Jamestown weekly alert. [volume], November 12, 1885, Image 2

About Jamestown weekly alert. [volume] (Jamestown, Stutsman County, D.T. [N.D.]) 1882-1925

Image provided by: State Historical Society of North Dakota

                
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'-•ESSIs isa
loVeius—so
*«r
FOR HIS SAK£.
Ifoili closer still my hand, dear love,
Nor fear its touch will soil thine own
No palm is cieaner now than this.
So free from earth stain has it grown
Since last you held it clasped so close,
And with it held iny life and heart
For my heart beats but in your smile,
And life were death, wo two apart.
I loved you so*?- And you? Ah, welll
I have no wqfd or'thought of blatae
And even now my voice grows low
And tender, whispering your name.
You gauged my love by yours—that's
all,
I do not think you understood
There is a point you men can't reach,
Up the white height ol womanhood.
at least you say,
'With many a tender smile and word
You kiss us both on mouth and brow
Till all our heart within is stirred
And having, unlike you, .TOU see,
No other interests at stake,
We give our beat, and count that death
Is bleased, when suffered for your sake.
MORTON BLAKE'S DILEMMA.
'"Is it true, Norton? Is your uncle
really dying?"
The speaker's eyes were sparkling,
her cheeks flushed, her fingers toying
with the white robes of a baby upon
her knee, her intonation that of elated
triumph.
Words and manner struck Norton
Blake sharply. He threw down the
telegram with a short "Yes."
/'Are you sorry?" Mrs. Blake asked
iti tart surprise. "Why, you've wish­
ed, a thousand times, I were mistress
of The Court, h,nd now there's baby.
Shan't I fell proud when I see him in
velvet knickerbockers riding about
that beautiful park on a white
pony!"
Norton regarded her with amaze­
ment—her speech sounded so utterly
heartless.
"Sorry!" he repeated slowly. "Sure­
ty, Myra, you forget that my uncle
lias filled a father's place to me from
:«iy childhood."
"Oh no, I don't," she retorted with
a disagreable laugh "nor the filial re­
spect you have always shown him.
Also, I remember your many aspira­
tions that Providence would allow
the same—a—calamity—to end this
miserable concealment. Really, Nor­
ton, you have neither courage to face
the consequences of your own actions,
nor to grip the deliverance Fortune
•sends you."
With a muttered imprecation, Nor­
ton Blake left the room. Experience
had taught him the futility of arguing
with his wife but through the ensuing
long journey he had leisure in which
to ponder over and debate the truth
•of her words. The sudden shock of
his relative's danger had acted upon
«his moral consciousness like a
'douche of cold water on the physi­
cal organization of a drunkard, recall­
ing him to himself, but stinging him
with^tt sense of his own degradation.
Treated by his uncle with an indul­
gence shown by few parents, he^had
idled^ at ^school and scraped through
gamed nor drank yet his fatal propen­
sity of snatching the moment's pleas­
ure, leaving care for the morrow, had
blighted the sunny prospects of a life
whose crowning folly he was too cow­
ardly to avow.
During a long vacation—supposed
Jby his uncle to be passed with a tutor
in Scotland—he met, at a fashionable
watering-place, a giri—woman, rathfer
—whose blue-eyed, golden-haired
charms and practiced graces had be­
wildered and captivated his youthful
fancy. Hi3 superior in years and
knowledge of the world, but be­
neath him in birth and education,
she was too keenly alive to the social
advantages derivable from an alliance
with the heir of an old and wealthy
county family to let him slip through
her lingers. By artifice, cajolery, and
•. fchneats of appealing, to the elder Mr.
Blafce—the best thing which could have
happened to him, had he but known
.'it—she accomplished her purpose, and
1 he married her. His college life had
•ended, and, fearing lest his rash act
should be discovered, he persuaded
his uncle that a continental tour was
sfche fitting interlude between it and
•settling down to the active duties of.
life.
The couple were at Heidelberg when
-the news of Mr. Blake's illness ar­
rived. It betokened some latent good
in Norton's character that, although
these tidings might have been supposed
to solve his difficulties, they awakened
in his breast but a feeling of sorrow­
ful remorse, leavened, perhaps, by sat­
isfaction that, owing to the
season be?
ing winter, and the tender age of her
•child, his wife was debarred from ac­
companying him to England.
As the first misery lessened came the
remembrance of a forgotten complica­
tion in his affairs. Mr. Blake's house­
hold numbered another besides his
nephew. This was tlie orphan daugh­
ter of an old fellow-officer, to whom
Mr. Blake had given the shelter of his
home and the affection of a father.
That Norton and Helen Venne Should
be united—so sharing equally the
•wealth and station he must in time
resign—was his dearest wish. A tacit
understanding to that effect had ex­
isted for some time. No definite
promises had been exchanged, but
Norton knew what was expected of
him on his return.
Also that were his uncle alive when
he reached The Court, the disclosure
of his marriage would becertainly fol­
lowed by disinheritance were he dead,
it would deprive Helen of home aid
fortune. Whichever way he looked
he saw nothing but trouble ahead.
How he cursed his weak, infatuated
folly as the train whirled him through
the dark night, the howling wind and
dreary, up-piled snow!
II.
Night's silence brooded over The
Court as Norton drew up to the famil­
iar door. Only a watch-dog's baying
broke the stillness. Brilliant, moon
beamssilvered thesharp snow-crystals
covering lawn and flower-beds ruddy
firelight from within touched with iri­
descent tints those clustered on win­
dow-sill and pane. So had he seen the
old house wrapped in its snow mantle
many a winter night. Its unchanged
jeauty awakened a yearning pain as
for something unvalued before, whose
loss brought shame, remorse, misgiv
ing.
The warmth rushed out to meet him
t.. as the heavy door opened. More red
I. ty fell the firelight on the oaken pan­
elled hall thin on tho snow without.
It Hick ere. I softly on Ll. ltn shurnibhed
Lead as she greeted him wit.h out
stretche^hands, tender, shining, wel­
coming eyes, cheeks carmined jvith
pleasure.
Her loveliness struck him liko a rev­
elation. Thfe tbuch of her hands made
him shiver. Imagination placed be
aide her the figure of.the woman whom
he had Imule h,is wife. He turned
aside with a gesture of dismay—an
inward groan.
"He is alive—he is, indeed!" Helen
said eagerly, mistaking his movement,
thinkingNorton feared her uttering the
grim 'Too late!' "He heard the
wheels you must go to him without
delay. He has watched for your com­
ing, oh, so anxiously!"
The doctor came out of the sick
room as Norton approached it. He
had known Norton from boyhood, so
understood somewhat of the anxiety
he had caused Mr. Blake.
"Your uncle longs to see you," he
said, laying his hand impressively up­
on the young man's arm "but I can­
not allow you to enter his room unless
you are sure you can control your
feelings. Remember the least excite­
ment may—naj^must—be fatal. Gain­
say him in nothing. Let him die in
peace."
A choking sensation rose in Norton's
throat as he passed to the bedside.
The gray head lay motionless upon
the pillow, but the dimming eyes Hood­
ed with affection, fastened on his face—
the feeble fingers enclosed his lovingly.
"You have come at last!" he mur­
mured, trying to lay his hand on Nor­
ton's bowed head, as he knelt beside
the bed. "What has kept you from
me so long—my boy, my son?"
Norton muttered something unin­
telligible, the realization of his deceit
bowing his head yet lower. With a
sudden gathering together of his ener­
gies, Mr. Blake roused himself, and un­
heeding any reply, continued:
"You are my heir, Norton. I have
left everything to you—everything!
Even Helen have I trusted to you.
But now, lying here, I misdoubt if I
have acted wisely by her.
Promise, by all you hold most sacred,
that you will make Helen and her in­
terest the first and chief consideration
of your life."
A warning pressure from the doctor's
fingers and Norton promised. Sincer­
ely, too indeed he felt a sense of relief
that the pledge exacted was one he
could accept He would make Helen's
well-being the study of his life.
"It can be done but in one way," re­
sumed the old man with dangerous ex­
citement, "that is by making her your
wife. You will fulfil the wish of my
heart—ratify the tacit bond between
you? Oh, Norton, say you will—do
not deny me the only thing I ask!"
Again the warning pressure as the
doctor vainly tried to soothe his pa­
tient. Norton hesitated. What could
he say—what do? The color mount­
ed to his brow, his lips trembled.
"Say something for heaven's sake!"
whispered the doctor with Energy.
"Pacify him in some way—any way—
or I cannot answer for the conse­
quences."
Once more Norton's fatal weakness
paralyzed his will. Through his home­
ward journey he had persuaded him­
self that nothing should induce him to
let his uncle die in ignorance of his
true position, his offense unforgiven as
unknown. Disinheritance, pam, igno­
miny, were better faced than that!
So he had told himself—and now?
"Promise, Norton, promise!" The
shrill voice rang piercingly imperative,
tlie uyinj- cyes ibbK-ea u^rwit-ifrt-pTesa
ing agony, the thin hands clutched .at
his as if they would ring from him
more than life itself, and Norton
promised.
"Bring Helen! Where is Helen?"
Mr. Blake cried in feverish impatience.
"Let me hear her promise too. Only
then can I rest in peace."
Helen came. She drew near to the
bed with an expression of calm repose,
of trustful strength, on her beautiful
face. Quickly this changed to- one of
shrinking awstruck reserve, as she
glanced from the gray, imperious feat­
ures of the dying man to those of her
—as she believed—lover set in a white
look of pain and fear. Looking won
deringly from' one to the other, the
poor girl faltered out the promise re­
quired of her, Mr. Blake holding in his
a hand of each as the words were spok­
en.
It was to Helen but the sealing of a
vow—unuttered. indeed, but long ex­
istent. No doubt of Norton's truth
or honor assailed her. Yet, looking
up into his pale, drawn face, a vague
panic struck coldly to her heart, so
joyless, so despairing, were the eyes
that met her own.
"Nunc dimittis!" the sick man mur­
mured, and sank back upon his pillows
faint and exhausted.
Ill
To the amazement alike of doctor
and friends, Mr. Blake rallied from the
stupor into which he fell after his in­
terview with Norton, drank the
draught prescribed for him. sank into
a calm slumber, and awoke so much
iitiproved that hope whispered anew
that recovery was possible. Time
proved hope right. After many fluct­
uations between life and death, dan­
ger gradually retreated health dawn­
ed once more.
Through the week of convalescence
the same imperious mandate wield­
edits iron sway. No excitement, no
thwarting was on any account to be
permitted.
Morning by morning Norton Blake
rose from his bed, vowing that, at all
risks, he would before night disclose
the fact of his marriage to Helen and
his uncle. Evening always round him
forsworn. Gradually the stifled con­
science yielded to the fascination of
the hour—allowed himself to drift aim­
lessly down the stream of circum­
stances
Alas! the seductions of the moment
were all too sweet, the flowery path
only too alluring. Vainly honorspoke,
and duty called, he was deaf and blind
to aught but fear. Only when a letter
from his wife arrived—coaxing, plead­
ing, threatening—did his cheek pale
and terror gnaw his breast. Helen's
clear brow wore, sometimes, a furrow
of perplexity as she saw the strange
handwriting on the missive lying by
his plate at breakfast-time, and noted
his futile efforts to conceal the effects
of its unwelcome appearance.
"Guileless by nature, and singularly
unversed in the world's deceits, Helen
trusted Norton with the whole-heart
edness of one who, estimating others
by herself, scorned to see spotorblem
ish in those she loved. Norton saw,
too late, what he had thrown away
so recklessly—what infinite capacities
of lifelong happiness he had blotted out
forever.
Yet no thought of sparine her cross
ed his mind. If any remembrance of
the anguish surely awaiting Helen
momentarily disturbed him, he quiet
edit by reflecting that chance often
solves time's riddles in a manner
equally unexpected and pleasant, and.
unfortunately for all, cliance was his
fetish.
So tho year budded into spring, and
the charmed dream nearod its end.
Letters from Heidelberg became more
imperative in tone, demands for money
more urgent. Nor were threats for
following Norton to England, and dis­
covering for herself the cause of her
husband's detention, lacking on the
part of Mrs. Blake.
The master of The Court was intent
upon accomplishing his nephew's mar­
riage. Helen was busy making her
bridal preparations—the wedding day
itself all but fixed. Norton alone was
listless, preoccupied, depressed. A
horrible tear, a terrible foreboding of
calamity, had taken possession of
him. The bright sunshine, the singing
of birds, the scent of violets, the up­
turned, placid primrose stars, made
hint faint and sick. Night and day he
pondered over a way of escape, but
none presented itself as feasible. He
literally dared not encounter his un­
cle's wrath or Helen's scorn. Noth­
ing remained to him but flight—flight
from a danger he was too cowardly to
face.
IV.
But two days remained before that
fixed for the wedding. The court was
thronged with guests, and gay with
merry voices, badinage and jest. In
the ivy-draped windows lights were
beginning to twinkle as Norton Blake
walked homewards, wrapped in bitter
—almost frenzied—musings. So ab­
stracted was he, that he scarcely no­
ticed a station fly which, entering
through the lodge-gates, slowly passed
him in the dusk. Neither did he re­
mark a face which, peering through the
glass, swiftly recognized him, and as
quickly disappeared into the recesses
of the vehicle. As he wearily mounted
the last step to the door he became
aware of a strange hubbub of arrival in
the hall. His eyes fell
011
a blue-eyed,
blonde-haired figure he knew too well—
his ears were pierced by a high pitched
voice only too familiar. There, too,
stood Gretchen, the maid—even her
stolid German phlegm stirred to inter­
est as she presented her white-robed
bundle to the astonished visitors and
servants whose progress across the
hall, or chatting by its wide fireplace,
had been arrested to ascertain the
cause of the tumult.
Norton saw it all as in a vivid pho­
tograph. He heard his wife's shrill
voice exclaiming, with a toss of her
flaxen head, and the sarcastic laugh
which jarred his nerves so acutely:
"Oh, there's no mistake—none what­
ever, I assure you! I am Mrs. Norton
Blake, and this is our little son. I
have every proof of what I assert. I
passed my husband in the avenue. In
a few minutes lie will be here to cor­
roborate my statement. Gretchen,
raise baby's veil, and let Mr. Blakesee
how closely he resembles his father.
The old man had tottered into the
hall to see what the confusion meant.
Norton saw his face harden into a ter­
rible sternness of disbelief as he con­
fronted the intruder. He saw the
whitening of Helen's lips and the de­
fiant anguish in her eyes.
The great door still stood open. The
fly \vaitedir with its piled up luggage,
below the terracesteps. Norton press­
ed yet closer into the shadow of the
Eis
ortico, and caught his breath taiiear
wife's neat words.
"My husbands continued' absence
was so unaccountable," sfee-continaed,
with again the harsh laughi she fancied
so fascinating, "that I determined to
ascertain lor nivselt the cause oft bis
detention. I hope my advent is not
utterly inconvenient, bint Nor tern—
dear, easy fellow!—will he delighted
with the jpleasajit surprise-I have plan­
ned for him."
Norton waited to hear no more.
He slunk noiselessly down the steps,
sped swiftly through the gardens' and
fled away in the darkness of comicg
night.
Hidden away among the glades ®f
the park lay a placid, hazel-fringed
mere. Feathery larches waved over,
lilies spread their broad leaves anad
silver cups upon, its still waters.
But the morrow's sunbeams, panrt
ing the fragrant larch-plumes with
slender, shining fingers,, fell on some­
thing which the spreading lily-leaves
tried pityingly to* eonceal. From the
yellow hazel catkins the dew dropped
like tears upon tlie dead face of a man
whose body drifted under the shelter
of the bank, and that dead man: was
Norton Blake.
Out of his dilemma he had found
road but whether tisat
road was the aoward's one of sui­
cide, or that,, in his bewilder­
ment he had wandered unwittingly
to the mere, missed his footing in the
darkness, and slipped into its treach­
erous depths, it was an Impossibility
to determine.
A ca mekeeper, going his early rounds,
found him in the pool. He wascarried
back to The Court, and "Death by
misadventure" was tlie verdict at the
inquest. "Death through selfish weak­
ness" would have been a truer
one.
Mr. Blake never recovered theshock
and disappointment of lus nephew's
death. He sank into dotage, and for
many tediousyears Helen—a sad-eyed,
prematurely-aged woman—was his de­
voted guardian.
Tht only bright thing ii» her life was
Norton's Little son,whom—humiliated,
frightened and subdued by the dread­
ful result of her mananivre—Mrs.
Blake had consented to relinquish and
leave in Mr.' Blake's charge, on the
condition that his futur» should be
provided for.
On an allowance, also supplied by
Mr. Blake, she returned to the asso­
ciates of her early life, and soon re­
married—to the no little satisfaction
of others besides poor stricken Mr.
Blake and his dear adopted daughter.
Two churches, the Methodists and
Baptists, dominate the Southern
States in religious matters. In the
eight. principal Southern States
—Virginia to Louisiana—the Meth­
odists and Baptists together have
very nearly a monoply of church
membership. In Alabama and Missis­
sippi the members of these two sects
each constitute 95 per cent, of the
total church membership in Georgia,
94 per cent. in Florida, 93 in South
Carolina, 91 in Louisiana, 90 in
North Carolina, 86 in Virginia, 81.
Throughout the whole Union the
Methodist and Baptist churches com­
prise only a trifle more than 47 per
cent, of the whole church membership.
In the South these sects, therefore,
have at least twice as great relative
strength as they have any other
part of the Union. In the North and
in the West the church membership is
so divided that no one or no two sects
could exercise a controlling influence
on all church sentiment. But in the
South it is clear that the Methodists
and Baptists dominate ecclesiastical
opinion.
SALLY ANN JONES' PAPERS.
No, P—Bembilicenccs of Farm I.lfe—Th«
Sad Results of JersmluU'# Joining the
Farmer*' Club.
A few years ago there was a good
deal of excitement among the farmers
about the Farnurs' club and the
Grange, and Jeremiah, of course, had
to belong to one or the other. After
considering the maiter awhile, he con
eluded to join the farmers' club, for
the reason, he ssid, that women
belonged to the Gnnge. Says he, "I
know that where a lot of women are
allowed to let their tongues run, a
man can have no ihance to express
an idea of importance on any sub­
ject."
"But, Jeremiah,' says I, "even then,
you might get a chance to express
your ideas. But I should think you
might find enougl to attend to at
home to employ pretty much all your
time, without joining either the club
or the Grange. Tliere's the gate be­
tween the barnyarc and the ten-acre
meadow hanging b'r one hinge. Yes­
terday, while you were gone to town,
1 had to run mysel: nearly to death
to get the hogs out of the wheat field,
because, when the tree blew down
across the fence, instead of cutting it
away, as you oughj to have done, you
built the fence u? and left the trees
there, and then tried to stop up the
holes with chunccs where the rails
wouldn't fit around it. The fence,
back of the cornfield, is so rotten that
a ten-year old boy could knock it
over with a corn cob, and I've got
about tired picking up sticks and bark
to cook with. All the fence corners
are full of briars, and the orchard—"
I looked around and Jeremiah had
vanished while I had been talking,
and was nowhere tD be seen.
Jeremiah joined the Farmers' club,
subscribed for about half a dozen agri­
cultural papers, ai:d invested heavily
in blooded stock. He bought a cow
that was all horns, and a yearling call
that was mostly iume. He bought a
hog that had little or no hair on it,
and another that vas nearly all hair,
and wound up by jay
ing an enormous
price for two sheep with wool so fine
that it didn't looklike it couldbeused
for anything but to line bird's nests.
And all this time I had no sewing
machine, no pump in well or cistern,
half the time had to pick up wood to
cook with, did the washing and iron­
ing for Jeremiah, myself, the two
children and the hired i»an, milked
four cows, attended to the house work,
and did the sewing for the whole fami­
ly.
I didn't say as much as some women,
and perhaps more than others would
have said,, but I was getting madder
all the time, and I soon settled it in
my own mind, that the day was not
far distant when there wo rid be a
revolution! in the affairs of tlie Jones
family.
It is only for the
last few years that
I have secceeded in getting Jesemiah
'to mow the yard. He used to say
that it saved time and trouble jiist to
turn some off the stock into the yard
to eat the grass where it stood.
One morning,, just as the day dawn­
ed o'er the eastern hills, I arose with
the lark, if not before him, cookedibhe
breakfast, roused up the men folks,
washed the dishes, cleaned the rdbms,
milked the cows, and then went to
work at the -washing. I had put my
first boiling oftclothes on the line, and
gone to the cistern for a bucket of
ivcaiWr, wliun saw Jeremiah's -Iona-~
horned Cow iri« he had turned intto
the yard to graze pulling at a sheet
and trying to gut it off the line. I
dropped the bucket and took after her
with the cistenn hook, but before
could make herl'et go her hold of the
sheet, she gave it a jerk, broke the
line, and ran off, dragging the sheet
after her. Some women would have
cried at the thought of having all that
lot of clothes to wash again, but I
didn't. I knew, that Jeremiah and the
hired men were taking a lunch and a.
rest, in the kitchen, and thither I
wencled my way. Just as I reached:
the kitchen door I heard Jeremiah say^.
"The Farmer's-ulab is"—
"Jeremiah," says I, "where is that
club?"
"What club?" says he.
"The Farmers' club," says I.. "I'
think if I hadiit cow, I could put it to-1
good use for oncet. I would break it
over your head aaid start you to
doing I
a few things that: are needed to be done
around here—suufa as mowing the yard,
and fixing fences,, and the like. Then
I'd split the fragments into kindling
wood to make a, fire to boil the clothes
over, for I've picked up every stick and
shaving withinm mile around, and I
can't pick up any more, and if' you
don't haul upsome wood, there'll be
no more cooking nor washing done
here, unlessa new family moves in. I've
done my Lost job of picking up wood,
now rememberthat and thenext thing
that you turn into the yard tx graze,,
I'll set the dop after it."
Tlie hired man put on his hat and
left the house, and Jeremiah, tried to,
do likewise, but I stood between him.
and the door till I made hixn under
stand that 1 meant what I said..!
"And," says I. "you have jjast got to
stop going t© that Farmers-' club do
ings. If you must belong to one or the
other, you have got tan join the
Grange, tor women attend that, and
maybe youfll learn that women have 1
some rights and need some accotn
mediations, and that men are not the
oi Jy being3 in the world whose welfare
is. worthy of consideration."
Jermiah tried to dodge past mo
again to get to the door. "Not yet,:
Jermiah," says 1. "Will you quit the
club and join the Granee?"
"Laws, yes," says he. "That or
anything else. I'll join the Mormons,
if you'll only stop your everiasting
clatter."
"You arenot in Utah. Jermiah, and
A C001)-NIG11T.
Bv and ly tho evening falls,
SODH of labor rest,
Weary cattle neck the stalls,
Bird* are in tliQ nest.
By and by the tide will turn,
Clians'9 come o'er tho sky,
Lite's hard task tho child will learnt
By and by.
By and by the din will cease,
Day's long hours be past,
By and by in holy peace
We shall sleep at ltist.
Calm will be the sea-wind's roar,
Culm we too shall lie.
Toil and moil and weep no more,
By and by!
PINKIE'S REVENGE
BY HELEN HUNT JACKSON (H. H.)
"What a perfect shame that she got
here to-day!"
"Sh—sh—. She might here you!"
"Nonsense! She is down in the re­
ception room. I don't suppose, if she
is from tho backwoods, she has got
ears that can hear through tloors."
"Girls, I am ashamed of you. How
can you be so unfeeling toward your
own cousin!"
"I don't care, mamma, she is sure
to be awkward and dowdy. How can
we have her at the dinner table to­
night? I shall die of mortification to
have to introduce her to Mr. Morris
as our cousin."
"Perhaps she will bo too tired to
come down to dinner after such along
ride. It is a little awkward to add an­
other to a set dinner party."
"Oh! mama, bless you for the
thought. You can tell her that she
is too tired. You can arrange it, I
know!"
"Well, I'll try."
These were the sentences which fell
on the ears of Priscilla Bent as she sat
alone, waiting to see the aunt and
cousins whom she had come all the
way from Kansas to New York to
visit, of whose welcome she felt as
sure as if she had known them all her
life. It was by a blander of the ser­
vant that she bad been shown directly
up stairs into thedrawing-room, which
communicated fey folding doors with
the room where- were sitting mother
and daughters.
"Pinkie! What aname!" continued
the first speaker. Who eyer heard of
snch a name, except, for a dog?"
"Her name is Pfciscilla," replied the
mother, "but Pinkie wa» given to her
by her father, when she was a little
girl, on account of her pink cheeks."
"Well, I shall call her Priscilla."
"And I too."
"Your father will' net like it," said
Mrsc Bent. "But we must godown."
A swift rush of three' women down
the-stair case, three loud exclamations
of dismay at the sight ofr the empty
reception room, looks of. dismay and
a smothered whisper of vexation.
"How stupid of Bern. Do you sup­
pose she heard—"
Tliese were the next tfAings in the
swift little drama which here began so
inaunpiciously under M11:. Silas Bent's
roofi this morning. And.next to these
followed one which-seemad almost a
]UsiHication of Hltthacthe Mlss«a Dent
had said in regard to tUueir cousin.
Slowly rising to her feet, grasping her
umbrella firmly in her left hand, rose
a tall, an exceedingly, tall young wom­
an,. who exclaimed: in at nasal voice,
"Well, I was jest a comin'to look ye
up. I didn't know as-tliat fine black
gentleman o' yourn had condescended
to leis you know I was hera. I'm most
tiredito death, I tell y,ou:. Four days
an' four nights in the cars i'senough to
kilLaxi ox. But I'll be all right's
soon's
I get my coffee. I reckon: breakfast's
all cleared away by thieUime, but I
don't want much, only-
A'-cmp
of coffee
if tike cook hain't thrown it out.
I'm real glad to soe you. I
'spose uncle got my lbttfer, didn't he?"
And pausing in her breathliess speech,
pratty Priscilla Bent looked sleepishly
intot the faces of her-equally shame­
faced relatives. If. they hod not been
tQOguilti]y disturbed in- their own
mind of fears of having been overheard
iii their inhospitable comments, they
might have detected a strange look
on their Kansas cousin's-face, a mix­
ture of twinkle and terror. But they
saw, heard nothing except what so
thoroughly corroborated their worst
fears. Even Mrs. Btent herself, who
had resolved beforehand to be thor­
oughly kind to the child of her hus­
band's favarite brother was thrown
off her balance, and in spite
af herself, the welcome she gave ^ras
curt and cool.
But nothingappeared to daunt the
terrible Pinkie. Radient good humor
shone in her face hen tongue rani like
a clapper,, and when the dinner party
was mentioned, Pinkie cried:
"Not much! I aiii't too tired.. I'll
just bunk down ami by 6 o'clock I'll be
fresh as 3 rooster! We don't often get
achance-to a regular dinnerparty out
in £mpcxria, and I don't mean to miss
one this* winter. Say—shall,! wear my
very bost? I've- read about tlae kind
of clottees you New Yorkers rear to
dinners. f$ut I've got some A. No. 1
gown's, I tell you. Now, jou just
show »ie my
room,
1
Mormonism is not tolerated here,"
says I "so I'm not afraid*of your join-'
ing the Mormons, though I
don't doubt 1
your willingness to do so."
I went out to pick up the clothes,
and Jermiah went after a load of
wood, since that memorable day, I'
have always contended for my rights,
and I generally manage to hav«
them.
The students at the university of
Texas are always playing some game
on the professors. Old Professor Gasa
way is generally selected as the target.
About 3 o'clock in the morning a few
days ago he was disturbed by the
ringing of his door bell. Hastily en­
veloping his figure in a dressing gown
he threw open a window ami sticking
out his head asked what was the cause
of the disturbance. "The burglars are
bad, and we only wanted to tell yon
that one of your windows is open."
"Which one?" he asked anxiously.
"The one you have got your head
stuck ont of, professor," replied the
students in chorus—Texas Sittings.
and I'll go straight
to be2 an' stay there till dinmer time.
You fet your Wack man bring me up.
a tumbler ofmiiflc, will ye, a'Jongabout
1 o'clock, and a doughnut or a hardl
tack. I'm used to eatin' heartily in
the middle o' the day."
When tlie'door was finally shut up
on. Pinkie, bar aunt and cousin ex­
changed looks.
"Horrible-." cried the youngest
daughter, Carrie. "It's worse than I
«ver conceived. How could papa send
for her?"
"He has not seen her since she was
10 years old," said Mrs. Bent, dismal­
ly. "Of course he could not dream
she would be like th». He has always
said her mother was a charmingwom
an and they lived in Europe for sev­
eral years when she was little. It is
horrible, girls!"
"Bunk down!" ejaculated the eldest
daughter, Sophia.
"Fresh as a rooster?" echoed Carrie.
"Mamma, I shall go to bed myself and
be too ill to appear to-night. I never
can live through it never! I don't
believe Mr. Morris will ever cross our
threshold again."
"Then he is welcome to stay away,"
said Mrs. Bent, hotly.
While this distressed consultation
was going on between Mrs. Bent and
her daughters. Pinkie, safe-locked in
her room, was holding one with her­
self. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but
her face was full of mirth.
"I will!" she muttered, "I will do it!
It will be good enough for them. I,
know I can. It will teach them a good
lesson. But I will have to work like a
Trojan to get the dress ready. Let me
see what I nave got that will do? Ha!
I have it! That old tableau dress will
be just the thing."
'•How lucky I brought it!" she
chuckled, as she shook out the foldsof
a white muslin made in the most anti­
quated country fashion. "Now I can
go to sleep and rest easy for an hour,
'awkward and dowdy.' That is what
I will be," and in five minutes mis­
chievous Pinkie Bent was sound asleep.
Anxiety and vexation had maae
Carrie ill, and it was with a most un­
becoming flush on her harrassed face
that she appeared in the drawning
room a few moments before the din­
ner hour. There sat the cousin from
Kansas! Was ever such a figure seen
in a New York drawing-room before?
A plain white muslin, made in the
shepherdess style, very full and very
short, scarlet stockings, abroad scar­
let sash, and worst of all on the head
a turban of white muslin, with a scar­
let poppy flaunting in front! This
was what the malicious Pinkie had
done with herself, malicious Pinike
whose trunks were full of exquisite
French gowns such as her cousins had
never owned, and not often seen.
She know at least that the opals on
her soft white neck would command a
certain sort of respect, even from her
inhospitable relatives.
'Thank heaven she wore tliern. That
will show people she at least has mon­
ey. That necklace couldn't have cost
less than $1,000."
"Yes," replied Pinkie, nonchalantly.
"Ma likes 'em best of all she's got.
They're ma's. I like flowers better.
I'm great on artificial flowers always
wear 'em every day."
The guests were already arriving,
Mr. Bent liimsrffamong them, he hav­
ing, according to the fashion of New
York business men, arrived home in
time to dress for dinner. His heart
was so full of affectionate welcome for
his niece, whom he remembered well as
a beautiful child of ten. only half a
dozen years ago,, that he did not at
first note anything but the uplifted!
eyes, and the afiectionate voice.
As the dinner progressed even unob­
servant Mr. Bent b»eaj»ie aware that
his niece's attire was not what it
should be, and that her voice was too
3oud. "But the women folks can soon
straighten that all ©wife, and the child's
as pretty as a picture'.."'
So also thought the Bon. Mr. Mor­
ris, who, to Carrie's vexation, on be­
ing told by her that the-young lady in
white was a cousin, who had arrived
most inopportunely from Kansas,had
exclaimed: "From- Kansas! How
delighted I am. That is-tSie state of
aill others I am most interested in see­
ing. I am going out tlk«re in the
spring
"If all the Kansas liufies have so
wonderful a complexion as your cou­
sin, that is another reason'for visiting
tlie region. Pray, present n»e to her?
I should like to ask her- many ques
tionsv Perhaps, ah—" hestammered,
with tbio curious mixture-ofi diffidence
and a-udacity one so oftentwes in Eng
lishuiRnv "perhaps your motiker will be
so very good as to let me- have the
pleasure of sitting by her side at din­
ner—that is, if it will not: disarrange
youivplans."
"IIam: quite sure mama will not re­
linquish: the pleasure of Raving you
chiefly.'to herself at dinner,-!" quickly
responded Carrie, her heart full of
anger amd mortification.. Neverthe­
less,. several times in the course of the
dinner Mr. Morris heard the- shrill
voice,- and thought to himself!": "What
a pity, the American vok».- is- a© high
pitched..'*
When the gentlemen joined'the la­
dies in tltB drawing-room. Mr. Morris
looked eagerly for the Kansas cousin.
Not seeing her, he accosted Mrs. Bent
withitrua-English bluffnesas "I don't
see-your niece from Kansas I hope
she has not gone I was counting on
talking' with her all tlie rest of the
evening:""
With.minded resentment and con­
fusion Mrs. Bent replied: "My niece
wont upstairs immediately after din­
ner.!"
Ih' truth, Mrs. Bent was in a., state
of nervo«s bewilderment. Without
for, a moment suspecting the real rea­
son oft' Pinkie's withdrawal, she had
perceived that the girl was greatly
moved ass she caine swiftly to her when
they were entering the.' drawing-room.
"Aunt, I must asiA you to.excuse
me. I am going up-stairs to change
my dress. I was net dressed as I
should, have been."
"NOVOT
mind, child,.never muad."
Pinkie was gone.
It did not take longpfor her to finish
her transformation" touches. The
dainty white surah s3k, with willowy
reaches of white lacofrom belt to hem,
the soft, clinging gloves to tlie shoul­
ders,, the opal bracelets, the white os­
trich, feather fan, tile white slippers—
all were in readiness. But at last
Pinkie's heart tailed her.
"It was a shamefhl trick to play on
tllera. I shall cry I know I shall, and
I'd rather die thaucry before that En­
glishman."
At last she stolfr down slowly, hesi­
tatingly. Black Ben caught sight of
her first, and reelwl back with excite­
ment.
It was an unerring instinct which
led Pinkie, on entering the drawing
room, to glide swiftly to her uncle's
side, and putting both haads into his,
say:
"Dear Uncle Silas, wonft you mako
my peace wit lit aunt, and ask youn
friends here to forgive mr*for masquer­
ading at youcdinner?"
Before she Ifcad half-finished speaking
the compajay had gathered close
around her..
"I must say," begfm Mrs. Benit in
an angry tone. But Pinkie went: on
resolutely::
"I could not resist the temptation
to live up to the New Yorkers' idlea of
a Kansas, girl just for an hour or-two.
You know that I was exactly the sort
of a perswn you all «xpect to see from
the West." Shegatheredcouragaasshe
saw snides. "Yes,you all knowit,"em­
bracing the group in her appealing
glance, "and we cunt West all Know it.
Then.forgiveme. You ask them to for­
give me, dear UitHe Silas, won't you?"
But Uncle Silas was laughing too heart­
ily. He bent over and kissed her fote
head.
"I ask then all to forgive me for
kissing vou,"hesaid. "A capital joke,
Pinkie!"
"The best of acting I ever saw,"
cried the Hon. Mr. Morris "quite
clever very neat. Upon my word,
though, I do think now, really, Miss
Bent. I should have seen through it
I don't think you could have deceived
me."
"I should not have tried," replied
Pinkie, very simply. Yet there was a
certain indefinable something in tone
which made the lion. Mr. Morris
change col«r.
lv,'^':.4«A.''-'WVY#RF^^S^'*^'L'^'- IL*^'LT',,,V'^,'''I
refc.'gaBaaBMujttaag.iiMMi JMWM
There ft re no words in which to
dfSviribo i.lie embarrassment of Mt-&
lie'ic and her daughters.
"Had Pinkie overheard what they
said about her?"
They sounded her as far as they
dared. But they never found out.
To only one person did Pinkie ever
tell the whole. That was to the Hon.
Mr. Morris, after she lia.1 been for soma
weeks his wife.
"I thought it was so unjust in them,
Frank," she said "so cruel. I'd just
give them a lesson and let them see that
manners may be only skin deep—easily
put on or off. But I'd never have done
it, Frank, if I had seen you first—never.
I wanted to run out of the room aa
soon as I saw you look at me."
"You needn't to have," replied the
Hon. Mr. Morris, "for I thought as
soon as my eyes fell on you that lhad
never seen so lovely a face before."
"Did you really?" asked Pinkie.
"Really," answered the Hon. Mr.
Morris.
NOT SLANGY.
A Chicago CUrl lefatti H(sndtr from
Boatou.
A Chicagoan visiting in Bostn waxes
indignant at an article regarding Chi­
cago girls which appeared in an east
era journal. The article charges that
Chicago girls are in the habit of using
such expressions as "getting left,"
"rustled'round," "went back on him,"
"corraled her handkerchief," "in the
swim," "made the riffle," and "put in
nis best licks." The Chicagoan writes
to the papers here to say that since
his arrival in Boston, six months ago,
he has not seen a pretty woman. We
think it highly probable. But, re­
garding this charge that Chicago girls
use slang, in order to obtain the facts
a representative of the Rambler called
upon a Michigan avenue yonng lady
who is a typical belle of the Garden
City. The reporter was ushered into
a resplendent salon furnished in the
style of Louis Kanze—or maybe it
was Louis* Katorze. He seated him­
self upon ain old gold fantend, and
piesently the young lady referred to
materialized, heralded by the frou-frou
®f her silken dress upon the stair. Tho
article referred to was shown to her,
and she became exceedingly indignant,
.observing:
"That isaflshstory. The fellow who
wrote that iB- 'way off his base:."
"You tlimlfc,, then, that there isno
truth in the- assertion that Chicago
girls are addicted to slang?"
"Well, now,, hold on, I don't mean
exactly that.. There may be some'of
them who sling siang,but I never
work
ths- slang racket myself. I suppose
some of the girfe do use slang some­
times, but thischild is not one of them
now you hear my bazoo."
"What is your opinion of Bbstom
bellas, compared to those of Chioago?"
queried the scribe*
"I think we oam discount Boston! ow
beauty, and as fir accomplishments,.
whyr that's wherewe hold a full hand
Take-me for example—"
"I should be most happy," saiditJie'
reporter, gallantly.
"Come off!" she ejaculated, playful­
ly. "Tiike me fbiTexamyle I can.paw
the ivory with thrt-best of'em. Ifoam
warble a few warbs, and I can elocute,.
too. No) sir, lean tell you. Boston'
girls Save got tothustle to keep even'
with us,.and it i»very seldom I hear
any ofr'the girlsusoslang, Well.Imust
go and get ready,for the matinee so,,
over the river."
"Au s^nvoir,"' responded the jour
nalist, making liis best three-for-a
quarter bow, and withdrawing with-,
his usual grace..
This interview effectually gives the
lie to the allegation that the daughters
of this metropolis are addicted to the
use of slang.—From the Chicago R&mv
bier.
Hcl^htef Waves.
The Height of the waves produced'at'
sea in atstorm depends mainly on- the
two conditions of the depth of. the
water through which they travel! and
of the-lfength of. "fetch" or unbroken,
space which extends from the shore.
It follows that the most gigantic waves
are produced where tha sea rushes foi
the longest distance and at the-great­
est depth directljf on the shore. In
the long duel between man andnature
we here arrive aa the term of: human
po wear. At Wialij with a fetch x»f about
(500 miles, waves of 40 feet in height
from' crest to trough have been ob­
served to smite-fche breakwater. Com­
mander Dayman observed that th«
liighost waves off the Cape of Goodi
Hope rose 20 fiiet, the gales which pro
duca them extending over distance
of from 300 to600 miles. !n the At­
lantic Ocean lUr. Scoresby measured!
the-waves witliigreat care and accuracy,
on different occasions. In March,
1841,
he wrote: "In, the afternoon of this
day I stood sometimes on: the saloon
deck or cuddy roof watching the sub­
lime spectacla-presented biy the turbu­
lent waters. I am not aware that 1
ever saw the- sea more terribly mag­
nificent." Looking fronu the port poa
dle box, he says: "I found at lbast
one-half of the waves which overtook
and passed the ship were far abov*the
level of my eye. Frequently I observed
long ranges (not acunainated peaks)
extending 100 yards, perhaps on one
or both sides of the stop, the sea»then
coming nearly right oft, which r®se so
high above the visible horizon, as to
form an angle estimated at two 01
three degrees, when thedistanaeof the
wave summits was. about 10Q yards
from the observer. This measure ol
elevation was by nomeans uncommon,
occurring, I shoald think, at least
once in half a dozen wavea. Some
times peaks of crossing or crests ol
breaking seas would shoot upward at
least 10 or 15 feet higher." The mean
highest waves, not includingthe broken
or acuminated crests, Dr. Scoresby
estimates as rising about
43 feet
above
the level of the hollow occupied at the
moment by the ship.—The Edinburgh
Review.
Clara Louise Kellogg tells the fol­
lowing story of the tostly breastpin
she wenrs: "It was given to ine by
the Dukeof Newcastlein 1868. It was
during the Brighton races that the
Duke of Newcastle invited mother and
myself to be the guests of his fam­
ily at the races. In the invita­
tion be said that he had been losing
Suite
heavily, and jokingly wrote that
I came it might chance his luck. W
went, and that very day the duke won
$50,000, and had th»V*pin made in
commemoration of the event Awith the
picture of the winning horse awl rider,
with hiti colors, And presented it tc
me,"