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Story of the Wedding Ring.
By BERTHA M. CLAY. CHAPTER I. Looking at them as they lie in the shop-windows of the vendors of old gold—wedding-rings of every size— —worn, bruised, taken most of them from hands that will never more be raised to caress or to threaten —who realizes the tragedies that belong to their history The love of which they were the outward symbol is known on earth no more —the wave of time has passed over it, obliterating all tracsi but what poetry, what ro mance, Vftat tragedy ever equalled the stories attached to these old worn wed ding rings? I have a story to tell of one —the ring that Paul Waldron placed on his wife’s finger—a ring of plain thick gold. The birds that had built their neats in the grand old trees of Dene Woods were singing their vesper hy/nn; the forest glades, the dells and knolls, the dark tangled shrubs, were all bathed In a flood of golden sunset light. On the eastern side of the wood stood the pretty little cottage that had been given to Paul Waldron for him self and his beautiful young wife—a cottage such as poets delight to sing of —ail covered with wild roses and woodbine, and with trailing sprays of jessamine, its windows framed with flowers, its rustic porch overgrown with scarlet creepers, and its large, old-fashioned garden containing al most every sweet flower that grows. As It appeared now in the evening sunlight the air so full of richest fragrance, the roses all abloom, the little brook close by singing as it ran, the birds filling the air with jubilant song, the cottage in itself furnished matter for a poem. A( the door, looking intently down one of the ltrond woodland paths, stood a young and moat beautiful woman— —lsmay Waldron, Paul Waldron’s wife, and mother of the lovely little hoy playing on the grnHH. She was only nineteen, and marked by great girlish beauty. She had hnlr of Bhlnlng brown which looked like gold in the sun shine; it covered a head of most per fect shape and symmetry, ranging in waving masses round a neck Hot also was perfect—it. was such hair as the old masters loved to paint in their famous pictures of Mary Magdalene. She had eyes of an indescribable vio let, hue, with a golden light In their clear depths; they were bright and proud, hnt the long silken lashes softened them Into wondrous beauty. Her brows were straight, and her fore head was white, rounded at the temples, and full of ideality. She had ripe red Ups, the upper one short, the lower one full a beautiful mouth that would have made even a plain face lovely; the chili was delicately btitsulded, and the curves of the neck and shoulders were full of grace. Ismay Waldron was that most per fect of all poems—a beautiful woman. Her dress was quite plain, but the homely material only showed the mar velous beauty of her girlish figure to greater advantage. The hand that shaded her eyes was white and grace ful. One might have wondered how she —living In a cottage, the wife of a man who worked hard for his dally bread came by this dainty beauty, this delicate, graceful loveliness that would have been fit dowry for a queen. Suddenly her eyes brightened, and a low musical laugh came from her lips. Sh<> heard her husband’s footsteps, saw him In the instance, and hastened to meet him. Paul Waldron had the true Norman type of face dark, handsome, full of fire and power. He had dark eyes from which an undaunted soul looked out on the world, dark hair that clustered round a noble head, firm, well-closed lips, a tall, manly figure, a free, inde pendent carriage and bearing, as though he felt himself to be any man's equal—and so Indeed he did. His whole face changed and softened when he saw bis beautiful young wife. "you are waiting for me. my dar ling.” he said -’’waiting and watching for me.” £he clasped her little white hands round his Rrm, ami they walked slow lj home together. s "You have not been dull today, la may, 1 hope?’’ sahl the young husband, quest loniugly. Not more dull than usual." she re plied. "Oh. Paul, make haste to be rich, and let us leave this quiet, home ly little cottage!” His countenance fell as he listened to her. He drew the beautiful face towards him. and kissed it with a passion that kuew no words. "My darling wife, to me this little cottage is more beautiful than a palace; that Is because I love yon so cieqrly and It is our home. Do you not love It also?” , She smiled carelessly. '• “Yes. but I cannot go Into raptures over it. When we have a grand man sion -a large house full of all kinds Mr things then I shall be as ycharihed as ever you wish me to be." "But. Ismay. I must work long and hard. dear, before attempting to find you a large house. Will you never be happy or contented until then?” A slight shadow came over her face "My darling." he continued earnest-j ly, “you will never—oh. believe me!— I you will never be happier than you are now. You have sunshine and music all the day long; the birds sing to you, the little brook there murmurs sweet est melody. lam no poet, Ismay—not even an educated man —but I can hear all these. You have bright flowers, the beauty of the morning heavens, the glory of the sunset, the long gloaming, and soft dewy nigi,_s. You will never be happier, sweet.” With a careless smile she looked into his earnest face. “I should like a large house best,” she said. “I have you here all to myself,” he resumed, “my beautiful bird of bright plumage, and I can worship you as I do. Your beauty makes my heart glad —your love makes earth like heaven to me. But, if we were rich, and lived in the great world, you would belong to so many others; others would delight In your loveliness, and follow you with praise. You know those favorite lines of mine, Ismay— ‘ 'Tis in your eyes, my sweetest love, My only world I see; Let but their orbs in sunshine move, And earth below and skies above May frown or smile for me.’ "I should not like my beautiful wife to be admired by all the world. I am jealous, and would fain keep her all to myself.” “That is Just what would please me,” she said. “I long for this beautiful great world you seem to despise. The idea of passing my whole life in this pretty little cottage does not content me, I feel like a bird —I would fain stretch my wings and fly away.” She looked laughingly at, him. “Do you not think I am right, Paul? Answer me.” “No,” lip replied. “A woman should be content with the love and admira tion she wins in her own home.” “I do not think,” said Ismay, “frank ly speaking, that they will ever cori tcnt me.” She did not perceive how her words jarred upon his sensitive nature. He had been holding her tightly clasped In his arms, but now he let his arms fall nervelessly. She looked up at him again with a smile that was beautiful to behold. "Will it be so very long before you are rich, Paul?” “I cannot tel! Ismay. At present I have but little chance. lam Squire Scofield’s steward; I keep his woods in order, and look after the farms. I have just sufficient money to keep our home—no more.” “But." she remonstrated, her lovely eyes growing dim with tears, “you told me that you would make money some day.” His face cleared; brighter thoughts evidently arose within him. "That will l>e my patents, Ismay. I have something like a genius for mechanics, I believe. If you could but find time to work at one of my Inven tions, I think I could make a fortune.” "Then it is all uncertain?” she ques tioned, despondlngly. He drew his tall figure to its full height. “I am vain < nough to think the con trary, sweet. I have now an idea—tf I eoald but work it out—ns to an In expensive method of improving the working power of steam engines. Tf anything should ever come of that. I shall he a rich man, Ismay.” “Then you must turn your mind to it. Paul.” she said, caressingly. "My darling.” he responded, wist fully. "1 would rather he poor—ah, be lieve me. love!—far rather. I am quite happy in this peaceful woodland life of ours; it seems to me that if I won wealth T should in some measure lose you. Why. Ismay. the whole world would not compensate me for the loss of one atom of your nffee tion!" And again that deep and won derful love of his seemed to master him. "You think of nothing hut love,” she said. "I think of a thousand things be sides." He looked at her half doubtlngly. "I have read of women whose souls wore not fully awakened,” he said; “but that cannot he the case with you. My own soul came Into full, perfect, and beautiful life when I first saw you and loved you. Money and luxury have no charm for me.” "They have a groat charm for me. Paul. Of course I love you very dear ly; hut. when you have won for me all my heart desires, 1 shall love you even more." The words were not kind: but she | bent her lovely face near him with a onlle that made him forget everything | in the world except her. "If I am to make a fortune,’’ he said, suddenly. “I must study hard. Shall we have just one half-hour out amongst the flowers? Afterwards I will get my books, and do my best.” ■ She accompanied him, and. as they stood amongst the rotes. Paul Wald ron said to himself that no flower that bloomed was so fair at his beautiful wife. If It were possible Ite'Npwmld win name. fame, and gold for her sweet sake —ho would study hard, toll that she might have the toys her heart was fixed upon. • They are but toys after all.” he said to himself. "She loves dress and jewels —these are women’s toys." He took himself to task for having even for a moment, felt impatient with her. iv Should I feel vexed because the birds love the sunshine,” he said to himself, “or the butterflies love flowers? They follow their instincts. My beautiful ismay, in loving all things bright and fair, only follows hers.” “If money could not buy beautiful things, you would not care for. it, Is may," he said, looking earnestly at her. She laughed aloud that musi cal laugh which stirred his pulses and thrilled every nerve, as some soft strain of music would have done. “You shall have money,” he said. “I will never cease working until I have won for you your heart’s desire.” CHAPTER 11. Martin Schofield, Esquire, was Lord of the Manor of West Dene. He was a wealthy man, and one who enjoyed life to its full extent. He had a great aversion to all kinds of responsibility and trouble; he had a land-ager who managed one portion of his estate — The woods of Dene and the farms be yond them were under the care of Paul Waldron. By courtesy Paul was called the Squire’s steward, but in reality his duties were more those of head keeper than anything else. He was the son of poor parents. His father had been the head game keeper at West Dene Manor for many years; his mother was an amiable, gentle woman, whose very life was centered in that of her boy. They had given Paul a fair education —something above his station. The boy was nat urally quick and clever, but his chief delight lay in mechanics. He liked all kinds of machinery; he enjoyed find ing out how he could improve upon anything he saw made; he longed to learn some practical trade, but his parents were not willing. “The Squire had always promised,” they said, “that their son should have the charge of the West Dene woods, and it was not kind of him even to wish for anything else.” So, to please them, he accepted the Squire’s offer, and before he reached his twentieth year he was master of the keeper’s cottage. “I can study,” he thought; “I shall have long hours to myself, and I can work out the ideas that have lain so long in my brain.” But in a short time a change came over him. He went one day to a pretty little town called Ashburnham, and there he met his fate. There he saw ismay Hope and, from that moment until the hour of his death he loved her with a deep, true, lasting love, and gave no thought to another. He was walking down the principal street of the town when he met her. Her lovely face, her light graceful figure, her wealth of waving brown hair, the pretty blue cloak —he re membered the picture while he lived. He looked earnestly at her as she passed, and a faint smile rippled over her lips. That long, lingering gaze amused her. Asa sudden glow of warm sunshine will bring to life some late-blossoming flower, so that half-smile, that one look at her seemed to bring Paul's whole soul to life; a new world opened to him—a great golden blaze of light seemed to have fallen at his feet, and he walked on, dazed, giddy, and confused. Then he turned back to see where she went. She entered a small house that stood by itself at the end of the street. “I must know who she is" he said to himself. “I feel that I must win her." His soul seemed on Are; there was to be no more peace, no more rest fdr him until he had won her. He did not leave Ashburnham that day until he had been introduced to Mrs. Hope and the beautiful girl who had so com pletely stolen his heart. Mrs. Hope was a widow; her husband had been in the Civil Service, and she was left with barely sufficient to live upon. Paul told her frankly that he had seen her daughter, and had fallen in love with her. "Many people do that,” was the quiet reply. “But I must tell you al though we call her Ismay Hope she is not my daughter.” Won by Paul's manner, his hand some face and eloquent words, she told him Ismay's story. "She is no child, not even a relative, of mine.” said Mrs. Hope; "nor have 1 the least idea where she comes from, or who her parents are. One summer night—it was very warm, and I was standing at the open window, watching the passers-by—l saw a wo man loitering near my house —In my own mind I called her then a lady, and 1 am inclined to call her so now; she had a pale, beautiful face, with wavy brown hair; she was poorly dressed, and held by the hand a little child. I saw her turn aside and drop a letter into the post-office; then, when she walked on again, her face grew paler, and tier eyes had in tnem an agony of entreaty when they had met mine. I saw that she could hardly walk, and thntj4n [a few minutes more she must fall. sTt spoke to her, and she looking at me, said — " ’Oh, if you would but let me rest for one half hour in your house! Will you. for tire love of Heaven?’ "I could not refuse such a request. She entered my house never to leave It alive. " "My very heart seems chilied,’ she said, when I had placed a chair for her. "She sat down, and called o her child. To be Continued. • " ** At Havana a meeting was held of ..he organization committee of the nation al party. Senor I.atorre. who*pre sided. said the coming meeting /would be of the utmost importance, / as it would be an Index of the future of the party. He declared that the i outlook was fair but said the funds vtere low and suggested that each committee should subscribe a fixed amoSfht for the formation of a fund to on the work of the party. K exports the Expoiairfoj?. Time to Bring American Energy and Enterprise to the Front. Not reckoning exports of minera'. oils and copper ingota in the account, American exports of the domestic man ufactures for the fiscal year 1899 were valued in round numbers at $252,000,- 000. In 1889 with petroleum and cop per bars omitted, our national export account footed up only $86,600,000. The vast expansion of trade thus indicated has been on lines admitting of in creasing and extensive development— n chinery and tools, cotton and woolen fabrics, chemicals, leather goods and all the minutae of perishable products that enter into the scheme of modern civilization. To meet fully the world’s requiremerts in these commodities, and to create and firmly establish a system of trade Interchange based upon them, would be to achieve in dustrial supremacy at the critical time when the great international markets are trembling in the balance. Now is the appointed season and the rare op portunity to bring American enter prise and energy to the forefront in the never-ending contest for primacy in material progress. To this end the national export ex position, the realization of which is near at hand in the new “White City” by the Schuylkill, has been adapted with wondrous skill and unusual good fortune. Just as the people of the United States have become fairly con vinced of the vast extent and immense value of the new industrial empire spread out before them, the exposition is presented as a conspicuous center and international rallying point of the multifarious productive interests which all unconsciously hold the keys of fu ture American prosperity. It is in re vealing to these their true strength, and in affording a comprehensive view of the possibilities of future American enterprise in the world’s great markets, that the forthcoming exposition will prove most advantageous to our giant young industries in their rapid pro gress to commercial control through out the channels of international dis tribution. Industrial displays in connection with huge world’s fair schemes have heretofore suffered somewhat by rea son of the inevitable diffusion of in terest among a roving mass of sight seers. Where there is so much on view but little is rightly compre hended. The national export expo sition, with its lavish provision for the utmost possible requirements of in ternational traffic, will mark the be ginning of an era of specialized ex hibitions, each having for its object some clearly defined sphere of indus trial, civic or artistic effort. It prom ises to be, in addition, the most sig nal success in the field of industrial exploitation that has been recorded in tiie a rural of American exhibitions. —Philadelphia Record. TO BAFFLE COUNTERFEITERS. Russian Inventor’s Device That Prints Six Colors a* One Time. The competition between authority and roguery—the one striving to pro-* duce a bank note which cannot be imi tated and the other always seeking to imi'.ate what is produced—has led to a very remarkable invention which is now being shown in London anil which seems likely to revolutionize the whole system Of color printing.” For the origin of the invention one must go to Russia. " There it was de sired to issue bank notes and bonds by some means that no forger could copy. Accordingly a weaver’s engineer was called in. wi'.h the idea that he should suggest a sorj of thread that should be an absolute mark to bear upon the subject and innocently asked why they could not find a printing machine that would do what was wanted. Why not? the skeptic was disposed to ask. The weaver thought it possible, and finally designed a machine by which the thing :ould actualy be done. The Russian notes and bonds are now printed by it, with a success that 'the Russian gov ernment seems only too ready to ac knowledge. But then a machine that will print an unlimited number of col ors at once cannot, in these days of illustrated papers, be hid. Hence It has been brought to London and set up at 119 Shaftesbury avenue, where a critical company had an opportunity of inspecting It in full operation. It is not a very large machine, and, like many other things of great utility, its principle is simple. A large color block, after being rol’ed by Its own color, comes in contact with a composi tion roller, where it deposits its colors. Each color block, In short, comes in contact with a roller on the whole of the picture, no matter how many colors are on the transfer roller. Then a retransfer of tue whole picture is made to the printing plate, the print ing plate goes to the paper, and the picture is printed. But in another way it may be said one roller, one color. Each roller takes its special color to a transfer roller, the transfer roller when It has received the whole of the picture transfers it to a plate, and the plate gives the impression to the paper. A figure and floral illustration in six colors was being printed the other day. The rollers having been duly adjusted, the layer-on went to work, feeding in at the rate of about 1.000 per hour, and the copies came out simply perfect Every printer knows that with six colors there should, under the old sys tem. be six "machlnings.” All six colors were done in one machining. The labor-saving was therefore enor mous. But beyond that there was no waste. Six machinings may lead to a bad "register,” which, to the non technical. means that In one or more of the machlnings the colors may not meet or may overlap and the printing I be thus spoiled. The new machine will 4>rrnt at off* tirfcfeffln Aflfr number of J 'cojortfanifi without" th§' possibility of spoiled,'. BeaStWul speci mens pf work done in'Russia for bank note and back purposes, were shown. designs:- and work in tracery specially good. For bank notes; checks*, maps and illustrations the process peculiarly adapted. Rotafy are being cod- the system may be available Ur newspaper offices, with their great requirements as to speed. It may be added that the new method is the invention of Ivan Orloff, now chief engineer and manager of the bank note printing establishment of the Russian government at St. Peters burg.—London News. RAILWAY TELEPHONE USES. How Trains are Moved In and Out of the Terminal Station. Of all the uses to which the tele phone can be put, that as a life saver is probably the most important—and one cannot regard the employment of this instrument in the handling of rail way trains as anything less than as a means of saving life and limb. One of the wonders o'f a great railway sta tion like the North and South Termi nal of Boston is the mysterious move ment of the trains, a systet# which almost suggests the supernatural in the silent perfection of its operation, am! yet which is taken by the passen ger to be so much a maker of course as usually to be wholly unnoticed. With all the mighty power, which seems rather that of some magnificent giant than of a senseless thing of iron and steel, the railway locomotive is not only as dependent as a child for care and guidance, but rarely is its huge body moved so much as a rod within the yard limits except by somebody’s order. Every locomotive, every car and every train has its appointed place at all hours of the day and night, whether it be still or moving, and at times the telephone is the agency that directs it. The New York, New Haven and Hartford has, however, recently taken a step in advance of improving its block system through New York and Connecticut by placing telephones in the signal towers, while in the north nrd the south terminal stations in Bos ton the telephone has %een used as an auxiliary of the telegraph and the au tomatic signal from the start. In the north station the tower telephones, taken in conjunction with the starting of the trains and relating wholly to the trains and tracks, constitute a system of themselves, which is prac tically independent of the special ex change through which the Boston and Maine connects its offices. A special telephone at the head of every track in the station conects directly with the “crow's nest” from which all the track signals are given and bells sounded, and the instruments are scat tered throughout the yard as far as the tower on the railroad bridge, no less than thirty being used. In time of fog the telephone is of indispensable value, and a chief reason why the trains slide into the station so prompt ly in thick weather is that an indus trious use of the telephone by the sig nal men in tht towers has kept the ' central office informed of every train movement outside. There is a limit to the information the automobile dials can convey, but the voice is un der no restriction. In the south station the telephone is used in the same manner, with such Improvements as experience has sug gested. for example, should a train pass tower 5, which is at Columbus avenue, on the Adbany. the signal man would move the clocklike hands of a dial and an announcement of the train would appear in the station. He would then telephone to tower 4, which is at Broadway, and tower 4 would tele phone to the terminal office in the sta tion such information as might aid in the handling of the train when 1t reached that section. So complete and well ordered, indeed, is the system of telephone approach at each of the terminal stations that its operation is at if the engineer of every incoming train leaned out of his cab and shouted to the officials in the station every par ticle of information they could desire to know to enable them to take his train safely in, and, if necessary, send it out again.—Boston Transcript. ABOUT THE A!?T AND THE BEE. The ant Is a pattern of industry and thrift, though very much overrated, but he was a cold utilitarian waen he outraged the laws of hospitality and recommended the poor happy-go-lucky grasshopper, as he had "sung all sum mer” to “dance all winter.” One can fancy the careful, prim, narrow little householder, with an odious air of virtue, freezing out the-improvident suppliant. Thrift for its own sake is not virtue, though it may be prudence. If we garner up the grain, it should be that we may scatter it again to bring forth a good harvest. And if any man. even the thriftless, come to us beseeching bread, shall we deny him and ask, after the fabel, “Why did you not treasure up food during the sum mer?” It is a gray day. Indeed, which has in it no grain of pleasure, no op portunity for doing good, no sweet moment of rest. The future is a sort of rapacious Moloch demanding hu manity to sacrifice to him the present. The miser spends his heart's blood and his soul’s peace to pay tribute to the monster; the fool laughs at his claims; but the wise man pays him a just tithe. Take time to rest. A much-traveled foreigner, when asked whether he had observed any particular characteristic as representative of the whole human race, replied: "Me tlnk all men love laxy.” And this must be true If, as they say, axioms are the distilled wis dom of nations, for there has never been any demand for proverbs or fables illustrating .he pleasure of lei sure and exhorting men to enjoy them selves, while rtfie wise saws on the subject of work are numberless. Near ly all our axioms are commendatory of perseverance, toil, economy and accumulation. “There’s room at the cop,” ' Rcme was not built in a day.” “A fool and his money are soon part ed,” “A stitch in times saves mue,” “Economy is wealth." There are which bespeak caution in these tions, as “Make haste slowly,” 'Penny wise and pound foolish,” ‘ All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” etc. But usually the Indefatigable ant and the “little busy bee” are held up to us in some form for emulation. Now, as Eugene Wrayburn says, speak ing of bees: “They work, but don’t you think they overdo it? They work so much more than they need —they make so much more than they can eat—they are incessantly boring and buzzing at • their one idea —that don’t you think they overdo It? and are human la borers to have no holidays because of the bees?” —Woman’s Home Com panion. THEFT OF THE HOLY' CARPET. Dispatches frem Cairo report that the “holy carpet,” once the property of Mohammed, and long guarded with pious care in the Egyptian capital, has fallen into the hands of Bedouins, who attacked a caravan of Egyptian pil-. grims While on the desert march be tween Mecca and Medina. The carpet is usually carried to Medina every year on the great annual pilgrimage from Egypt and is then restored to its keepers. It is one of the most latpous relics of the prophet, and the saAlegir ous act of the desert arouse much feeling, particularly kin North Africa. v Meea attracts the faithful ffl? entire Mohammedan the larger part of the piipff wL visit .Medina are natives of Africa. reason is because Medina is sanctity to Mecca, and a visit; to temb of the prophet at Medina, wtme highly meritorious, confers no honor nor bessing which is not equaled or surpassed by the holy fruits of the pil grimage to Mecca; and few non-Afrl ean devotees have the incentive to in cur the sufferings and dangers of the 200-mile march across the sand waste between Mecca and Medina. Of the four orthodox sects of Islam the Mali kites are very numerous in North Africa, and a large part of the pil grims to Medina go there not only to venerate the tomb of the prophet, but also the tomb of the Iman Melek-Ibn- Ansa, the founder of the Malikite sect. The bones of thousands of these pilgrims whiten the route across the Arabian sand waste, where they have succumbed to heat and fatigue or to attacks of Bedouin robbers. journey has always been among the most trying experiences of the pilgrim band. Seme of the Meccans have made fortunes supplying the camels and food for the desert journey to and from the northern city. Thirteen years ago a French steamship com pany spread the news far and wide that thenceforth the perils of the desert march might be avoided. The pil grims were advised to return from Mecca to Jiddah on the coast, where steamers would await to carry them 200 miles north to Jatnbo, whence they might make an easy and comfortable journey to Medina. In recent years several thousand pilgrims have em ployed this easier and cheaper route, but the majority have clung to the old way. The Bedouins who have committed the latest act of sacrilege are nominally Mohammedans, but they neither pray nor give thanks to Allah. They may be trusted to place the high est commercial value upon any sacred relic falling into their hands. —New Y'ork Sun. TELEPHOTOGRAPHY. Not only does this apply to moun tain subjects but to many others alike. What remarkable pictures of the naval battle of Santiago, the chase of the Christobel Colon, or the gal lant rescue of the despairing Spaniards from their burning ships, might have been obtained from the battle-ship New York, with a lens of this descrip tion even at long range! I believe it will be of inestimable value for the purpose of securing views of the bat teries and fortifications of an ene my’s harbor, which might be done at a safe distance from their guns. WHILE THE HEART BEATS YOUNQ. While the heart beats young and our pulses leap and dance, With every day a holiday and AM a glad romance, We hear the birds with wonder, and with wonder watch their flight, Standing still the more enchase 1 both of hearing or of sight, Jt-'* When they have vanished wholly' 'for infancy, wing to wing | We fly to heaven with them; and, re turning. still we sing The praise of this lower fceaven with tireless voice and tongue. Even as the Master sanctions —while the heart beats vdung. t I While the heart beats youi! While the heart beats young! Oh, green and gold old earth of ours, with azure overhung And looped witiwaiabows,, grant us yet .v .