Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 51. t* CHAPTER X. n* HE sa6ws JUS TEETH.' If they lind dressed him In one of the swallowtalled coats and oiled his hair till the drops fell from it and it lay as smooth as an elder's on sacrament Sun day. t]isr£ would still have been some* thing unanolnted in ttye aspect of the fellow. As It -was, standing there in strange old costume, bis head pre senting much the appearance of hav ing been deeply rolled in sand, bis eye lids stvollen, the hair lianglqg over Jiis forehead and a dogged sullenness on his features, he presented most the ap pearance of an ill conditioned young buffalo. "Beloved Lord," cried Tanf Sannie, "how he looks! Come In. boy. Couldn't you come and 6ay good day to me? Don't you want some supper?" He said he wanted nothing and turned his heavy eyes away from her. "There's a ghost been seen in your father's room," said Tanf Sannie. "If you're afraid, you can sleep In the kitchen." "I will sleep in our room," said tho boy slowly. "Well, you can go now," she said, "but be up early to take the sheep. The herd"— "Yes, be np early, my boy," Inter rupted Bonaparte, smiling. "I am to be master of this farm now, and we shall be good friends, I trust, very good friends, if you try to do your duty, my dear boy." Waldo turned to go, and Bonaparte, looking benignly^it the candle, stretch ed out one unstockinged foot, over which Waldo, looking at nothing In particular, fell with a heavy thud upon the floor. "Dear inel 1 hope yon are not hurt, my boy," said Bonaparte. "You'll have many a harder thing than that, though, before you've gone through life," he •dded consolingly as Waldo picked «P. The lean Hottentot laughed till the room rang again, and Tant'-Sannie tit tered till her sides aclied. When be had gone, the little maid be gan to wash Bonaparte's feet. "O Lord, beloved Lord, how he did fall! I can't think of it," cried Tant' Sannie, and she laughed again. "I al ways did know he was not right, but this evening any one could see it," she added, wiping the tears of mirth from her face. "His eyes are as wild as if the devil was in them. He never was like other children. The dear Lord knows, if he doesn't walk alone for hours talking to .himself. If you sit. In the room with him, you can see his lips moving the whole time^and if you talk to him 20 times he doesn't.hear you. Daft eyes—he's as mad as mad can be." The repetition of the word mad con veyed meaning to Bonaparte's mind. He left off paddling his toes in the wa ter. "Mad mad? I know that kind of liyid," said Bonaparte, "and 1 know the thing to give for it- the front end of a little horsewhip, the tig nice thing takes it out," said Bonaparte. The Hottentot laughed, and trans lated. "No more walking about and talking to themselves on this farm now," said Bonaparte, "no more, minding of sheep and reading of books atfthe same time. The .point of a horsewhip Is a little thing, but I think he'll have a taste of it before long." Bonaparte rubbed bis bands and looked pleasantly across his nose, and then the three laughed to gether grimly. And Waldo In bis cabin crouched in the dark In a corner, with his knees drawn up to his chin. Doss sat among the "karroo" bushes, one yellow ear drawn over bis wicked little eye, ready to flap away any ad venturous, fly that'might-settle on his nose. Around him In the morning sun light fed the sheep betjiud hlqi Jay his master, polishing bis machine. He found much comfort In handling It that morning. A dozen philosophical essays or angelically attuned' songs for the consolation of the bereaved could nev-' er have been to him what that little sheep shearing machine was that day. After straggling to see the unseeable, growing drunk with the endeavor to span the infinite and writhing before the inscrutable mystery it is a renovat ing relief to turn to soihe slmple, feel able, welghable substance, to some thing whicli has a smell and a color, which may be handled and turned over this way and that. Whether there be "pr be not a hereafter, whether there be any use In calling aloud to th« unseon power, whether there be an unseen power to call to, whatever be the true nature of the I who call.and of the ojj jeets around me. whatever be our meaning, our Internal essence, our cause (and in a certain ordtft- of mlnc)s death and the agony of loss Inevitably awaken the wild desire, at other times smothered, to iook into these things), whatever be the nature of that, which lies beyond the unbrpken wallwhich the limits of the hcMjh'lniellect build BY OLIVE •'A TALE OF LIFE IN THE BOER REPUBLIC. tip on every band, this thing is certaln —a knife will cut wood, and one cog ged wheel will turn another. This Is sure. Waldo found an Immeasurable satis faction in the handling of bis machine, but Doss winked and blinked and thought it all frightfully monotonous out there on the flat and presently dropped asleep, sitting bolt upright Suddenly his eyes opened wide. Some thing was coming from the direction of the homestead. Winking bis eyes and looking Intently, he perceived it was the gray mare. Now, Doss had won dered much of late what had become of her master. Seeing she carried some one on her back, he now came to his own conclusion and began to move bis tall violently up and down. Presently he pricked up one ear and let the other hang. His tall became motionless, and the expression of his mouth was one of decided disapproval bordering on scorn. He wrinkled his Hps up on each side Into little lines. The sand was soft, and the gray mare came on so noiselessly that the boy heard nothing till Bonaparte dis mounted. Then Doss got up and moved back a step. He did not approve of Bonaparte's appearance. His cbstume, In truth, was of a nnique kind. It was a combination of the town and conn try. The tails of his black cloth coat were pinned up behind to keep -them 'from rubbing be had on a pair of moleskin trousers and leather gaiters, and in his hand he carried a little-whip of rhinoceros hide. Waldo started and looked np. Had there been a moment's time he would have dug a hole In the sand with his hands and burled his .treasure. It was only a toy of wood, ^ut he loved it, as one of necessity loves what has been born of him, whether of the flesh or. spirit. When cold eyes have looked a^ It, the feathers are rubbed'off our but terfly's wing forever.., "What have you here, my lad?'' said Bonaparte, standing by him and point ing with the end of bis wliip to the medley of wheels and hinges. The boy muttered something Inaudi ble and half spread his hand over-the thing. "But this seems to be a very Ingen ious little machine," said Bonaparte, seating himself on the ant heap and bending down over it with deep Inter est. "What is it for, my lad?' "Shearing sheep." "It Is a very nice little machine," said Bonaparte. "How does it work, now? I have never seen anything so Ingenious!" There was never a parent who beard deception in the voice that praised bis child, his firstborn. Here was one who liked the thing that had been created in him. He forgot everything. He showed how the shears would work with a little guidance, how the sheep would be held and the wool fall Into the trough. A flush burst over his face as he spoke. "I tell you what, my lad," said Bona parte emphatically when the explana tion was finished, "we must get you a patent. Your fortune is made. In three years' time there'll not be' a farm Itl this colony where It Isn't working. You're a genius: that's what you are!" said Bonaparte, rising. "If it were made larger," said the boy, rals.ug his eyes, "it would work more smoothly. Do you think there would be any one In this colony would be able to make It?" "I'm sure they could," said Bona parte, "and, if not, Why I'll do my best for you. I'll send it to England. It must be done somehow. How long have you worKed. at It?" "Nine months," said the boy. "Oh, It Is such a nice little, machine," snld Bonaparte, "one can't help feeling an interest In it. There is only,one lit tle Improvement, one very little Im provement, I should like to make." Bonaparte put his foot on- the ma chine and crushed it in the saqd. The boy looked up into his face. "Looks better now," said Bonaparte, "doesn't It? If we can't have It made In England, we'll sond It to America. Goodby ta, ta he wadded. "You're a great genius, a born -genius, my dear boy. There's no doubt about It." He mounted the gray mare and rode oft. The dog watched his retreat with cynical satisfaction, but bis master lay on the ground with his head on his arms in the sand, and the little wheels and chips of wood lay on the ground around hjm. The dog Jumped on bis back and snapped at the black curls till, finding that no notice was taj cn. he walked off to -play with a'black beetle. The beetle was bard-at work trying to roll home a great'^ball of dung It had been collecting all the morning, but Doss broke tl& ball-and' eat tbe beetle's bind legs and then bit off its bead. And It was all play, and no one could tell wlint It had-llved and worked for—a striving and a striving end an ending in uotlilng. "I have found something in the loft." said Em to Wal(lo, who was listlessly piling cakes of fuel on the luggl wall a week after. "It is a box of books that belonged to my father. We thought that Tant' Sannie bad burned them." The boy put dotfn the cake he was raising and looked at her. "I don't think they are very nice, not stories," sue added, "but you can go and take any you like.1' So saying, she took up the plate in which she had brought his breakfast and walked off to tbe house. After that the boy worked quickly. The pile of fuel Bonaparte had ordered him to pack was on the wall In half an hour. He then went to throw salt on the skins laid out to dry. Finding the pot empty, he went to the loft to refill it. Bonaparte Blenkins, whose door opened at the foot of the ladder, saw the boy go up and stood in the door Way waiting for his return. He want ed his boots blacked. Doss, finding he conld not follow bis master up the round bars, sat patiently at the foot of the ladder. Presently he looked up longingly, but no one appeared. Then Bonaparte looked'up also and began to call, but there was no answer. What could the boy be doing? The loft was an unknown land to Bonaparte. He had often wandered what was up there. liked to know what was In all locked up places and out of the way corners, but he was afraid to climb the ladder. So Bonaparte look ed up and. In the, name of all that was tantalizing, questioned what the boy did up there. The loft was used only as a lumber room. What could the fellow find up there to keep him "so long? Could the Boer woman have beheld Waldo at that instant any .lingering doubt which rnlght have remained in her mind as to the boy's Insanity would instantly have vanished, for, having filled the salt pot, he proceeded to look for the box of .books among the rubbish that filled the loft Under a pile of sacks he found it—a rough packing case, nailed up, but with one loose plank. He lifted that and saw the even backs of a row of books. He knelt down before the box and ran his hand along Its rough edges, as if to assure himself of its existence. He stuck his hand In among the books and pulled out two. He felt them, thrust his fingers in among the leaves and crumpled them a little, as a lover feels tbe hair of his mistress. Tbe fellow gloated over his treasure. He had bad a dozen books in the course of his life. Now here was a mine of them opened at hls feet- .After awhile he begamto read,the titles and now and agam opened.4 book and. read a sentence .but .be was too excited to catch the meanings distinctly. At last he came to a dull brown volume. He read the name, opened It In the center and where he opened began to read. 'Twas a chapter on property that he fell upon, "Communism, Fourlerlsm, St Simon- Ism," in a work on political economy. He read down one page and turned over to the next he read down that without changing his posture by an Inch he read the next and tbe next, kneeling up all tbe while with the book In bis hand and his lips parted. All he read he did not fully under stand. The thoughts were new to him. But this was the fellow's startled joy In the book-»the thoughts were his tfiey belonged to him. He had never thought them befor#, but they were his. He laughed silently and Internally, with the still Intensity of triumphant 'joy. So, then, all thinking creatures did not send up the one cry: "As thou, dear Lord, hast created things in the beginning, so are they now, so ought they to be, so will they b'e, world with out end, and It doesn't concern us what they are. Amen." There were men to whom not only "kopjes" and stones were calling out. Imperatively, "What are w*e, and how came we here? Un derstand us and know us," but to whom even the old, old relations between man and man and the customs^ of the ages called and could not be made still and forgotten. The boy's heavy body quivered with excitement So he was not alone, not alone. He could not quite have told any one why he was so glad and this warmth had come to him. His cheeks were burning. No wonder that Bona parte called In vain and Doss put bis paws on the ladder nnd whined till three-quarters of an hour had passed. At last the boy put .the book in his breast and buttoned it tightly to him. He took up the salt pot and went to the top of the ladder. Bonaparte, with his hands folded under his coattails, looked up when he appeared and ac costed him. "You've been rather a long time up there, my lad," he said as the boy de scended with a tremulous haste, most unlike his ordinary slow movements "You didn't hear jne calling, I sup pose?" Bonaparte whisked the tails of his coat up and down as he looked at him Ho (Bonaparte Blenkins) had eves which were very farseelng. He looked at the pot. It was rather a small pot to have taken (hree-quarters of all hour lu the filling. He looked at the face. It, was flushed. And yet Tant' 'Saunle kept uo wine. He had not been drinking. His eyes were wide open jlnd bright He had not been sleeping. There was no girl up there, lie had not been maklug love. Bo naparte looked at hlra sagaciously. What would account for the marvelous change lu the boy coming down the ladder from the boy going up the lad der? One thing there was. Did not Tanf_ San$}e keep lntho loft ^uK S E M1 -12 QTTTJMWA, WAPELLO COUNTY, IOWA, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1899. tongs" and nice smoked sausages? There mnst be something nice to eat up there. Aha! That was It! Bonaparte was so Interested. In car rying out this chain of Inductive rea sohing thatlie qufte forgot to have his boots blacked He watched the boy shuffle off with the salt pot under his arm. Then he stood in his doorway and .raised his eyes to the quiet blue sky and audibly propounded tills riddle to "himself: "What is the connection between the naked back of certain boy with a greatcoat on and a salt pot under his arm and the/fip of a horsewhip? An swer: No connection at present, but there will be soon." Bonaparte was so pleased with this sally of .his -Vit that he chuckled a lit tle and Wenfc to lle'down on bis bed. There was bread baking that after noon, and thfere was afire lighted in the brick oven behind the house, nnd Tanf Satinie-had- left'the great wood en elbowed chair In which she passed her life and'waddled dut to look at it Not far off -was Waldo, who, having thrown a pall of food Into the pigsty, now leaned over the sod wall looking at the pigs. Half of the sty was dry, but the lower half vwas a pool of mud, on the edge of which the mother sow lay with closed eyes, her ten little ones sucking. The father pig, knee deep in the mud, stood running his snout into a rotten pumpkin and wriggling his curled tail. Waldo wondered dreamily as he stared why they wtfre pleasant to look at. Taken singly, they were not beau tiful taken together, they were. Was it not because there Was a certain har mony about them? The old sow was suited to the little pigs and the little pigs to their mother, the old boar to the rotten pumpkin and all to the mild. They suggested the thought of nothing that should be added, of nothing that should be.taken away. And, he won dered on vaguely, was not that the secret of all beauty, that you who look on— So he stood dreaming and leaned farther and farther over the sod wall and looked at tbe pigs. All this time Bonaparte Blenkins was sloping down from the house in an aimless sort of way, but he kept one eye fixed on the pigsty, and each gyra tion brought him nearer to it. Waldo stood like, a thing asleep when Bona parte came close up to'him. In old days, when a small boy play ing in an Irish street gutter, he (Bona parte) had been familiarly known among his comrades under the title of Tripping Ben, this from .tie rare ease and dexterity with' whlt-h, by merely' •projecting his foot^he -could -precipitate" any unfortunate companion on to the crown of his head. Years had elapsed, and Tripping Ben bad become Bona parte, but the old gift was In him still. He came close to the pigsty. All the: defunct memories of his boyhood re-' turned on him In a flood as with an adroit movement he inserted his leg between Waldo and the wall and Bent him over the pigsty. Tho little pigs were startled at the strange Intruder and ran behind their mother,.'who sniffed' at him. Tanf Sannie smote her bands together and laughed, hut Bonaparte was far from, joining her. Lost In rfeverle, he gazed at the distant horizon. The sudden reversal of head and feet had thrown out the volume that Waldo carried in his breast Bsnaparte pick ed it up and began to inspect It as the boy climbed slowly over the wall. He would have walked off sullenly, but he wanted his book and waited till It should bo given him. "Ha!" said Bonaparte, raising his eyes ?rom the leaves of the book which he was examining. "I hope your coat has not been Injured. It is of an ele gant cut. An heirloom, I presume, from your "paternal grandfather? It looks nice now." "O Lord, O Lord," cried Tanf San nie, laughing (Wid holding her sides, "how the child looks—as though he thought the' mud would never wash off! O Lord, I shall die! You, Bona parte, are" the funniest man I effcr saw." Bonaparte.Blenkins was now carefnl ly inspecting the volume he had picked up. Ajnorig the subjects on which the darkness of his understanding had been enlightened during his youth po litical economy had not been one. lie was not therefore very clear as to what the nature of tlie book mlgl\t be, and, as the name,,of the writer, .T. S. Mill, might, for. anything he knew to the contrary, have belonged to a veu erable member of the British and For eign Bible society, it by no means threw light upon the question. He was not In any way sure that political econ omy had nothing to do with the cheap est way of procuring clothing for the army and navy, which would be cer tainly both a political and an economi cal subject But Bonnparto soon came to a con clusion as to the nature of the book and its contents by the application of a simple rule now largely acted upon, but which, becoming universal, would save much thought and valuable time It Is of marvelous simplicity, of in finite utility, of universal applicability. It may easily be committed to memory aud runs tlius: Whenever you come Into contact with any book, person or opinion of which you absolutely comprehend nothing, declare that book, net-son or oplnlou to be Immoral. Bespatter It, vituperate against It. stronalv Insist that any Ai.in o' woman humoring It Is a fool or a knave. or both. Care fully abstain from studyilig It. Do all that in you lies to annihilate that book, perso_n or Acting on this rule,* so wide In its comprehensiveness, so beautifully sim ple in its working, Bonaparte ap proached Tanf Sannie with the book in his band. Waldo came a step nearer, eying it like a dog whose young has fallen Into evil hands. "This book," said Bonaparte, "Is ilot a fit and proper study for a young and Immature mind." Tant' Sannie did not understand a word and said: "What?" "This book," said Bonaparte, bring ing down bis finger with energy on the cover, "this book is sleg, sleg, davel, davel!" Tanf Sannie perceived from the gravity of his countenance that It was no laughing matter. From the words sleg and davel she understood that the book was evil and had some connec tion with the prince who pulls the wires of evil over the whole earth. "Where did you get this book?" she nsked, turning her twinkling little eyes on Waldo. "I wish that my legs may be as tliin as an Englishman's if it isn't one of your father's. He had more sins than all the Kaffirs in Kaf firland, for all that he pretended to be so good all those years and to live with out a wife because he was thinking of tiie one that was dead! As though ten dead wives could make up for one fat one with arms and legs!" cried Tanf Sannie, snorting. "It was not my father's book," said the boy savagely. "I got it from your loft." "My loft! My book! How dare you?" cried Tant' Sannie. "It was Em's father's. She gave it me," he muttered, more sullenly. "Give It here. What is the name of it? What Is It about?" she asked, put ting her finger upon the title. Bonaparte understood. "Political economy," he said slowly. "Dear Lord!" said Tanf Sannie. "Cannot one hear from the very sound what an ungodly book It is? One can hardly say the name. Hnven't we got curses enough cn this farm?" cried Tanf Sannie eloquently—"my best Im ported Merino ram dying of nobody knows what, nnd the Shorthorn cow casting her two calves, and the sheep eaten up with the scab and the drought? And is this a time to bring ungodly things about tbe place, to call down the vengeance of Almighty God to punish us more? Didn't the minis ter tell me when I was confirmed not to read any book except my Bible and hymnbook that the devil was in all the rest? And I never have read any other book," said Tniif Sannie,' with tlgorons energy, "and I never will!" Waldo saw that the fate of his book was sealed and turned sullenly on his heel. J'So 1 you will not stay to hear what I say!" crid Tanf Sannl?. "There, take your polity-gollity-gomlny,-your devil's book!" she cried, flinging the book at his head with much energy. It merely touched his forehead on ine side and fell to the ground. "Go on!" she cried. "I know you are going to talk to yourself. People who talk to themselves always talk to the devil. Go and tell him all about it Go, go! Run!" cried Tanf Sannie. But tbe boy neither quickened nor slackened bis pace and passed sullenly round the back of the wagon bouse. Books have been thrown at other heads before and since that summer afternoon by hands more white and delicate than those of the Boer wom an but whether the result of the proc ess has been In any case wholly satis factory may be questioned. We love that with a peculiar tenderness, we treasure it with a peculiar care, it has for us quite a fictitious value, for which we have suffered. If we may not carry it anywhere else, we will car ry It in our hearts and always to the end. Bonaparte Blenkins went to pick up the volume, now loosened from Its cov er, while Tanf Sannie pushed the Btumps of wood farther Into tile oven. Bonaparte eniue close to her, flipped the book knowingly, nodded and looked at the fire. Tanf Sannie comprehend ed and, taking the volume from Ills hand, threw It Into the back of the oven. It lay upon the heap of coals, smoked, flared and blazed, and the po litical economy was uo more—gone out of existence, like many another poor heretic of flesh and blood. Bonaparte grinned and to watch the process brought his face so- near the oven door that the -white hair on Ills eyebrows got singed. He then inquired if there were auy moro in the loft Learning that there were, he made signs indicative of taking up armfuls and flinging them into the fire. But Tanf Sannie was dubious. The de ceased Englishman had left all his per sonal effects specially to his child- It was all very well for Bonaparte to talk of bufnlng the books. Ho llhd had Ills hair spiritually pulled, and she bad no wish to repeat ills experience. She shook her head. Bonaparte was displeased. But then a happy thought occurred to him. He suggested that the key of the loft should henceforth be put into his own safe care and keep ing, no one gaining possession of it without ills permission. To this Tanf Sannie readily assented, and tbe two walked lovingly to the house to look for it CHAPTER XI UK UITKS. Bonaparte Blenkins was riding home on tin- gray iiHire. He had ridden out that afternoon partly for the benelit of his health, partly to maintain his char acter as overseer of the farm. As he on slowl^e thon-'itfnUy touched the ears of the gray mare with his whip. "No, Bon, my boy," he addressed himself, "don't propose. You can't marry for four years, on account of the will. Then whjr propose? Wheedle her, tweedle her, teedle her, but don't let her make sure of you. When a wo man," said Bonaparte, sagely resting his finger against the side of his nose —"when a woman Is sure of you, she does what slie likes with yon, but When she Isn't you do what you like with her. And I"— said Bonaparte. Here lie drew the horse up suddenly and looked.. He was now close to the house, and leaning over the pigsty wall. In company with Em. who was showing her the pigs, was a strange female figure. It was the first visitor that had appeared on the farm since his arrival, and he looked at her with interest She was a tall, pudgy girl of 15, weighing 150 pounds, with bag gy. pendulous cheeks audi upturned nose. She strikingly resembled Tant' Sannie In form nnd feature, but her Bleepy good eyes lacked the twinkle that dwelt in the Boer woman's small orbs. She was attired in a' bright green print, wore brass rings .in her ears and glass beads round her neck and was sucking the tip of her large linger as she looked at the pigs. "Who is it that has come?" asked Bonaparte when he stood drinking bis coffee in the front room. "Why, my niece, to be sure," said Tanf Sannie, the Hottentp.t maid translating. "She's the only daughter of my only brother Paul, and she's come to visit me. She'll be a nice mouthful to the man that can get Iier." added Tanf Sanuie. "Her fa ther's got f2,000 in the green wagon box under his bed aud a farm and 5,000 sheep and God Almighty knows, how many goats and horses. They milk ten cows in midwinter, and the young men are after her like flies about a bowl of milk. She says she means to get married in four months, but she doesn't yet know to whom. It was so with me when I was young'," said Tanf Sannie. "I've sat up with the young uien four and five nights a •week, and they will come riding again as soon as ever they know that the time's up that tbe Englishman made me agree not to marry in." The Boer woman smirked compla cently. "Where are you going to?" asked Tant' Sannie presently, seeing that Bo naparte rose. "Ha! I'm just going to the kraals. I'll be In to supper," said Bonaparte. Nevertheless when he reached His own door be stopped and-,turned in there.- Soon after he stood before the little glass arrayftd In bis best white shirt with the little tucks and.shaviug himself. He had on his very best trou sers and had heavily oiled the little fringe at the back of his head, which, however, refused to become darker. But what distressed him most was his nose. It was very red. He rubbed' his finger and thumb on the wall and put. a little whitewash on it but, finding it rather made matters worse, he rubbed •it off again. Then he looked carefully Into his own eyes. They certniiily wero a little pulled down at the outer cor ners, which gave them the appearance of looking crosswise, but then they were a nice blue. So he put on his best coat, took up his stick and wept out to supper, feeling on the whole well satis fled. "Aunt," said Trana to Tanf Sannie when that night tbey lay together in the great wooden bed, "why does the -Englishman sigh so when he iooks at me?" "Ha!" said Tanf Sannie, who was half asleep, but suddenly started, wide awake. "It's because he thinks you look like me. I tell you, Trana," said Tant' Sannie, "the man is mad with love of me. 1 told him the other night I couldn't marry till Em wiis 10 ot I'd lose all the sheep her father left me. And he talked about Jacob work ing seven years nnd seven ye'ars again for his wife, and of course he meant me," said Tanf Sanuie pompously. "But he won't get me so easily as he thinks. He'll have to ask more than once." "Oh!" said Trana, who was a lump ish girl and not much given to talking, but presently she added, "Aunt, \vliy does the Englishman always' knock against a person when he passes them?" "That's because yon are always In the way." said Tant' Sannie. "But, aunt," said Trana presently, "1 think he is very ugly." "Phugh!" said Tanf Saunie. "It's only because we're not accustomed to such noses In this country. In his coun try, |he says, all the peoplo have such noses, and the redder your nose is the higher you are. He's of the family of the Queen Victoria, you know." said Tanf Saunle, wakening up with her subject, "and he doesn't think any thing of governors and church elders and such people. They are nothing, to him. Whcu his aunt with the dropsy dies, he'll have money enough to buy all the farms lu this district!" "Oil!" said Trana. That certainly made a difference. '•\es," said Tanf tannic, "aud he's onl.v 41, though vou'd take him to be 00. nnd he told me last night the teal reason of his baldness." I'anf Saunle then proceeded to relate now. at 13 years of age, Uonaparje had courted a fnir young ladv liuw a deadly rival. Jealous of his verdant loiMis, his golden flowing hair. had. with a damnable and Insinuating de ception, made him a present of a pot of pomatum how, apclvlny It ln tho A'V^ v» Cw NUMBER 76 evening, on rising In the morning he found his pillow strewn with the gold en locks and, looking into the, glass, beheld the shining and smooth expanse which henceforth he must hear. Tho few remaining hairs were turned to a silvery whiteness! and the young lady married his rival. "Aud," said Tant' Sannie solemnly, "if It had not been for the grace of God nnd reading of the Psalms, he says, he would have killed himself. He says he could kill himself quite easily if he wants to marry a woman and she won't." "A le worcld," said'Trana, tod then they went to sleep. Every one was lost In sleep soon, but from the window of the cabin the light streamed forth.- It came from a dung (ire over which Waldo sat brood in.?. Hour after hour lie sat there, now and again In-owing a fresh lump of fuel on to the tire, which Utinii'il up bravely and then sank into a grrat bed of red coals, which retlected them selves in the hoy's eyes as lie sat there brooding, brooding. Iiroodiny. Ai last, when the fire was blazing a! ils bright-' est. he rose suddenly and walked slow ly to a beam from which an ox "riem" hung. loosening It. lie ran a noose in one end :,nd then doubled It round his arm. •'Mine,- mine! 1 have a right." ho muttered, and then something louder, "If I fall and am killed, so much the better!" lie opened tiie door and went out into tho starlight. He walked with Ills eyes bent upon the ground, bill overhead it was one of those brilliant southern nights when every space so small that your hand might cover it shows 30 cold white points, and the Milky Way is a belt -of cliarp frosted silver. He passed hp door where Bonaparte lay dreamtix of Trana and her wealth, and he mounted the ladder steps. From those he clambered with some difficulty -on to the roof of the house. It was of olU rotton thatch with a ridge of white plaster, and it crumbled away amder Ills feet at every step. He trod as ljeaw ily as he could. So much the bettor tt he'fell. He knelt down when he feot to Kibe far gable and began to fasten :his, "riem" to the crumbling bricks, ©o low was the little window of the loft With one end of tlie "riem" tied round the gable, the other end round 'his waist how easy to slide down to it, and to ope,n it through one of tiia broken panels, -and to go In. and to fill his arms with books, and to clamber up again! They had burned one book. He would have 20. Every man's hand was against.his. His should be against every man's. No one would help hfliu. He would help himself. He lifted the black, damp hair from his Ifnit forehend and looked round to cool his hot face. Then he saw what a regal night it was. lie knelt silently and looked up. A thousand eyes were looking ,down at him. bright and so cold. There was a laughing irony In them. "So hot, so bitter, so angry! Poor little mortall" He was ashamed. He folded bis arms nnd sat on ihe ridge of the roof looking up at them. "So hot. so bitter, so ai:gry!" It was as though a cold hand bird been laid upon Ills throbbing forehead, and slowly they began to l'ade and grow dim. Tanf Sannie ami the burn ed book, Bonaparte and th'.' broken machine, the box la the loft.' he him self sitting there—how small the.v all became, i'ven the grave over yonder! Those stars that shone on up above so quietly, they had seen-a thousand such little existences, a thousand such little existences tight.just so tiercely. Hare up just so' brightly and go out. and they, the old, old stars, shone on for ever. "So hot. so angry, poor little soul!" they said. The "riem" slipped from li'.s fingers. {jHe sat with his anus folded lookiug. up. ",\Ye,"3!ild the stars, "have seen the earth when it was .voting. We have seen small tilings creep out upon its surface—small things that prayed and loved ainl cried very loudly aud then crept under it again. Hut we." said the stars, "are as «ld as the unknown." lie leaucd his ciiiy against the palm of hls.haiul and looked up at them. So long he sat hiere that bright stars set and new out® i-ose- .nid yet he sat on. Then at last he stood up nnd began to looseu tjie "riem" from the gable. What did It matter about the books? The lust and the desire for them had died out. If they pleased to keep them from hhn, they might. What matter? It was a very little thing. Wliv bate and struggle and light? Let It be as It would. He twisted the "riem" round his arm and walked back along tho ridge of the* house. ..... (To be continued.) Prubal»]c CaiiHe for tlie Fnflnre. Mrs. Jewiywcd—I was going to have some sponge cake as surprise for you, dear, but 1 confess it was a failure Mr. Ncwlywcd—What was the mat ter? I "I don't know for sure, but I think the druggist sent me the wrong kimj of sponges."—Philadelphia Record. Aot (luttc the Womt. ."I'm happy every time 1 hear that piano going next door." "Do you like that girl's horrid play-, ing?" N I a a in would suffer if it was a melodeou."— Detroit Free Press.