned Neopolitan braid, looks pretty, trimmed with a scarfpf black net, and bow of fancy black ribbon, which, with its seven loops and notched ends, four yards' is not too much. Narrow sash ribbon ot plain soft gros grain is used for trimming, in loops which nearly cover the hat, and require or admit nothing else, un less a quill feather Of the same color. Every other woman, no matter what her age, wears a turban in town, not more be cause it is youthful than for its conven ience. The full trimming of soft, thick rib bon relieves the turban of extreme jaunti ness, and it is comfortable to wear a hat that its close to the head and admits a veil. The flaring brim of the Hading or Directory hat acts as a mainsail to draw the wind, when there is any, and a toque that can be bound down to the head with a yard ot grenadine veiling is indispensable. The sailor hat proper is the beauty's hat &nd a smooth, satiny-haired brnnette with a fresh white reUgh straw sailor in its smooth gros grain ribbon band'and flat bow takes the eyes up with her up the street Blondes choose black, glossy lough straw, with black silver edged ribbon, while the high-crowned sailor hat, with broad bows of many loops set airi ly on the crown, and folded band lose their juvenility, and take the place of English walking hats or Alpine hats altogether. The newest turbans are colored braids ot whole straw, like braided rushes, in pale green, gobelin blue and old pink to suit costumes, and the price of this stylish simplicity is not less than $20, at the private modistes, where alone tbey are found. THE COST OF BEING FASHIONABLE. It costs a trifle to dress in the front of fashion, when Bedfern's plainest gowns be gin at $65 for sailor suits and 95 lor walk ing dresses, and a coaching hat with 11 plumes is cheap at $25. But London ladies are beginning to look round for ways to economize in dressing, and no longer find it necessary to pay ruinous bills to swell tailors and modistes. They leave that to the new Americans who go to get christened into good society at the high-priced shops, while Mrs. Pendennis and her pretty sisters attend the bargain sales and make up half price materials behind the portieres of their own rooms at home. An embroidered crape wool at $5, the dress which was $13 two weeks ago, looks just as pretty and a clever woman can make a dress in the sim pler styles now in vogue in two or fhrM. days at the outside. The China silks at 38 cents a yard make up charmingly with white lace blouse fronts, and m judicious use of pearl edged' ribbons, and white Shanghai silk at $10 for a full pattern, and ecru pongee from 12 M to 25 cents a yard Is as plenty as it is fashionable. But pongee is painfully poor looking made up with plain waist and stringy skirt, commonly seen. It should have the surplice or gathered waist with wide soft sash, and the full Empire Bkirt with narrow ruffled and chestnut vel vet, or cream and brown embroideries for relief. White cashmere and flannel soil too easily for lasting wear, and ecru in pale shades for dark, aressess, and the "wet sand" color for blondes, offers a serviceable change. The "wet sand" shade with yel low gold, cream and brown embroidery and brown silk facings sets off a warm blonde most becomingly, turning all the red tints of the hair to wheat-like, golden effects. The experience of this summer will con vince many wearers that silk of the lightest sort is not a cool fabric It draws and heats the skin, especially under a July sun, in credibly, and the patent leather shoes which are so happily going out of fashion, com plete the torture. A few wearers of indi vidual taste have elegant dresses of black linen lawn, in directory styles, with blouses of white Shanghai silk, highly em broidered between the clustered gathers, and with ruffles or mechlin. with feather stitching of black silk in excellent effect The crisp, fresh look of the lawn and its feeling recommend it above silk for mid summer wear Morning jackets of white birdseye linen or the fine Barnesly damask, trimmed with linen crochet point or Medici lace last for a lifetime and are handsome as they are serviceable. FOB SUMMER COMFOBT. The comfortable addition to the toilet this season is Mha new linen corset just out, so cool, so light and well fashioned that women will covet it at sight. The material is a single thickness of fine, firm shirting linen, and precisely like the best French corset', and bearing the magic O. P. stamp, which will assnre all good dressers ot its irre proachable figure. The steels are easily re moved for washing, and as few bones are used as a corset of good style allows. The price is $2 75. Tall walking canes for ladies are inft shown in a highly fashionable shop, the last importation ot Parisian seaside fancy. The canes are white enameled wood or ebony, nearly five feet tall, thick as a stout walk ing stick, and finished by gold or silver heads, and a cord and tassel lower down, in fan atmilA tl'fliA at!V Aa.vi.il l.w .. a!-.. facsimile of the stick carried by a Swiss fuaru or a major uomo. xhe fashion is, owever, not wholly to be laughed at It is a great relief to delicate women to have some slight support in walking, and I personally found one's strength wonderfully eked out by a cane or crutch. It is all the difference between coming home fagged out by a walk, or coming with strength gained. People with spinal ailments, not fancy ones, but real, deepseated maladies, will go out feeling iresh and pretty vigorous lor an hour or two, when suddenly the strength gives way. It is anTeffort to stand upright, and the comfort of a stick or crutch is too friendly to be told. I have often' thought of writing a sonnet to my own crutch-for the comfort it has been the best friend, with my pillow and my pen that I have ever known. The great trouble away from home with girls seems to be to heat their curling tongs, without gas in the daytime or any sort of fire in the country boarding-house. I have just had to find for two friends up in the Catskills a cunning contrivance ot an alco hol pocket lamp, with a wire support for the curling iron while heating. The whole thing costs IS cents, shuts in a pasteboard case, isjight enough to go by mail and small enouzhtogo in the pocket I know girls will thank me for "mentioning of it," as country folk say. How to keep the hair in curling order is another thing, and to do this one mnst keep the natural oil ont of the locks, washing the front hair with borax or with a dilution of ammonia, one table spoonful of ammonia to the quart of water When dry moisten with bandoline and put in crimp till it dries again. Wetting the hair with alcohol in hot weather tends to diminish its danmness. and sBravincr thn temples and ton of the head with t.v.n.r. wafo. fW,m ai .tnmFni. ll.u 1....J headache without the drenching by water. which spoils the hair u'iwa-r. T'r must be washed as often as once a week the warm season through to keep it silky, as it grows stiff with imperceptible dust settled on the rings of the hair, if neglected, caus ing a difference in the shade of color. A NEW Y0B5 CHARACTER. For the last 15 years whenever a corre spondent was short of a subject he turned a paragraph on Miss Middy Morgan, agri cultural editor of the Time. My reason for writing of her is not quite the same, but some recollections were brought up by see ing her the other day at her desk on the spacious editorial floor of the new Times building. The grand old girl looks a thought grayer and more gaunt than she used, but I shall always remember her by the splendid symmetrical modeling of her figure in bathing- dress years ago. Her neck and arms: from the wide sloping shoul ders to the finger tips were perfection, and the face above them, in its early days, was a type of blue-eyed, dark-haired, thorough bred Irish good looks. Well, being in amicable conversation with this authority on grazing once, I innocently asked her to explain to me what was meant by "grade cattle," a phrase frequently used in stock reports. "Ob, its no use," responded the daughter of the Irish rings, tossing her head. "You couldn't understand it if I did explain it." That was rather a taking down, but I like plain speaking far too well to quarrel with its eccentrici ties, and as I since learned without Eeculiar effort ot mind that grade cattle aye a definite proportion of pare blood, no harm was done. Two years after I found myself lame,dependent upon a crutch at the Erie depot in Jersey City in charge of a great basket of snpplies going up country, and not a soul to help with it. The person who was to meet me had failed to connect, as usual, no boy was about when needed, and those tons railway platforms take you almost into the country before you reach the cars. I was moving slowly and pain! ally along, my crutch under one arm and that 40-pound basket nearly wrenching the other out of the socket,, when a strong hand swung the burden from my grasp, and that tall, easy figure of -a demi-goddess in an old waterproof dress glided by my side with it, as if carrying heavy baskets were the most natural thing in life. Sordid not let go of it till we were safely cared for, talking kindly and genially all the way, and that was the last I saw of her for many a day, How many times since in dreams that strong kind arm has come, relieving my strain and weakness like the sweep of some ready angel in working garb. How many women could help another so or would do it if they coma. AN3tVEB3 TO INQUIRIES. Caryophjll wishes for a list of entertaining books "suited to develop a taste for reading in a circle of ladies and girls, who find much that Is recommended rather dulL" Of course tbey do. A middle-aged young lady lately told me she had tried to cultivate a taste for reading, and began Middlemarch, but confessed she found it so heavy she never finished it. She might as well have-begun to like reading by taking Bishop Snath's sermons. JHJdlemarch and all George Eliot's novels are thoughtful books for persons cl advanced tasto and ripe minds. It takes a fine order of mind and ex perience to ba a good novel reader, one who tasiea wiia ajscreuon ana savors wnat ne tastes. People want something whioh appeals to their own sympathies, and their own run of ideas. I always tell women unused to reading to begin with Mrs. Gaskill's Cranford," that humorous sympathetic little story of women's lives in a quiet Edfcllsh village. Tbey are preiiy sure 10 reiisa we story 01 tne tea clnnk- ln nrs. so intensely rented, and of the niuav who swanowea me 01a point iace soaung in milk to whiten ft, and who bad to take an emetic In consequence, and of the cow that fell in a lime pit and lost her hair and went about in a blue flannel snit her mistress made her, and all the droll pathetic happenings so deftly told by a line authon Then Miss Woolson's -Castle Nowhere" is a most poetic and picturesque collection of stories, revealing the un suspected interest of our own interior country and characters. That and Miss Phelps1 "Sealed Orders," with its authentic histories of our Eastern coast, are books I want to read over every summer. "Vlllette," by Charlotte Bronte, is the best depiction of feminine character in fiction, which in this case is founded on fact, and the fiction is so finely wrought, I never knew anyone fail to be interested by it. "On a Cast" is one of tbe very best later American stories, light; lifelike and so brilliant as to obliee one to read with .".. , .. 1 . 1 . . . 1 "..: attention whether he will or not, Mrs. Oli Bhant's "Llttla Pilirrim" and "Stories nt tha Beyond" are , sure to thrill and enchant ever reader not cut from nether millstone, and she alone brings some of the blissfulness of para dise within our verge of feeling. All that Rose Terry Cooke has written and all Mary Wilkins' stories should go into tbe list and Mrs. Lynn Lynton's novels, tbe most forcible and tine drawn of any woman's work to-day, rich with exquisite, keen philosophiz ing, on topics which most interest women. Ilerr is a list fit to interest a girl or a philoso pher, as nearly perfect in literary merit as any fiction to be named, and so lively that the most unlettered hearer could be fascinated by them, and if a season of such reading does not de velop a taste lor something more advanced, it will not be the fault of these writers. It is worth the annoyance of many stupid let ters to receive one like that which follows, and be able to help the frank girl's trouble. Sav ing in all confidence that she is owner of a good complexion and is called pretty, she goes on: "But there is one thing that will ruin my life If it keeps on, and it is just this: When I go out in tbe summer my face gets as red as a beet. Erenln winter it is sometimes tbe same way, but in the summer it is terrible. It just seems as if every droD of blood in my bod v roes into my face. It does not come from overeating, for I am a very light eater. I have a beau, and he asked me to go on an excursion lately, but I re fused for this reason, but I did not tell him so. I am not 19 and father and mother both like him. I have plenty of friends and good clothes and play the planabut these things are nothing tome. I am utterly miserable. If you can give anything that will cure me I will never forget you ." A man might well bo prond of mo lavor 01 a eiri nag can wroe sucn a sweet, frank, honest letter. She must forgive me if I give tbe world to read lines it will bo tbe better for a posy of sweet brier and sweet peas, with the dew on- them. I wish all heart troubles were as easy to cure. Tbe deter mination of blood to tbe head in snch cases comes from too sedentary a life and is remedied by dally baths and rubbing all over, adosa of purgative medicine, say a des sert spoonful of Epsom salts, followed by a seidlitz powder before breakfast for a week, with Graham bread, berries and cracked wheat for at least two meals a day. .Beside this, one should spend as much as possible of every day in tbe open air, sewing, reading, lounging out of doors on porch or lawn. Even in tbe city, sitting on a, balcony or by an open window is better tban heme indoors. This Tet ter is written on a back porch in a New York street, whiclCafforda a glimpse of red gerani ums, a tree hung with fine new caterpillar tents, and a waft of fresh Jersey air from across tho river, which shows how much of natural sights and freshness are attainable be tween city walls. "Marlon" ougbt to know that nnllme snnerflaons hair out bv tweezers increases its growth. Better cut'the hair close to the roots with sharp scissors, then pull it out. The remedy for superfluous hair & a se cret. Powdered magnesia or very fine chalk are good for oily sVIns, as the alkaline powuer neutralizes the oil, and as the ducts are choked with over secretion of fat. the powder can do no harm by closing tbe pores for tha few hours in society, during ublch powder is worn. The face should be carefully washed with soap before and after using pow der. There is a fine preparation of fullers earth sold by a London chemist which is good for greasy skins, and strong camphor is the best thing forrenning the large pores of tha noso and chin. Washine Titian colored hal. in weak ammonia dilution, a tablcspoonful t0 icree quarts ol watec ana drying 11 in cue sun lightens tbe color. The questions on toilet asked, coarse bread and taraxacum treatment have all been an swered in previous numbers of these articles, to which querists are referred. Hereafter, letters addressed-to Mr., Mrs., Miss. Madam or Br. Shirley Dare will stand a good chance of not being answered at 'all. Why cannot people learn that tbe only way to address a writer is Impersonally, My only addre: msmo or outside oc a letter. a for readers is Sbzbxxt Dabz. Tbey Had 3Iet Before. Burllnzton Tree Press.i Miss Sweetlip Algy, dear, I have got a distressing piece of news for you. Pa has gone and bought a large dog. Algernon Tightfit Where did he get him? MissSweetlip Of Mr. Brown. Algernon Tightfit Oh, I'm not afraid. (Sotto voice I made friends with that dog when I was courting Amanda Brown i) A Bundle of Nerves. This term is often applied to people whose nerves are abnqjrmally sensitive. They should strengthen them with Hostetter's Stomach Itinera. Aftef a course of that benlen tonic, they will cease ta be conscious that they hare nervous sysiesas,Vexcept through agreeable sensations. Ir-wiH enable them te'eat, sleep and digest well, te three media fer increasing tone and rIg8oi7'fee 'nerves, la aowmonwith m reason saefysnemv. xne nowenoy Mima a; apMR '$ff H EMMM worry be- rf"IlWM4Hr,-aw. U- jzem&' THE MRESIDE SPHINX A Ciectfon of MmM Huts fir Hois CracMig. Addreu communication! for tMt Oepartmmt fc E. B. Chadboubn. Lewiiton, Maine. 644 AN OLD FBOVEBB ILLUSTRATED. Copyright 1&9 by E.K. Cbadbourn.1 mr He marched off to the war, the Ceres t.eto surprise. But he came very near being slain. For two bullets made holes In the place of his eves. And a big bomb-shell blew out his brain. Pass on, gentle reader, and shed not a tear. Let the sad sigh of grief be repressed; But tell me: What proverb (sometimes deemed austere) Does his napless condition suggest? E. W-Habbts, 645 teddy's ?OUETH. Our four-year-old Ted was so anxious For tha Fourth of July to bo ', He really grew quite impatient That it came only once in a He began to prepare for it long Ere anyone else back in We'd laugh as he'd'4sk every day, "Say, Mammal won't it be here t His pin-wheels and rockets were ready. The fire-crackers in bnnches ; His nickels and cents he'd been saving For this purpose for months, the dear , Remembered a little from last year His brothers bad told him the ; He expected this year to enjoy it, So he had prepared with a . At last we grew tired of his asking; I thought Iwould tell him once . I took the painted calendar cards And told him when it came to . Just five days from then, it would be here; He watched the cards lift ud and I thought that be now understood it And said, "Now he's on the right I was roused tha next morn with a bang; And sorang up with "What is the V Then I opened my window at once And there saw the cause of the n. Ted's fire-crackers lay in a smoking heap. The matches were still in bis He looked np at me and shouted, "O. ma! It's the Fourth of July, ain't it ! When told of his mistake he pointed up To tbe calendar on the ; "There's four on top, so what Is wrong?" He had torn off the cards that was Weil I he found what a blnnder he'd made The Fourth cannot be hurried He'll his rockets and firecrackers save And wait till it comes, the next . EVANGEXnTB. 676 BOTASICAIi ENIGMA. The whole of 117 letters is a stanza addressed to flowers. 38, 24. 109, 3L . 8, 8L 117, 39. 2. 18, 8, 18, is now the most popular lata autumn blooming perennials. 60, 33. 27, 42. 79, M. 4, 38. 86, 9, 62, orlonicera, is a twlnlne ubrub. also called woodbine. 67, 89. 63,6,38.112,85.32,18,85, 18, Is specie of gnaphalium, tbe most beautiful of the everlastings. 10, 9, 4, 78, 2a 19. 7. 105. 9, 2, or cornflower. Is a. specie of centaarea, of tha composite family. 47. a, 94, S3. 17, 12. 66, 75, 70, 41, or oxalis, a genus Of tho geranium family. 35, 88, 34. 81. 108, 36. 101, 61. 118, 77, is a twin ins vine and genus of acanthus. 23. 30, 55, 99. 48. It 22, 68, 48. is a species of taraxacum, producing yellow flowers from spring to antnmn. 38.80.115,82,92,25.52,64,106,1s a species of iberis. a genus of tbe mustardamlly. i, zo, ta, 102, ti, a, is, vi, oroerDeris,isasnruo with yellow flowers in racemes. 63. 43, 69. 114. 111. 69-5. 36. 91, is a species of monarda. a genus of the mint family. 23. 103, 60, 4a 65. 22, 100, 18. 13, or pelargoni ums, are shrubby plants of house and summer garden culture. 16, 110, 49. 63. U, 42, 87, 15. 2, is parasitic on tha branches of trees, and much used for Christmas decoration. 64.37,68.7,97,74,110,9, or narcissus, produc ing double vellow flowers in early spring. - 82, 99, 29, 69, 107, 45, 96, or cornel, is a small tree flowerlnc in late spring. 71, 6. 65. It, 2, 113, is the principal genus of the orderviola; also the name of a color. 23. 84. 115. 104, 98, or bellis, is a genus of the composite family. -Maggie M'Leah. 647 ANAGEAM. Tha study of far eastern tongues Engages many minds. And eastern lands, and eastern art Man interesting finds. You'll find it profitable, too. These eastern lands to scan: Their ancient lore to understand, "O learn tt" If you can. Nemo. 618 A STEASOE TKAHOTOBaiATirar. I saw a man walk down tba street. He looked to be quite happy and gay: At once, from out nis heart there jumped A rodent, which scampered away. Of course he fell: I went to him. And quickly turned his head around. Then placed it by his other part. And was surprised that a State I had found. Fhase. 649 HOTJB GLASS. 1. Great abundance. 2 Profund. 3. Per taming to or derived from oblc acid. 4. A. bond. 5. Before. 6. A letter. 7. Keen resentment. 8. Splendor. 9. A scholar, la Assiduous. 11. Discountenanced. Diagonals Ltft to right down. Author ized b v an example of a like kind. Ltft to right up. Disagreements. CmrrBALS. Up. Cov ered trenches, below tbe surface of the ground, with joints, interstices or openings, through which the water may percolate from tbe soil or ground above. Cax, Arf do. 650 THE MEANEST BTSD. Among the birds that pipe or thrill In erassy vale or wooded hill, Tbere lives not one upon the wing So poor a fowl, so mean a thing. As one that lives in town. 4 The owlsmayhoot. tbenighthawks screech, The whip-poor-will may ape our speech, The crow may scream his scornful caw. But none are like this human daw; Which should bo hooted down. He dons a gaudy coat and vest And thinks himself quite finely dressed. To show himself from door to door. Who mostly be is deemed to bore. And greeted with a frown. You cannot oust him out of sight He will pop in, as old friends might. O, tell him go, and till tbe soil. As does an honored son of toll, . Or honest country down. 8XA, - XSSYTEBS. 635 The letter E P-Mate, p-i-rate, p-I-Iot wra t-tb. 636 L Snow-flakes. Z Shoe-nails. 3. A camp. 4. Pirate, Irate. 5. The letter A A. Police. 7. The letter X 8L L-ink. 9. Nose, la Eyes. U. Mls(s)-count. 12. Palm. 637 Rock-rent. , 6381. Pronunclamento. 2. Obtumescence. 638 B B If B- TJ T B V T, T BUTTE BUTTER BUTTERY 640 Summer is here. 2. The enigma is acrostic, 641 Unite, nntle. f 642 H-allowed, allowed, all owed. O wed, luncu. X2. lu, nai, jijiu, HUM, juujavr, au, 648 Poverty. if. Soplnard, the great French asifcrep pologlst, has been led by the shape of tfe let bones of the "men ot Spj'jto the couclnslo fc that these remote ancestors of tha Tinman nee had their lower extremities half beat ts tkaeAi aatbrepeM apes at tetafetttreeaA jsrk Ld m v iaTssui EI3PMBggWglMBIIB ?.k mmmzd; .