New York dispatch. [volume], August 09, 1885, Page 2, Image 2

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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2
“ You would not have turned your brother’s
>nly child from your door seventeen years ago,
mother? No, I suppose not; neither would I,”
interrupted the daughter, with a low, unpleas
ant laugh. “But all these regrets and this re
trospection are not to the point. The past is
lone with, only the present remains, and—six
ty thousand pounds. It’s a big sum to let go
without a struggle—a big sum ! Do you know,
Harcourt, that but for the discouraging ac
count you give of this Balcara I’d be almost
inclined to pay the nighborhood a visit this
Summer, and make my precious cousin’s ac
quaintance ?”
“ You would, Haidee ?” he exclaimed, his sal
low face brightening. “By Jove, I never
thought of that before I Yes, yes, you might
do some good.” Then, after a pause, he
added, with an awkward laugh—“ You know,
my dear, you must not accept the jaundiced
pictures of a jilted man as a fair report. Geo
graphically speaking, Balcara is a lovely spot,
with one ol the grandest coast-lines in Europe.
And the natives are a well-meaning lot, over
flowing with hospitality. You’d go down there
like a shot and—and—that old chum of yours,
Bossmire, has a seat in the neighborhood.”
“ But he is never there.”
“ He is going down this month, I give you my
word. He has half a dozen horses entered lor
the Clonboyne races; the Greenes begged me to
wait for them. You’ll go, won’t you, Raid?
You won t have half a bad time of it, I promise
you, and you can wear out your season’s tog
gery with killing effect.”
“ Yea, and givo up my yachting with the
Gore-Joneses, my fortnight on the moors and
Homburg and—and —half a dozen other Autumn
engagements !”
“ But the stake, Haidee—the stake 1” pleaded
the mother eagerly. “ And he is your only
brother—remember that 1”
“ But doos he deserve that I should sacrifice
myself to him,” the giri asked contemptuously
—“ a man who in one year loses three fortunes
through his indolence and selfishness ?”
“ Come—come, Haidee, draw it mild 1” he in
terrupted sulkily. “Three fortunes ”
“Yes, three fortunes, with three different
women. First of all, there was that brewer's
girl, with the long jaw, who was on the point of
accepting you, and would have done so, had
you not, in defiance of my solemn warning, in
sisted on coaching those London women to San
down, instead of attending her garden party the
day she was so anxious to have you. I told
you that that drive would cost ninety thousand
pounds and it did. Then, secondly, there was
that big American widow, whom you ”
“ Oh, hang it, what's the good of raking up
all those old grievances now ? In the present
caso, I tell you, I am not to blame, as you
yourself will see, if you decide on paying Bal
cara a visit. I can tell you 1 left a most favor
able impression behind me and took my conge
■with a suppressed gentlemanly anguish that
brought tears almost to the dairy maid’s eyes—
rather bright eyes they are, too, but of the
wrong color. You’ll go, won’t you, Haidee ?
You sha’n’t repent it, I promise you, if things
Bhould turn out square for me. And then you
will be combining business with pleasure ;
poaching is a pastime you’re very partial to,
Bister mine. You took to it naturally before yoa
Were out of the nursery.”
Haidee laughed lazily; the mother and son
drew near her and talked together in low, eager
tones, until the carriage came round to bear the
ladies to half a dozen “at homes,” for the
Drummonds, mother and daughter, always
V did” the season exhaustively.
CHAPTER IV.
“she’s a hard pill to swallow.”
“Look at my watch—look at my watch, if you
don’t believe me !” cried Jane, dangling a blue
enameled time-piece across her lover’s drowsy
face as he lay full length on the mossy sward of
the beach-grove at the farther side of the lake.
“Don’t you see?
»• ‘ The hands stand as crooked as crooked can be,
The long at the twelve and the short at the
three.’
If she should have chanced to arrive by the two
forty-five train, how disgraceful it will be 1
Jim, get up, do !”
“ Give me a hand. By Jove, cricket in August
floes take the backbone out of a fellow, and no
mistake I It was so jolly lying there 1 Hang
khat Miss Drummond ! What brings her here at
*ll, at all?”
“Now, Jim, you have asked me that question
pearly every day for the last fortnight, and I
pave answered you always the same. I couldn’t
5o otherwise her here after the nice
way Harcourt behaved and the charming let
ters his mother wrote, particularly when she
Baid her daughter was so anxious to make my
acquaintance, and was coming to stay with some
people in the neighboring county. Do you think
[ like it better than you—having to entertain a
Fashionable young lady whom I don’t care two
pence about? I am sure, if you behave as
badly to poor Haidee as you did to her brother,
I’ll have a pleasant time of it for the next twelve
lays 1 Haidee Vane Drummond ! Why, the
Buphony of her name ought to make you like
her j Haidee I It carries one away to the Bos
phorus, Cashmere, Bendemeer—all sorts of
lovely Byronic and Mooreonio scenes ’ What
heads of god-parents I must have had, now that
I come to think of it I Jane, such a flat, bald,
homely, monosyllable—Jane 1”
“ Never you mind; I like it, and that’s the
Chief thing. Haidee is an absurd name for a
Christian female, and, unless your present
cousin has an olive skin, languishing velvet
eyes, and serpentine movement of body, which
is very unlikely, to judge of the only family
specimen I’ve seen, why, what a fool she must
feel herself ! Haidee—absurd !”
It was three weeks since Miss Drummond had
Consented to sacrifice herself to her brother’s
welfare. Mrs. Drummond had written a very
fliplomatic letter, making a delicate allusion to
her son’s deep, unalterable affection for Jane,
*t the same time hoping that the kindly rela
tions between the families would remain un
affected by his misfortune. Then she casually
mentioned Haidee’s intended visit to Ireland
that month, wondered if the girls would meet,
being in neighboring counties, hoped if they
Aid not, that Majo.i Aylmore and Jane would
Dome to them for a month in the Spring, et
Cetera,
This letter resulted, as she had expected, in a
dressing invitation dictated by the hospitable
£lajor, which Haidee duly accepted.
1 To Jane’s great annoyance, three day’s be
fore their guest’s arrival, Uncle Jim had to go
Jo London on urgent business, which he feared
fcvould keep him absent for some time, and
jhis place was very inadequately filled by his
{second cousin, Miss Belinda Croker, a maiden
Jady of uncertain age and very uncomfort
able religious views, who was laboring under
the conviction that the Day of Judgment was
'to take place on the 29th of November of the
existing year—a conviction which was so'power
fully and emphatically confirmed by divine
revelation to one Ezekiel Hopkins, prophet
>nd shoemaker, her spiritual director for" the
Reason, that Miss Croker had already begun the
of her property in various chari
ties through his inspired agency. In the cir
cumstances she was not a very cheerful chap
!»ron. She took interest in no earthly matter;
oy or sorrow, health or sickness were alike to
ter now. What did anything matter when,
hree months hence, that teeming, throbbing
tolanet called the world would return to the
Chaos whence it sprang ? Miss Belinda sat all
pay, her hands clasped, blind to the Summer
fiunshine, the happy, smiling faces of the two
young lovers, seeing nothing but the horrors of
that terrible Judgment Day.
“Oh, Jim, look !” cried Jane in dismay, when
they at last reached the house. “ There’s Kav
ftnagh beckoning frantically from the dining
room window. She has come by the two-forty
five. Oh, lam bo sorry I”
Hand in hand they hurriedly entered. Jim
Suddenly fell against the hat-stand, with hands
extended in horror toward a row of mighty
trunks that lined the walls of the front hall as
far as the mouth ol the kitehen stairway.
/ “ Look, Jenny—look I She has come to spend
ft couple of years, with half a dozen siste’rs, a
few cousins, an aunt or two ”
“Sorra a one but herself and her maid, Mas
ther Jim 1” broke m old Kavanagh, the patri
archal butler and tyrant of the household, in a
hoarse whisper. “I'm waitin’ for some 01. the
men to come in from the harvest to get the
gangway clear; there's two more boxes out in
the yard; we couldn’t get nigh the frout door.’’
“Oh, Jim, this looksawful! She—she must
have misunderstood my she must be
(joining to stay ”
“Till the Day of Judgment, at any fate !”
“ Whist—she’ll hear you I She’s in the draw
ing-room all be herself. I toiild Miss Croker to
come down and receive her; but she was groan
in’ so bad she didn’t heer me.”
“Come in with me, Jim,” said Jane, advanc
ing desperately. “ Wait a moment, though, un
til I tidy you a bit, Dear, dear, you look as if
you had slept in a bog all night; you are cov
ered with leaves, bits of grass and moss ! Bend
your head; there are three ants and a wood
epider exploring the back of your neck and half
a moth in your hair. Tou look as limp and as
Bulky as ”
“No wonder, when I feel the weight of the
nuptial hand on me already ! What will it be
when the law puts me into your power alto
gether?”
“ Well, it is not too late. I’ll let you go easily,
sir.”
“ Would you, my dear ? I doubt it—l doubt
it I” whispered Jim, imprisoning the saucy up
turned lace, and then Kavanagh looked dis
creetly away.
A minute later Jane, with a little extra color
in her ruddy cheeks, entered the drawing-room
and then suddenly paused on tha threshold.
Lying in an easy-chair at the open window
was the strangest-looking woman she had ever
seen in her life, a woman lair almost to ghastli
ness, with small pinched features, bloodless
lips, white eyebrows and lashes, and masses ot
silky, straw-colored hair coiled round her head.
“ Consin Haidee, is it you ? lam so ashamed
of myself—so sorry !” stamered Jane, quietly
advancing. “But we thought—we did not know
you were coming by the early train.”
“Don’t trouble, pray,” said Haidee, putting a
limp hand into her cousin's. “I have been
quite comfortable resting here.”
“I am so glad to have this opportunity of
making your acquaintance,” Jane went on,
nervously. “It—it was very good of you to
come.”
You are kind to say so,” murmured Hai
<dee. as it she were half asleep.
Then there was an awkward pause before
jjane spoke again.
if “ Haidee, will you allow me to introduce—l—
I mean this is Jim, my uncle, Major Aylmoro’s
Haidee lilted a pair of drowsy green eyes,
bent her head slightly to the young man, who,
advancing with friendly, outstretched band,
had te withdraw in much conlusion, his hand
some lace crimson from temple to chin.
“My aunt,” Jane said, spasmodically—"is
she quite well?”
“Quite, thanks.”
“ You will let me get you some tea at once;
do—it will refresh you after your journey.”
“I beg your pardon. Tea? Yes, I should
like some.”i
Jane hurried out of the room with a sigh of
relief, and young Aylmore, paintully conscious
ol his soiled flannels, rumpled locks, unwashed
hands, sat staring stupidly at his languid guest
until the silence became too oppressive for
him.
“ You must have had a tiresome journey,
Miss Drummond. Did you stay the- night in
Dublin ?”
“No, I have been staying with friends in
Roscommon; all exertion fatigues me. Would
you pull my chair a little to the left ? The light
is too strong on my face. My footstool—you
have kicked it away.-’ •
“I beg your pardon. How very clumsy I
am 1” he muttered, groping at her feet. “ Will
that do? Are you comfortable now ? Are your
cushions right ?”
“Quite.”
She gave him a slow, cold smile, and her pale
lashes drooped again, exhausted.
“A clumsy Apollo !” thought Miss Haidee.
“ But very promising material, I think—very
promising. Harcourt was right—you are o fine
animal, Mr. Jim, a liner animal than I expect
ed; it will be rather fun working you.” Then,
alter another stealthy, approving glance:
“ ‘Eyes of deep unholy blue and true Hyperion
locks,’ eh—the pity on’t, the pity on’t, that I
should have to shear you, bonny Samson I Oh
dear ! How long that little dairymaid is about
the tea! I wish she would hurry up. What a
relation to have 1 Even with seventy thousand,
she’d be a hard pill to swallow 1”
CHAPTER V.
“A BLOODLESS LOBELET.”
“At last—at last I can breathe agaim ! Jim,
dear, give my hands a rub, will you ? Try if
you can get the circulation back lor me. Did
you ever feel such clammy lingers ? Ugh !
Their touch ran up my arm to the shoulder
blade when she said good night.”
The long evening was ended. Since the after
noon, Miss Haidee had lain in the same dreamy,
comatose state, suffering herself to bo attended
on, watched by, sung to, spoken at by her puz
zled, anxious hosts, she in no wise contributing
to dispel the chill of her presence. At last, with
a frank yawn, she had announced herself as
ready for bed.
“ Jim,” Jane went on, while he was mechan
ically obeying her request, “ wasn’t it an awful
evening? I’d rather spend the eve of the Day
of Judgment shut up in a room with Belinda
than go through this night again ! Oh, isn’t she
a detestable girl? So dull, so selfish, and so
so freezingly ugly; isn’t she —eh? Just like the
Albino we saw at Galway fair.”
“She hasn’t pink eyes.”
“ N-o; but she has everything else—skin, hair,
eyebrows, all.”
“ She certainly is a strange-looking woman,”
Jim admitted musingly—“ very strauge. There
is something so still and eerie about her, such a
transcendent self-satisfaction about her every
movement, that she casts quite a spell over me.”
“ A very nasty spell 1”
“Y-es, of course. I must have a eigar to
shake it off; good night, sweetheart—good
night.”
“ Well, one good thing about her is, she won’t
stay long here. I never saw any human being
look so bored as she did to night. Evidently
we’re not her style, you and I, Jim; and she
won’t get a man in Balcara to stand her insuf
ferable airs, I know. I think we’ve behaved
like angels to her, as it is, and yet did not give
satisfaction. The chances are she won t even
stay the week; don’t you think so, Jim? Per
haps her boxes won’t be brought in from the
stables at all.”
“ Perhaps not. Good night, Jenny.”
* * * * * *
The gay morning air cast off the vaguely un
pleasant spell. The lovers were up at six o’clock
and returned to breakfast in high spirits and
ravenously hungry, wet to the ankles in dew,
and laden with a basket of fat, pink-fluted mush
rooms. Jane, having ascertained from Miss
Drummond’s maid that her mistress would not
probably emerge from her room until eleven
o’clock, started on foot for Greene Park, to ask
Mrs. Greene to chaperon them to the tennis
party that afternoon, leaving Jim behind on
guard, at which he had grumbled considerably,
declaring he had work to superintend at the
iarm, that he must positively ride over to his
“trainers” to see how his mare was working, et
cetera; but finally she left him stretched on the
lawn, commanding a view ot the vailed window
of the guest chamber, with his pipe and the
morning paper, somewhat reconciled to his
post, having reluctantly promised to do the
honors ol the breakfast table, in case Jane was
late.
Jane was late, and the blazing sun was pour
ing its unfiltered rays upon her weary head as
she trudged home, some hours later, along the
dusty quarry road. Her dress was dark and
heavy tor the season, the morning having been
fresh when she started, and she had forgotten
her parasol. The glare hurt her eyes, the heat
blistered' her face, and a swarm of gnats settled
on her unprotected neck and wrists, hence her
temper was not of the sweetest when she reach
ed the wood that fringed the lake, and then,
walking under the sweet, green aisle, on a car
pet of dewy moss, her spirits revived, and she
began to think of the state of affairs at home.
“ I wonder,” she muttered, hall aloud, “if
the snow-flower has opened her green eyes yet,
or has Jim’s appointment been a sinecure ?
She can’t be sleeping still, surely. Oh !”
Jane stopped suddenly, startled into involun
tary admiration.
Within a few yards ot where she stood, lying
in a hammock, swung between the silver
stemmed beeches overhanging the lake, was
Haidee, in a loose white garment, shapeless but
mystically graceful. Her flaxen hair was un
bound, hanging about her and picturesquely
straying through the meshes of her airy cradle.
Her hands were uplifted and crossed at the
back ol her head, thus revealing the white,
shapely arms almost to the shoulder-blade, and
the lull contour of her willowy figure, over
which some water lilies and long, spiky grasses
were carelessly thrown.
Thus lay Haidee, posed for the morning,
young Aylmore’s Hyperion curls bent reverent
ly over her, his face wearing the same puzzled,
dreamy look it had worn the night before, one
hand busy rocking his dainty burden, the other
armed with a bunch ot bracken, fanning away
the gnats and midges that swarmed round the
water’s edge.
Jane stood for several minutes nnperoeived.
The fact was reluctantly dawning upon her
shocked senses that Haidee’s ghastly fairness
in certain circumstances could be attractive
and picturesque—that, lor instance, her pres ■
ent clever mise en scene—hanging over the dark
shadowy waters, enshrouded in the soft green
gloom—transformed her into a water nixie, a
bloodless Lorelei, uncanny enough to lore any
mariner, inexperienced in aesthetic wiles, to his
doom.
“ Jane—is that you ? How—how long have
you been standing there ? I never heard you
coming up.”
Jane, without answering her lover’s startled
inquiry, walked quickly to her cousin and said,
brusquely:
“Good morning, Haidee. I hope you have
had a good night's rest”
“ Yes, thanks, very,’ closing her eyes with an
ill-repressed shudder as the other’s crimson,
freckled face leaned over her. “How warm
you are, Jane !• You positively smell of dust
and sunshine I”
“So I ought,” with a short laugh, “ alter a
two-mile walk along the quarry road without a
sunshade. You look cool enough, at any rate.”
“ Yes, your brother—no, your cousin—well,
Mr. Jim here insisted on enticing me to this
spot. I’m glad I came now. I think I’ll spend
all my mornings hanging over tfiis lake.”
There was a pause, broken by Jim.
“ Did you find yonr friends at home, Jane?”
“ Some I did and some I didn’t The Greenes
are-not going this afternoon, so Mrs. Eergnson
said she would call on her way and chaperon
ua. I’ve arranged to walk across the glen.
Now I must go in. Remember, luncheon is at
half-past one.”
“Jane, Jane, what is to be done? Here’s
Miss Drummond feels she cannot go a step
farther—she is quite ill.”
“ What is the matter with her ? She was all
right when we left ten minutes ago,” asked
Jane, turning a little impatiently to where her
cousin, in an attitude of painful exhaustion, was
leaning against a tree. “Are you ill, Haidee ?”
“ One of my bad nervous headaches coming
on. I fear I must return at once and lie down
for the rest of the afternoon.”
“ I’m so sorry I” said Jane cordially. “ I will
return with you at once.”
But this suggestion Mies Drummond, with a
qu.te unusual animation, opposed. She would
not hear of Jane’s sacrificing her afternoon’s
amusement. Beside, she did not heed her; her
maid knew how to treat her better than any one
else; so Jane had reluctantly to give in and the
invalid returned, escorted by her host, who
promised to follow the party as quickly as nos
sible and probably overtake them before they
reached their destination.
“But Jim did not overtake them; the after
noon wore on, dancing succeeded tenuis; Jane
played, laughed, danced, to all appearance en
joyed herself thoroughly; but her bright, rest
less eyes wandered anxiously to the door every
minute—in vain; her lover did not come, not
even to fetch her home, and instead of the
moonlight walk across the glen by the shores
of the lake, to which she had been looking for
ward with a covetous joy since Haidee had left
them, she had to pack herself into a stuffy
brougham and be jpited over three miles ot
rocky road with her chaperon.
Every one had apparently retired to rest when
she reached home. Old Kavanagh, who opened
the door for her, only half awake, informed her
that he believed Master Jim was still about the
place smoking somewhere, and that he had
heard Mies Drummond's maid announce at sup
per that her mistress was mueh better. Jane
walked irresolutely through the silent house,
stopped outside her cousin’s door, uncertain
wEether to enter or not.
“If she is sleeping and free from pain, it
would be a pity to disturb her,” she at last de
cided and descended to the drawing-room,
where she found a dim light burning and one
ol the French windows open. She threw her
self upon a sofa, determined to wait’until Jim
Should come in and gi ve her a report of the suf-
NEW YORK DISPATCH. AUGUST 9, 1885. '
ferer and an explanation of his non-appearance
at the party.
Alter halt an hour’s waiting, she heard foot
steps on the terrace outside and a low murmur
of voices; the next moment Jim entered, the in
valid’s lily hand resting on his coat sleeve, her
head, gracefully draped in a w.bito lace vail,
brushing his broad shoulder.
“ Haidee 1” stammered Jane, springing to her
feet, “I—l thought you had gone to bed long
ago.”
“ No. Mr. Jim persuaded me to try his
nursing and give the open air cure a trial; it has
been most successful. My head feels so much
better.”
“ I—l am glad to hear it.”
“ Thanks. I hope you’ve had a pleasant after
noon-yes ? Now I think I will say good night,
if you do not mi-nd.”
With availed glance, a whispered word to
Jim, and a careless nod to Jane, Miss Drum
mond glided from the room, leaving the lovers
alone.
Jane sat bolt upright on her chair, not saying
a word ; he, struggling with a sense of constraint
and unrest he had never felt in her presence
before, paced the room for a few seconds before
ho spoke.
“ I—l was awfully sorry, Jenny, I could not
follow you this afternoon, as I had intended;
but—but a slight accident to some of the farm
machinery detained me until it was too late to
go. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“ It was a very pleasant party.”
“ The Ropers, Vandaleurs, Bhiels—all there?”
“ Yes; very few failed.”
The conversation dropped awkwardly, and
then Jane rose, with a yawn, and bade him
good-night. Passing by a side-table, she took
up an unopened note and handed it to him.
“Forme?” he exclaimed, surprised. “And
from Gavin ! When did it come, I wonder?”
“Probably when you were doctoring the ma
chinery.”
He did not hear the vailed taunt, for, as he
read, the color rushed to his cheeks, the
dreaminess left his face, and he exclaimed,
excitedly:
“ I ought to have had this note three hours
ago—it’s disgraceful I”
“ What is it, Jim ? Anything the matter ?”
“Yes, something gone wrong in the stables—
they fear Ben Bolt won’t be able to run. I can’t
understand it. Jenny, love, stuff a few things
into my portmanteau, will you ? I must have
the dog-cort out and be off to Clonboyne at once.
Hang that old Kavanagh I Why didn’t he give
me the note in time ?”
CHAPTER VI.
“THE LONDON BEAUTY,
It was the morning of the races, and all the
county were busy arranging themselves for the
great local festival. Jane, with anxious fin
gers, was undoing a leather case that had ar
rived from Grafton street half an hour before,
the contents of which gave her such satisfaction
that she danced into Miss Croker’s room to show
her feathers.
“Belinda, Belinda, do you like my dress?
Don’t you think it fits to’ perfection ? Is the
‘ improver ’ too much ? Because I can ”
“ They that are in Judea let them flee to th©
mountains, and he that is on the housetop,
let him not come down to take anything out of
the house,” murmurred Miss Croker, look
ing beyond the girl. “Woe, woe to them, I
say, who ”
With a shiver, Jane ran down to the dining
room, where she found her lover in high spirits,
and evidently delighted to see her again, for
Jim had only just returned home after his hur
ried departure three nights before.
“ Yes, ‘ all’s well that ends well 1’ ” he ex
claimed, delightfully. “Ben Bolt is as fit as a
fiddle again. It was a false alarm. We hope to
pull him through the Stewards’ Plate, and per
haps the Rossmire Handicap. You have my
colors on, I see, Jenny. Good girl—good girl I
How well they do suit you, to be sure ! Turn
slowly round. That is the nicest dress I’ve
seen on you yet. Well, tell me how you bore
my absence ?”
“So, so. My affectionate cousin addressed
me exactly six times in the last three days, Jim.
She slept through the whole of Wednesday in
the drawing-room, woke up at five o’clock, and
asked for tea. On Thursday Sydney and Albert
Greene turned up, and kept her awake until
bed-time. They came again on Friday—that is,
yesterday—with Hubert O’Grady and she ”
“ Hush ! Hero she comes I By Jove, and by
all the Graces !”
Jano turned quickly, and, after a moment’s
survey, gasped out:
“ Haidee, you are not going to the races in
in that get-up ?’’
A baleful light shone for a second in Miss
Drummond's green eyes; then she said, with
her usual languid indifference :
“ Yes, I am. Does it not meet with your ap
probation, cousin? ’
“ Oh, it is wonderful, bewildering !” ex
claimed Jane, ashamed of her uncourteous out
burst, “and most beautiful, of course 1 But I
don’t understand it. I mean—l mean I can’t
find out where the body ends and the skirt be
gins, where the sleeves come from, where they
go to, and how the colors blend into one an
other in that astonishing manner. I’m sure it
would give a Clonboyne dressmaker brain-fever
to look at it. I never saw anything like it be
fore.”
“ I should say not.”
“ Where did you get it, Haidee? From Worth,
Laferriere, Louise ?”
“ Worth, Laferriere ?” repeated Haidee con
temptuously. “ What an idea 1 Why, this cos
tume was designed for me by one of the great
est artists in London, and executed under his
personal superintendence !” Haidee mentioned
a name that made her rustic listeners stare.
“ It caused the greatest furore,” she continued.
“I was regularly mobbed the first day I wore
it at Ascot; but now it's a mere rag, only fit to
show at a place like this.”
“ Rag or no rag,” said Jane emphatically, “ it
will astonish Clonboyne, Haidee ; it will put
Nora Joyce’s Newmarket quite in the shade, I
can tell you !”
“And you, Mr. Jim, do you approve of my
dress ?” she asked, when he was assisting her
into the carriage.
“I think it is like its wearer—unique,” he
whispered back, but not so low but that poor
Jane’s jealous car caught the words.
Her prediction proved true. Miss Joyce’s
startling overcoat was simply “ nowhere ” when
Miss Vane Drummond invaded the grandstand.
Every eye was turned in her direction, an eager
murmur of inquiry ran from bench to bench,
glasses were leveled at her from other stands,
from the ring, from the course, and she, appa
rently indifferent to the sensation she was cre
ating, bore the public gaze without the flicker
ing of an eyelid, with a lofty equanimity that
dumbfounded Jane, who had shrunk abashed
behind her.
“ Haidee,” she whispered, “shall I—l send
Jim to the carriage for a cloak, an overcoat —
something ? They are all looking at you.”
“ They are all looking at me 1” she repeated,
placidly. “ Well, and pray why should they
not, Jane?”
“ Oh, of course, if you don’t mind,’’ began
Jane, when Haidee turned eagerly taward a gen
tleman struggling to reach her side.
“So, here is manna in the desert! Haidee,
frailest flower of South Kensington, what brings
you to these barren wilds?”
Jane, rather startled by the florid imperti
nence of the address, looked eagerly at the new
comer, a red-faced, short-necked young gentle
man, whom her cousin greeted with one of her
rare cold smiles.
“Rossmire, is it you? Fancy meeting you
here ! Of course, I forgot, you 'have a place in
the neighborhood, haven’t you ? lam staying
with a cousin at Balcara.”
“And you did not let me knew—cruel as you
are cold!” he said, reproachfully. “ I say,
come down out of this’menagerie; I want to
show you a few nags of mine and put you up to
a thing or two. By Jove ! you are the last per
son in Great Britain I’d have expected to see
here !”
Haidee rose, but Jim’s arm arrested her.
“Miss Drummond, Miss Drummond,” he
pleaded, “ my horse is running in the next race,
and you promised to accompany me to the sta
bles, you know.”
“ Hands off, Aylmore, this is a prior engage
ment! Remember your book at Ascot, Miss
Drummond, and trust yourself to me,” said
Lord Rossmire, moving away with his prize.
Jane was not disturbed by her cousin’s con
spicuous presence again that day, Lord Ross
mire and his party monopolizing her until the
last race ; nevertheless, Jenny was not happy,
and though the unanimous verdict was that this
was one of the most successful and en oyable
meetings ever held at Clonboyne, Jane thought
it the longest, dullest, most disappointing day
she ever remembered, for her lover never came
near her once, not even to receive her congratu
lations when Ben Bolt gallantly won his race,
but stalked about the course all day by himself,
looking so moody, sullen, and out-of-sorts as to
excite comment among his acquaintances.
The noisy, sunny hours went slowly by, and
Jane’s head was aching with the discordant,
monotonous cries from the ring ; her eyes were
weary watching the steaming horses flashing
past, and she felt too dispirited to hide her dis
appointment aud weariness from the friendly
crowd by whom she was surrounded all day.
“Don’t look as if you were enjoying yourself,
Miss Hamilton ; how is that ?” asked Mr. Law
less, a smart London barrister, who turned up
once a year at Clonboyne, always during the
race week, to visit a maiden aunt from whom
he had expectations. “I think we've had a
capital day’s sport on the whole ; that last race
was worth coming any distance to see.”
“ And I never remember the country looking
to such advantage as now,” chimed in another.
“ Evident doing its best to honor the London
beauty.”
“ The London beauty I What London beau
ty ?” eagerly asked half a dozen female voices.
“ Why, Miss Vane Drummond, of course!
Where are your eyes, young ladies ? Why, she
is the great event of the day.”
“ Jane, Jane Hamilton, did you hear that ?
Did you know your cousin was a London
beauty ?”
“No, no, 1 did not,” replied Jane, turning
eagerly to her informant. “ I don’t know very
much of my cousin, and she does not speak
much -in fact, never originates information
about herself or any one else. Is she really a
London beauty, like Mrs. Langtry and Mrs.
Cornwallis West, Mr. Lawless? I should cer
tainly never imagine such to be the case,
to judge by appearance-would you, Alice—
would you, Margaret ?”
“Most certainly not. Why, she has not a
perfect feature in her face!”
“And white eyelashes and green eyes !”
“ ;-he has the finest complexion in England,”
put in Mr. Lawless, caressing his mustache to
hide a smile.
“ Why, it’s perfectly sepulchral I”
“Ghastly!”
“ Unnatural t”
“ Finest complexion in England indeed 1”
“ Sepulchral, unnatural, whatever you like to
call it, nevertheless, my dear young ladies, it is
a fact that half the girls in London would have
bartered the bloom of Hebe herself this season
for Miss Haidee’s waxen pallor. Why, they
have starved themselves, bled themselves,
arsenicked themselves, drunk vinegar by the
quart—but all to no purpose. Miss Haidee
still remains the fairest woman in England.”
“ You’d not get a girl in the West to make
such a fool of herself t” indignantly cried a
young Milesian beauty, crimson-cheeked
scarlet-lipped, raven-haired. “ Fancy calling
that unwholesome-looking woman a beauty I
What fools you cockneys must be ! Why, she is
just the picture of that vampire in one of Dore’s
books we have at home.”
“ A vampire ! Come,'in the name of cockney
dom, I protest! A vampire is a species of
carrion-ghost, is it not ?”
“ This vampire is a bloodless, ugly woman,
with streaming white hair and cloudy gar
ments, prowling about a wind-swept cemetery
in the dead of night, a bit of watery moon
peeping at her from behind a cypress—alto
gether a very ‘creepv’ picture in the Dore
style—and the woman’s face might have been a
photo of Miss Drummond.”
“ Poor Haidee I She does not look much of a
vampire now, Miss Vereker, nibbling sand
wiches and drinking champagne !” responded
Mr. Lawless, leveling his glass at the Rossmire
coa *h, where the beauty was taking luncheon,
surrounded by a host of gentlemen.
“A—a London beauty!” exclaimed Jane,
staring stupidly in the same direction. “ I
can’t get over it. You don’t mean that she is
what they call a regular professional beauty,
Mr. Lawless ? That her photos are
“ Well, I won’t qualify her position ipnong
the profession, Miss Hamilton; but I can vouch
for the fact that she is the ideal of ‘ passionate
Brompton.' You will see her photo in every
stationer’s shop Kensington way, flying through
a snew shower, crouching against a dado,
snifling lilies, toppling out of a swing—in all
the conventional postures, in fact; and
not only that, but you can also meet
her hands and toes quite independent of the
rest of her body, if you
“Nonsense,'nonsense, Mr. Lawless! You
don’t expect us to believe that, do you ?”
“ I assure you, my dear young ladies,” he
answered earnestly, “'I am simply stating a
fact. Ono day this season I was turning over a
lot of photos in a Kensington shop, dhd I came
upon a human foot, a shapely, slender, woman’s
foot, and upon inquiry I found it supported the
frail but precious person of Miss Vane Drum
mond; the price was two-and-six?*
Jane waited to hear no more, but turned
with hot cheeks.
“It’s—it’s a pleasant thing to have one’s first
cousin a public beauty, isn’t it, Kate?” she
bitterly asked one of her friends. “ Would you
like to be one at the price ?”
“I don’t know,” Kate replied frankly; “the
position may have some drawbacks to a sensi
tive mind; but look at your cousin now, she
has every good-looking man in the place about
her, following the Rossmire wake. I don’t sup
pose I’d like to have my picture in the gallery
of Tom, Diok and ’Arry, and my foot in the
market at the price of two-and-six; but
en revanche, my dear, I dont think I particu
larly object have a lord hanging over my
seat with that air of fashionable devotion, to
have two A. D. C’s holding my parasol and my
field-glass, and, above all, to have Jim Ayl
more, so lovely and jealous, prowling in the
background, looking as though he would like to
demolish the whole coachload on my account !
No; on second thoughts, I don’t think I’d ob
ject to be the ideal of ‘ passionate Brompton’ in
present circumtanoes. Would you ?”
“Yes,” Jane answered, almost under her
breath. “ I—l would not be that woman in
any circumstances. I—l should despise my
self.”
“ And yet report says, Jane, that before long
you will call her * sister’ not ‘ cousin.’ ”
“ Report may make a mistake sometimes.”
(To be Oontinuadq
IN A ciMETERY.
BY M. QUAD.
It was a qaint old Southern cemetery, in the
outskirts ot a quaint Southern town. Wo were
strolling among the tombstones of a Sunday,
when wo heard the voice of a female, pitched at
a high key, and presently came upon a man and
woman seated on the grass near a grave with a
headstone reading:
“ Sacred to the memory of Eliza Ann Bendall,
beloved wife of Samuel Bendall, aged 28 years
and 8 months. Faithful, patient, forgiving—a
fond wife—a true mother. She rests in Heaven.”
. “You’d no bizness to do it 1” said the woman,
as we came up.
“Now, Lucy !” protested tha man.
“ I don’t keer two cents, and 1 don’t keer who
knows I don’t keor 1”
“Butlhain’t dun nuthin’, Lucy. Don’t go
fur to jump on a feller that way when he’s inno
cent as ayearlin’ mule.”
“ Hain’t dun nuthin’! Wbar’ did I find ye ?”
“Right bore, Lucy.”
“ And whar’s right here ? Who’s planted in
this ’ere place ?”
“My first wife, in course.”
“And who put up that marble grave-stun and
had it kivered with a nictur’ of a lamb and all
this fine language about bein’ perfect on oartlf
and going straight to tha highest roost in
Heaven ?”
“I-I did.”
“In course you did I She hadn’t bin put in
her cofiin when you sorter tell on my shoulder,
aud sort o’ wept, and whispered to me that your
light had gone out forever. ’Member that,
Samuel?”
“ Yes.”
“And you got me to boastlie funeral, and
you said it was the neatest job you ever saw.
Reckon the supper I got ye that night was the
best you had had in three years. Lor’, but how
you did paralyze the vittles that night I”
He was silent.
“And in less than a fortnight,” she con
tinued, “you was spoonin’ around me with sec
ond marriage so plain in your eye that dad and
ma’am poked fun at me. ’Member that poetry
you writ me ?”
, “ N-o.”
“ You don’t ? Mem’ry begins to fail ye, may
be. I remember every word of it. The fust
verse started off:
I've bin to see an angel
To-night. Aud her uame Is
Lncy Jaue Dowliug, and she's
The purtiest, sweetest gal in
All this 'ere State.
“ You writ it in red ink, on blue paper, and
yon sent it by one ot Deacon Young’s red-head
ed boys.
Samuel sighed like a locomotive.
“ Purty catosh fur a widower who’s light had
gone out forever only two weeks before, eh ?
Got in a new supply of wicks and kerosene,
ma^be! How tong was it alore we was mar
ried?”
“Dnuno.” ,
“ Oh, you don’t I Mem’ry hain’t worth a
cent no more. It was jiet three months to a
dot, and we’ve bin married jist seven weeks to
day. That’s how your 1 ght went out, Sam
Bendall! ’ ’
“ Yes.”
“ And unbeknown to 'me, while you was call
in’ mo your honey and cream and watermelon,
you’ve bin and paid out a heap of money to sot
up that’ere stun and tell the world what a
milk-and-molasses angel 'Liza Ann was!
More’u that, you sneaked out this morning and
cum over here to sigh and groan and squeeze
out tears and make yourself believe yoil bad
suffered a great loss. Sam, yer a sneak I”
“Oh, Lucy!”
“Iteg’lar built, onery sneak! It I’d had a
man planted around here, d’ye s’pose I’d
a-played woodchuck on a seeondhusband ?”
“ Reckon I was kinder overcome, Lucy.”
“ Umph ! Sam Bendall, riz up.”
He obeyed.
“ I don’t say anything agin the dead, bnt no
man as lives kin play sneak on me ! Here’s one
in memory ol your light which went out for
ever !”
She aimed a kick square on his coat-tails
and he took a flying leap over his first wife’s
grave and made a break through the bushes
lor town.
FIGHT OVER A SPRING.
Two Regiments Join Issue and Are
Clubbed by Their Colonels.
Perhaps it is the hot weather which recalls a
reminiscence of the war. When General Ho
vey’s division, which included the Eleventh In
diana, dropped down tho Mississippi from Mem
phis to Helena, there it met the troops belong
ing to General Siegel’s command, and upon go
ing into camp the Eleventh found itself along
side the Twelfth Missouri, a distinctively Ger
man regiment. The Eleventh, at that time,
was already becoming noted ior the beauty
ol its drills and dress parades, and it was not
long until the Missourians were heard to speak
contemptuously of this fact. The Hoosiers were
quick to take affront when their fighting quali
ties were impugned, and an ill feeling between
the two regiments speedily developed. Their
mutual camping place was on a level strip be
tween the levee and river, one mile or so below
Helena, and at the river’s edge there was a
spring of clear water, in common use. As the
days went by there came an order for the Elev
enth to join in the Clarendon expedition, and off
it went, leaving a number of convalescents to
guard the camp. When the regiment returned
the convalescents had a sorrowful tale to tell,
to the effect that the Missourians had captured
the spring and driven them away bv .',rce and
their bruised bodies and bunged ey< s were cor
roborative of-the treatment they had received
at the hands of the vindictive “ Pukes.”
The more the Hoosiers brooded over it the
madder they grew, and finally the word passed
along the rank and file that an engagement was
imminent. Meanwhile the officers got wind of
the impending trouble, and the dividing line
between the two camps were doubly guarded,
and so it drifted for several days. One Sunday,
however, and following an unusually long hom
ily from the chaplain, some one started the row,
and, by common impulse, the rank and file ral
lied on the dividing line, bore down the guards,
and went at it with" the fury ot mad cats. Hun
dreds ot empty bottles, which had been care
fully hoarded for days in anticipation of some
such an occasion, were used as missiles, and
there.were clubs and stones and fists and im
promptu wrestling matches, with hair-pulling
and biting, until all the available space was
covered with a writhing, struggling mass of an-
gry men. In vain the officers of both regiments
ordered and stormed and cussed, while pre
eminent in the fray, but as a peacemaker, was
Colonel McGinnis, who wielded his sheathed
sword as a club, and struck right and left with
a vipmr born of inspiration. The colonel of the
“Pulses” emulated his example, and after a
while discipline resumed its sway, and the men
returned to their quarters. Each side claimed
the victory, but the advantage lay with the Hoo
siers, and it was not long until the Missourians
broke camp and removed to a quieter locality.
Ever afterward, however, it was noticeable that
the “ Pukes ” were more cautious and respect
ful when referring to the Eleventh. In the en
gagement referred to, the Missourians bad sev
eral men badly injured, while their apponents
drew off without the loss of a single man.
“ CONFIDENCE” JIM.
A Story of the Mines Thirty Years Ago
in Old Tuolumne.
(From the San Francisco Post.)
“ I never told you the story about my pard,
‘Confidence’ Jim, did I?” said a patriarchal
and genteel-looking old gentleman to a trio of
miners seated on the porch of the Tuolumne
Hotel, at Sonora, one evening recently. While
his manner indicated that he was a gentleman
of education and some culture, his garb showed
that he was a remnant of that band of hardy
pioneers who took the first steps toward mak
ing California what it is to-day—one of the
grandest States in the Union. Fully sixty years
of age yet strong and vigorous, the only effects
of the frosts of time being seen in his hair and
beard, which were the color of the snowy
peaks of the grim Sierra, far away to the East
ward. As he sat calmly smoking his after
supper pipe, and enjoying the exhilarating
breeze which swept down from the sombre
hills, freighted with the aromatic scent of the
pines, he formed a subject worthy of the pencil
of a master artist.
“ There are two things that make me think
of Jim to-night,” continued he, removing his
wide-brimmed straw hat and running his
fingers slowly through his white locks.* “ One
is that it is just thirty years ago to-day that he
was buried, and the other is that the fellow
that preached the funeral sermon is planted up
there on the hill,” indicating with his thumb a
burying-ground over on the bill, wherein molder
he bones of many a noted miner and des
perado.
“ Yes, ho laid by his pick and shovel, and
went to judgment busted, just as the most ot
we old miners will who stick to the mines too
long,” said the speaker, in a musing tone. “You
see, Jim was my partner. Wo went to school
together, walked half way across the plains,
drank alkali water, fought Indians, worked the
mines, starved and froze together, hibernated
in a log cabin with the snow ten feet deep
around us, and had our good and bad times
with the varying seasons. But Jim, after awhile,
got tired of hard work, and at last adopted the
profession of gambling. I did not like his plan,
but ho said there was nothing for him in
the mines, and he proposed to make a living as
easily as possible. He was no ordinary man.
Like myself, ho had received an education that
fitted him for almost any gentlemanly follow
ing, but he lost his grip somehow, and never
got a good hold again. I’ll not forget the last
time we were together. It was just such a
beautiful day as this has been. On that Satur
day I did not go to work, and was sitting in my
cabin mending some clothes, when Jim came in.
I saw there was something wrong with him, but
said nothing. Finally he took off his hat, and
keeping his eyes fixed on the mud floor of the
cabin, began picking nervously at his hat-rim.
‘ Bill,’ said he finally, in a queer voice, ‘ I hope
you’ll not think I’m a d -d fool, but I want to
tell you that I am off my color to-day, and I
have come to a deal in the game of life that’s
going to bust my bank. It’s no use talking,’
continued he, as I attempted to laugh him out
of hie fears, ‘I am dead certain that I am going
under very soon, and that, too, ■with my boots
on. I don’t care so much for that; a man might
as well die here at Murderer’s Bar, on short
notice, as any place else, but, old boy, I did
want to see my folks at home once before I let
go. It’s no use, though, and so I’ve brought
you this letter and gold-dust, to send back to
my mother when I am gone.’
“He placed a sealed letter and a very heavy
buckskin purse in my hands, and before I could
gather my wits to remonstrate with him, he was
out of the cabin and striding down the hill at a
great pace, his head bowed down and his big
sombrero pulled low over his eyes. I put the
things away safely, and after puzzling my mind
with his freak, as I called it, a while, I quite
forgot the circumstance until late in the after
noon, when I came up from camp to begin cook
ing my supper. I had just kindled the fire
when I heard a pistol shot, and then a popping
as though a bunch of firecrackers had beqn set
off. I went to the door, and pretty soon a man
came running up the hill, and as soon as he got
near enough lor mo to hear, he yelied, ‘Jim’s
killed.’ You bet I jumped as though 1 had been
shot myself, and was soon down the hill, across
the canyon and up on a little bench of land
where the whole town was gathered. I pushed
my way through the gang of yelling, excited
men, and sure enough, there lay poor Jim, and
I saw that death had too good a bold on him to
ever let go. He smiled a little as I got down on
the ground beside him and lifted his head, but
all he could say was : ‘ I told you it was com
ing, old pard, but I did not think it would get
here so soon. Remember your promise.’ The
blood, running out of his mouth, choked him so
he could say no more, and in a minute he was
dead. I then had time to look around me and
saw that he had not gone on his long trip alone,
for, stretched on the ground a few feet away,
were the bodies of three men, two of whom
were dead, and the other just giving his last
kicks.
“The cause of all the bloodshed was, as is
often the case, a woman. Little May Weston,
the daughter of a widow who kept a boarding
house at the bar, a beautiful girl about sixteen
years of age, had been mot by four drunken
miners from a neighboring camp, who insulted
her in the presence of Jim. The result was
that ho protected her and was shot at by one
of the strangers. He returned the fire and I
have already told you what was the result.
Well, I proposed to give Jim an extra funeral
and, among other things, decided to have a ser
mon preached, a like ceremony never having
been attempted before in that camp. I found a
fellow named Johnson, who had once been a
lawyer, who said he would try and say some
thing when we planted poor Confidence Jim.
Ho wrote out his sermon that afternoon and
when he had learned it, gave the copy to me at
my request. I have been reading it over this
afternoon and have it here in my pocket. It’s
almost faded out, but I can read it yet. Here
it is, just as he delivered it, in his queer way,
over the body of Jim, the next day, as it lay in
the rough board box I had knocked together for
a coffin.
“ It was one of those calm Sunday mornings
when Nature itself seemed at rest, and, when
the rough voices of the miners rang out on the
Summer air in that grand hymn, ‘Nearer My
God to Thee,’ I just cried like a baby, and could
not help it. Well, Johnson got up on a stump
over the coffin, and the group of three hundred
miners involuntarily followed his example when
he removed his hat, and prepared to speak. Af
ter looking about him in rather a confused and
helpless jnanner, he gave a few preliminary
coughs and said:
“ ‘This here business is rather embarrassin’
to me, this talkin’ to the ruins of a dead man;
but it shall never be said that I was not willin’
to do my part toward rnakin’ things go off pleas
antly on all festive occasions. I don’t know that
this occasion can be called in that category; but
1 do know that I am going to make a mess of
this business, for I am much better at statin’
the reasons why a man should be stretched for
horse stealin’ than at tollin’ what an angel ho
was, when I know that he wasn’t anything of
the kind. You all knew Jim—most of you knew
him to your cost—but I know that you will all
of you join me in sayin’ that when you throw
out the matter of cards he was honor to the
backbone, and when it came to the rights of
man and the pursuits of happiness he bet on
the constitution high. I don’t propose to go a
gougin’ around in the past for some of his cast
off virtues, because I don’t want to have some
of you lop-eared cusses down there rise up and
call me a liar; forjif youjdo, my ideas of equality
will cause me to turn this funeral into a tight in
a holy minute.
“ ‘ Before you, in the solemn, silent slumber
of the dead—l got that out of a book—lies the
once kind friend and bitter enemy, Confidence
Jim—which ain’t worth frettin’ about. Because,
if Jim had a soul, and I guess ho had, that's
the article we need to do some very hard pray
in’ for; for Jim, you know, was to some extent
like the rest of us—no angel to speak of—and I
have a lingerin’ uncertainty as to whether he is
takin’ much stock in the angel racket now,
more than in a business way, because, knowin’
the man, I think he had a faro mill running
within half an hour after the boat landed, and
was scoopin’ the he-angels out of their hard
earned dust too fast. Of course, that’s only a
matter of opinion, but I know Jim was always
lookin’ out for the main chance, and would
never let such a lay-out go around the corner
for want of taking hold of it. Jim was no Christ
ian like the books tell about, but wherever he
found poverty, there he would stay, and it was
a regular circus to .see him cave around until
he had every one feelin’ as good as he did. He
was brave—too brave. I have often thought
that when he was fitted out, the Lord didn’t
have any more fear, so he put in a double dose
of brave; that cost Jim his life. No man ever
saw him drunk; no man can say he was not a
good man, the way common folks measure men.
I say that Confidence Jim, lyin’ there now in his
gore, with six bullet holes through him, can
measure records with many good men, and
have a balance in his favor. No man respected
virtue more than Jim—no man would protect it
sooner, and when them four cusses went to in
sultin’ the widow’s daughter, he told them to
let up, and you bet he meant it.
“ ‘You know how the game was played; you
know how Jim laid out two of them after he
was down. It was a bloody deal, and it cost
him his lite; but he took three of them with
him, and if I know Jim—and I think I do—he
will finish the deal over there. His star of des
tiny did not burn very brilliantly through his
life, for he was only a gambler, and earned his
bread by the turn of a card; but over there in
the hills, when the world was smiling upon
him and his game seemed to hold as many
chances as ever—when it seemed so good to
live and so hard to die—he, by his last act on
earth, caused that star which had gleamed so
dimly m the past to burst forth in all the glory
of true, honest manhood, bright as the noonday
sun, and then a few choking gasps, a few flut
terings of the brave heart, and the black night
of death settled over him and wiped him out.
His name will not be on the page of future his
tory, nor will the songs of later days tell about
him, but that last act makes a king out of plain
Confidence Jim. And if there is a God, and a
just one, He is going to give the run of the
cards to a man who, with eyes wide open, will
face death to save the honor of a woman. But
to conclude, gentlemen, there ain’t any moro
use for further agony over this part of the dis
course, or, for that matter, these ruins here, for
when it comes to protectin’ women, I want to
say, and say it loud, that this camp is chockful
of Confidence Jims. Amen.’
“ The crowd will now adjourn to One-eyed
Pete’s saloon and sample his new barrel of de
vastation.”
HUMOR OF THE HOUR.
BY THE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEND.
A DECIDED BARGAIN.
“ I can’t eat that ice-cream,” he eaicl, as he
shoved back from the table with a disgusted
expression on his face.
“Anything wrong?” queried the proprietor
of the parlor, as he rubbed his hands and
looked anxious.
“ It’s beastly stuff.”
“Dear me, but I’m sorry. Susan, what flavor
did this gentleman order ?’’
“ Vanilla, sir.”
“And you gave it to him?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“Ah I that explains. I’m out of vanilla, and
she must have used kerosene. I’ll make it at
half-price to you, sir, and you get all the advan
tage of a sure cure for sore throat.”
CLOSE FIGURING.
The other day, a middle-aged man, who be
trayed the fact that he was a stranger in the
city, appeared at the Central Market and pur
chased and ate a dozen pears. These were fol
lowed by a dozen plums, and, alter a brief rest,
by half of a largo watermelon. Ho then took
some lemonade, and bought some candy and
sat down to wait until his stomach could take in
something more. In a little while he was noticed
to be uneasy, and soon after that he inquired
for a doctor.
“ Anything wrong ?” asked the stand-keeper.
“ Got cholera morbus. How much will it
cost me to see a doctor and get a cure ?”
“ Ob,, about two dollars.”
“Just what I figgered on before I left homo
just exactly. I’ll have seventy-five cents loft,
and you hold on to that cocoauut until I come
back. I want to finish off on oocoanut.”
LOOKED AHEAD.
One mild day, during the past Winter, an old
darkey walked into a store, in a small town in
North Carolina, and said he wanted to look at
some horse collars. The clerk showed him sev
eral kinds, telling him the prices, and ex
patiated at considerable length on their quality
and cheapness, as the practiced salesman
knows, so well how to do. Alter some time, as
the old man did not seem to bo in any particu
lar hurry about making a selection, the clerk,
who had pretty well exhausted his stock of talk,
asked him if his horse was near by, remarking
that it would be better to bring him to the store,
as he could give him a collar that would fit him
more easily if he were present.
“Well, you see, boss,” said the darkey, “I
ain’t jist got a boss yit, but I ’lows to git one
nox’ Bpring if I kin find anybody to stan’ my
s’curlty, and I jist tho’t I’d look ’roun’ and see
whar I cud git a collar, so I’d know whar to
cum when I got my hoss. I’ll cum ’roun’ again
in de Spring,” and" he sauntered off.
HE STRUCK IT.
She answered the ring at the door to find a
strange man on the steps.
“ Any lly-sereons ?” he asked.
“ No, sir.”
“ Any fly paper ?”
“ No, sir."
“ Any powders for making lemonade ?”
“No, sir.”
“ Any painting or whitewashing to do ?”
“No, sir.”
“ Want some Paris green to kill garden in
sects?"
“No, sir.”
“ Got any old clothes to sell ?”
“No, sir.”
“ Got any coal to put in or wood to split ?”
“ No, sir 1”
“ Couldn’t you spare mo ”
“ What’s that, sir ?”
“ Ob, never mind. My wife is barefoot, and
I was going to ask for a pair of old shoes, but it
would bo no use. You have got such a dainty
little foot that my wife couldn’t get her big toe
into one of your shoes.”
When ho left he had an old coat on his arm, a
quarter in cash in his pocket, and there was a
square meal stowed away behind his vest.
THEY TRADE THAT WAY.
“ Watermelons, eh 1” she queried as she
glanced at the pile of fifty.
“ Yes’m,” replied the grocer.
“ All green?”
“Oh, no, ma'am.”
“If I was sure I could get a ripe one 1
might——”
“I’ll pick you out one, certainly. Here’s
one right here. I’ll warrant that melon to be
ripe.”
“Sure?”
“ I know it.”
“ And you'll send it up ?”
“ Of course.”
“ But suppose it should be green?”
“ You shall have another. Here, I’ll try it.
There, now, bnt isn’t that a ripe melon ?”
“ Y-e-s, I guess so.”
“ And where shall I send it?”
“ Isn’t it a little dangerous to eat melons ?”
“ Oh. no, ma’am. Where did von say ?”
“Is that the largest you have lor ten cents ?”
“ Ten cents I Why, it’s thirty 1”
“ Thirty 1 you may put it back, and I’ll take
a pint of tomatoes at four cents a quart.”
THE GREAT MAJORITY.
“ No, it isn’t the tramps I complain of,” said
a Wayne county farmer, as he called for ginger
ale yesterday. “ I can drive a tramp off by
simply bringing out my shot-gun, but with
this other class its different.”
“ What class ?"
“ Why these busted theatrical people who
are hoofing it back to Detroit. They come,
along at all hours of the day and night, and in
all sorts ol shapes. When a chap turns into
your gate and announces that he is Damon
and that Pythias is in a fence-corner half a mile
back, too far gone to foot it another rod, and
he backs this up by quoting Shakespeare and
giving you the route ot his company for four
weeks, why, you’ve got to do something.”
“ Of course.”
“Romeo came along the other night and
roused me up, and I went down to find Juliet
on the grass under a pear tree resting, after a
walk of twenty-two miles. They had to have
something to stay their stomachs and put new
life into ’em, and I thought they’d eat me out
ot house and home. I’ve had leading men,
leading ladies, villains, lovers, chambermaids
and property mon walk in on me singly and by
droves and I wish the season was over. jCurus
how they all tell the same story.”
“What is it?”
“ Why, they had the boss play and the keen
est manager. Everything was calculated right
down to a cent, company was the best on the
road and there couldn’t be no such thing as
failure. But there was. The treasurer skipped
with the funds—weather too hot—too many
roller rinks—alius some good reasons for bust
ing up. Poor critters 1 Whenever 1 am woke
up at night by a voice calling out: ‘Me noble
lord, a stranger begs a glass of buttermilk ol
thee,’ I git into my clothes and go down, feeling
as it all the cold meat in the house likewise be
longed to huji.”
HENRY CLAY,
ANECDOTES TOLD BY ONE WHO
WAS WITH HIM IN 1849.
“ Henry Clay was one of the most fascinating
men I ever met,” said Norman J. Emmons to a
reporter. “ Your speaking of Niagara Falls re
minds mo of the time I met him there, away
back in ’49. I was th-en pretty young in the pro
fession, with no great income, and Joe Clark’s
invitation to spend a lew days at the Falls was
bailed by me with all the satisfaction in the
world.
“Joe’s father was Lot Clark, proprietor of the
Cataract House, and the owner ol a big slice of
other Niagara Falls property. When I arrived
there I found that among the personal guests
of the elder Clark wore Henry Clay and his
son’s wife. You may imagine that to live in tho
house with the great Kentuckian, to bo in his
society daily, and to be talked to by him, was a
bonanza for me.
“What was Clay like? Well, it is a hard
matter to describe him adequately, for words
cau never paint the exquisite charm of his man
ner. Before I had been with him long I under
stood his extraordinary power with the public,
but it is impossible to analyze it. In stature he
was tall, over six feet; his bearing was erect,
his face was thin, and his nose was aquiline.
Every movement was the perfection ot grace,
and with that he unconsciously united a com
manding dignity that bespoke the innate great
ness ol the man.
“His voice? Ah, that was wonderful! I
have never beard another like it—melodious,
sonorous and rich. Every tone was perfectly
modulated and it tell upon the ear with a sound
sweeter than silver bells. His gestures—not
the studied, oratorical gestures, but those which
he habitually but invoiuutarily made in conver
sation—were hardly less expressive than his
marvelous voice. You may think that I am
drawing on my imagination or that I am over
enthusiastic, but it is a fact that in all my
career I never met another man with such win
ning ways, such magnetism and charm as
Clay’s. He was impressive, too, even in his
gallantries.
“ I remember that one of the ladies at the
Cataract House on that occasion was Miss
Elliott, daughter of Judge Elliott, who presided
over a large judicial district in Canada. She
was a beautiful girl, not moro than seventeen or
eighteen years of age—neither child nor woman.
Her hair was raven black and worn in natural
curls longer than any others I ever saw. She
was tall and superbly formed. Her education
was remarkable and she attracted Mr. Clay’s
attention. He sa|d to me one evening : ‘Em
mons, who is your friend, the young lady with
the beautiiul curls ?’
“ That, Mr. Clay, is Miss Elliott, of Canada,’
I replied. ‘l’ll go and fetch her.’
“ ‘By no means, my dear boy, I’ll go to her,’
was the gallant response, and, taking my arm,
he crossed over with me to where tho lady
stood, and was presented to Her. Considering
the faefrthat he was the lion of the hour, an old
man full of honors and the idol ot thousands,
this characteristic little bit of good breeding has
always seemed to me worth remembering. 0
“A few days later I had an equally striking
illustration of Mr. Clay’s impressiveness. 1 had
gone out early one morning to the Falls, and
while contemplating them 1 felt the approach of
somebody. There was no sound, not even a
shadow to warn me, but I knew some one waa
at hand. I did not change my position nor look
around, but presently I felt a band upon my
head. I think no word was spoken for possibly
ten seconds. Then Mr. Clay (for it was he)
said simply : ‘ This scene fills me with unceas
ing wonder and admiration.’
“ His voice, the solemn and majestic import
of his words (as he uttered them), and tho sud
den rush of feeling which the scene, the pres
ence and the sentiment invoked; made me ap
preciate the littleness of man and the greatness
of God more than anything else in life has
done.”
NEW TRICKsTt FARO.
AN EXCELLENT SCHEME FOR
MAKING MONEY.
(JFom the Cincinnati Enquirer.)
I met a typical gambler upon the street the.
other day. I suggested to him. that the frater
nity’s occupation was for the present gone.
“I don’t care for shutting up the faro banks.”
he said. “ I guess I have been interested in
five hundred games in my time, but I’ll never
put another dollar in one. I have a better
thing.”
“ How ia that?”
“ I am running snaps. Know what a snap’
is ?”
I admitted my ignorance.
“ Come up to my room, then,” he said> “ and
I’ll show you tho best scheme ever invented
for taking a man’s money out of his pocket.”
I wont, and he spent a couple of hours in
misplacing confidence so successfully that I left
feeling convinced,, not onlv of the folly of play
ing against another man’s game, but also of
lett’ng another man play against yours. What
he explained to me is in all probability the most
ingenious device extant for fleecing “ suckers”
who have gambling proclivities.
The snap gambler, in the first place, opens a
handsome suite of rooms ostensibly for pokor
playing. Seclusion, comfort and a well-supplied
buffet are inducements that generally succeed,
if properly worked, in securing players. He
caters to none but young bloods and business
mon. A professional gambler would be instantly
shown the door.
In the course of time, if ho understands his
business, he has a circle of nice lambs, who
every evening congregate to. play ten-cent ante.
“ Harmless amusement ” is the proprietor’s
cue. He insists on a limited game. He wants
no heavy playing. If tho gentlemen wish to
while away a pleasant hour or two, all right,
but he will have no financial throats cut in his
apartments. Thus the lambs are pulled into
fancied security.
At the right moment, when there is money in.
the party and poker waxes dull, tho trap is
sprung. The snap gambler laughingly says:
“Gentlemen, if my rooms were sear‘hed to
night, I would get a bad reputation. What do
you think I have here ?”
“ What ?” bleat the lambs.
“ Why, a faro layout; ha ! ha !ha ! A friend
of mine got hard up, and insisted this afternoon
on pawning the outfit with me. I couldn’t re
fuse the poor devil a trifle, so I have the whole
thing, box, lay-out, case-keeper and ail. Would
you like to see them ?”
Of course tho lambs would, and out of the
bureau comes the whole apparatus. The
chances are that every victim in tho room has
played against faro, and consequently has a
fatal curiosity about tho tools.
“I’ll tell you what, boys,” says the wolf, “I
wouldn’t touch a faro box myself for a thou
sand. I’ve been through the mill you know,
and I’ve sworn off, but if you folks would like
to take those tools and open a little snap game,
just for the fun of the thing, among yourselves,
why you’re welcome to use them.” The propo
sition strikes the lambs favorably.
A snap faro game is simply an ordinary
game with a limited amount of money backing
it, opened by anybody in the room. A twenty
five-dollar snap would mean that twenty-five
dollars was put up as a capital or bank roll by
the man who opened the game. Everybody
who buys chips adds that much to the capital
of the bank, so it is possible for a lucky player
to win a considerable amount. In tho hypo
thetical case I am following I will suppose that
one of the lambs opens a game with twenty-five
dollars backing. A lay-out is improvised on
the poker table. He takes the cards aud deal
ing box, and the fun begins.
The wolf will not deal, but he will play a lit
tle “to help the game alon«s Now it is my
purpose to show how, with of fate,
the capital ot the bank and &e money of the
other players will gravitate into his pocket. I
shall not attempt to describe the game of faro,
supposing that everybody who takes interest
enough to read this article understands, in a
general way, how it is played. Few are aware,
however, that as each card" is pulled out of the
box, the next card below slides very slightly,
about a thirty-second of an inch, toward the
aperture. This apparently trifling circumstance
is the basis of the snap-gambler’s device. He
first securest deck of cards, using those num
bered at the corners. Out of this deck ho sorts
two suits—say the aces and sixes. The faces of
these he ruab'slightly with a fine-grained emery
paper and treats tho backs of all others in the
same way. The result is to raise the fibre of the
card and nnko it imperceptibly rough. This is
called “ sanding,” and leaves the aces and the
sixes with a tendency to stick to the others. A
deck so manipulated is placed in a dealing-box
and the cards pulled out one by one. When
that above an ace or a six ia reached, instead of
slipping slightly over to the slit of the box, as
has been described, the sanded surfaces meet
and it sticks and holds back toward tho other
side. Thus by watching the numbers at tho
corners of the cards and noticing how far it is
from the edge of the box, the snap-gambler can
tell to an absolute certainty whether an ace or a
six is underneath. As there arc four aces and
four sixos, ho has eight bets ho is sure to win.
Thia ia the apparatus placed in tho innocent
hands of tho lamb. Tho snap-gambler, loaning
over, apparently to get a good look at tho upper
card, notices its proximity to the edge and is
told as plainly, as if the pasteboard had a tongue,
what is underneath.
AN ELECTRIC) KISS,
“Kiss Me Gently/’ but the Explosion
Startled tho Family.
i (Clara Belle's Letter in Cincinnati Enquirer.)
Girls wholly devoted to self-improvement are
not to bo frightened out of novel experiments,
and many of those brunettes whose upper lips
are adorned—dare I say disfigured ?—by incipi
ent mustaches, are submitting to a process by
which the hair is permanently removed—at
least, tho operator promises that there shall be
no renewed growth. A needle, attached to a
battery, is gently stuck into the root of each in
dividual hair, and the electric current is turned
on and tho thing is gone forever. Tho process
is slow, costly, and rather painful. My friend—
call her Dolphine—endured it like a heroine.
That evening she came home with a smooth,
but slightly swollen upper lip. When sho met
her sentimental Tom in the dim hallway on hie
arrival lor the regular Thursday night session,
she knew very well that he would feel a differ
ence right away.
“Tom, darling,” she whispered, “kiss me gen
tly this time, please.”
’“ls there a paternal presence in the parlor ?”
he murmured, as he put his arms just the half
way round her waist that she permitted.
‘‘‘No, Tom, but ”
“It thall bo smackless.”
“No smack, indeed
There was an explosion.
Simultaneously a flash like lightning illumin
ated the hallway. The family camo rushing in.
What had happened ? Why, Bolphine's lip, sur
charged With electricity from the hair-eliminat
ing needle, had come into contact with Tom’s
mouth, and tho result was like tho sudden dis
charge oi a thunder cloud’s contents, with a big
pop and a blinding flare. Fact, I assure you.
"I Give my
PiSyj Restoration
t« Health,
ancl Bcazity
to the
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