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AFTER MANY DAYS.
MV MAR V ATKINSON. Gm Siii.irt had only been for two days an inmate of the oui-of-the way where he had come to re farm house winter of hard study> he strolied along this cuperaie after a and already, as mur ling, putting vigorously at his cigar, aiiit dcnioii'hing ciovcr-tops with iiis cane, he « is longing for hisdingly little oflu .. and looking forward, with some dismal, to the two months of rest which his physician had akin io complete prescribed "If in- respectable landlady were a dragon-like, or her pretty a shade less unapproachable!" he ;iy. «But by Jove, this idyl of »till life grows monotonous. It is not bad, either, from an .esthetic point of view," he added, as he paused 011 the brins of the hill. I » Unie niece muttered, dtset. And, in truth, a* pretty a picture of rural beauty as one could wish to see lay stretched at his feet. The orchard through which he had been strolling sloped down lo a meadow gemmed with buttercups ..ml blur-eyed quaker-ladies and iti the midst of it, set like a pearl in its nest of willow trees, was the white spriughouse where famous butter was made, sweet and fra grant a» though it had caught the breath of all tlie apple-blossoms and violets witli which it was surrounded. A row of shining palls were reflecting s Miss Stanford' back the rays of the sun, and a girl' voice ringing out in a quaint Scotcli as ballad, rivaling the birds in its sweetness and power. Mr. Stuart listened for a moment with a new Interest on tils face. "It i- the pretty niece lolding forth down there. I think I will go down and scrape an acquaintance," he said, as lie threw away his cigar. A pretty picture met his eye when he reached the door—a dark, cool place, where the pans stood deep in the cool spring water, and butter that rivaled in hue tlie buttercups without was piled on the white table. And just wli -re a stray sunbeam touched lovingly lier great braid of chestnut hair, bringing out all its hidden gold, stood 1 lie genius of the place. Never did high-born dame, playing at dairy work look more dainty and be witching than this little country maiden with lier sweet, piquant face and won derful long-lashed brown eyes. ,, , the glass to the brim, and manfully took a great gulp. In- could not forbear a grimace, whereat the brow 11 ei es grew * . brigiit witli laughter, which rippled over " - to the sum 1 mouth Stuart hud time to notice how soft and dimpled were tin little brown hands which manipulated the gulden rolls of but. er. giving each a dainty impression of vine, leaves and grapes, before she lookeil up and saw tiim standing there. A vislbl • look of annoyance crossed her fact Stuart hastened to apologize. I intrude, Miss Si an wood, but -I it- tu the fact is," tie said, looking about for and finding very fond of buttermilk an in pirutii fact is, I am and a- 1 am icn thirsty, t thought per ouid favor me with a glass." "the •a, one— haps yu "Oh, certainly'" she said, carelessly. "There is a glass; please help yourself." Now, if there was one thing more than another that Guy Stuart detested, it was buttermilk, and though lie filled "I am glgd you told me you like but termilk, Mr. Stuart," she said. 1 am sure I never would have gunned it from your five. I will see that you are always niipplled with .1 glass for your dinner." Stuart set down hi» glass and joint d in her merry laugh, and after that they were friends the beginning, and the This as the old, old story—old and Guv Stuart sequel sad and sweet as life itself as hole brigiit summer, Idled away the which lie, a struggling young lawyer. could 111 afford to do. And one autumn day he stood beneath the willows with a slim little form in his arms, and a face with all tlie bright bloom fled from tin- bright cheeks on his breast. "You will not forget me, Clare, mv hour, y sweetheart?" he said, as he bent over her will* a face as white as her own "You will wait for me while I am work ing to make a home for yo "It will not lie 1 who will forget," she id, lifting miserable, tearless eyes to his. "Oh Guy, ho -, will 1 go on living without you? How will 1 go back to the old life, and you gone out of it?" "It will not be quite the old life, wilj it, Clare? We will have something to remember, and something to look for ward to better and sweeter than any thing the old life held." All througti the winter his letters came--bright, fond letters, that mad; the sunnhlreof her life. But in the spring they ceased, and through the long, hot summer she drooped, and the bonny face grew wan and white, because she believed some evil had chanced him. I N.l Never for a moment did she doubt his faith. In the autumn, a great change came into he 1 life; for, one morning, the hard old woman who made it bitter and un lovely, passed away, and little Clare •Stanwood became Miss Stanwood, the heiress All the wealth which generations of Stanwood'' had pinched and saved, and lived sparingly and worked hard, to accumulate, came to her, their sole des Cendant. And then there came a sweet-faced, high-bred lady wh in tier arms Clare's nome Clare left the old farm-house behind, and went to her aunt's handsome city home, tin more willingly that she car ried with lier a treasure, compared to which her new-found wealth counted a corner of her took the lonely girl and said that henceforth vould be with her. for nothing For in aunt's desk, she found a package of let ters, with her name on the outside in a hand which she knew well - letteis which Guy Stewart had written, and lier aunt had withheld. But there came no answer to the shy little note she sent to this oid address, and it was some time after she became an inmate of her aunt's home that she found courage to inquire about him. young lawyer, is he not?" said lier aunt, with a sharp glance. "Where did you meet him, Clare?" "I hope he has not been putting non sense into your head," she added, after Clare's shy explanation. "You have four years of hard study before you ere you can entertain any notions ol that kind, and then I hope you will find some one better worthy a place in your thoughts than Guy Stuart. Besides, he is already engaged." "Engaged, aunt?" Are you sure of that?" said Clare, with white lips. "Of churse I am sure. It was an nounced six months ago. He is to marry Emily Grayson—a stupid, peevish little fright; but she is the prospective heiresi of a million, and that covers all defi ciencies. Perhaps it was the story she read in the white face of her niece that caused Mrs. Gieudenniug to change her mind in regard to having the girl's education completed at home, nnd decide to send Clare to Madam Dupont's fashionable school at some distance from the city, where there was little liklihood of meet ing Guy Stuart. It was one of the most brilliant and exclusive balls of the season. Society had contributed its fairest and best, and all the gay world of fashion was repre sented in the crowd that thronged the rooms. Two gentlemen were standing a little apart, watching the brilliant panorama paging before them. "Who is that girl with the Glenden nirig's, Clifford ? What a perfect type of beauty! Where have I seen that face before?" one asked theother. Many eyes were following the lithe figure in soft, trailing robes of creamy white, looped with the glowing pome granate blossoms, of which she, in lier dark beauty, seemed the living embodi ment. "Have mu not met lier, Stuart? That , ... A, ... , , n Miss Clare Stanwood, our peerless , . . . ., nut-brown maid—a niece of Mrs (tien, . . . . , , , , denning and heiress of untold thou . „ sands, , ... ,, ... . , Clare! flit, yes, Guv Stuart knew now where he had seen those long-lash ed, velvety eyes, and that saucy, laugh ing mouth, and for a moment the glitter ing, garish ballroom scene faded away and lu its stead was the sue tie fragrance oi orange blossoms and the cool bubble of a laughing brook. Waif an hour lati r lie was bending over a little, jeweled humi. "We are not quite strangers, i think Mr. Stuart," she said, as their hostess murmured the commonplace words of introduction. "If Miss Stanwood will permit, I will be glad to remember that wo were once friends," said Stunrt, with a tremor in his voice that told her, however it might have been in the old tinie, from that mo ment all of Guy Stuart's soul was at her feet. "Auntie," said Miss Stanwood, on the way home that night, "I thought Mr. Stuart was engaged years ago, what happened to prevent the marriage?" •-lie was engaged to that little goose, Emily Grayson, but she gilted him at the last moment for an Irish baronet, w'th 'Sir' before his name,and any num ber oi acre« of Irish bog for an inherit ance, on which Emily's money was to pay the mortgage." •■Ah!" 1> said Clare, softly, "How very unfortunate for Mr. Stuart." • Her face was aold and scornful in it* | * * * * * They were in the conservatory to gether. Instead of the laughing song of the fittle stream, was the soft drip, of the fountain, as it fell in its marble basin; and for the drooping willow trees was the stately grace oi palm trees and rare exotic shrubs. peerless beauty, and his was white with suppressed passion. "You do not mean it, Clare," he was saying, and his voice was husky with pain. "Not even from your own lips can I take this answer. I cannot believe you have been trifling with me in this heartless manner." "It well becomes you, Mr. Guy Stuart to reproach me with trifling—you, who are so true to your vows, so constant in your love!" "Clare, you wrong me —1 swear you do! in my heart I have always been true to you; but whet; your aunt wrote to me, demanding that I should give you up—reminding me of my poverty and of the certain misery such a mar riage would bring to you, I know she spoke the truth; and when your letters ceased, what, could I believe but tha. you wishes?" And temptation to free myself from the galling fetters of poverty by a loveless marriage. But, oh, Clare, you cannot, judge of the mis ery of that false step, loving you as I did, or the unutterable relief when I again found myself free. When I went down to your old home, determined to confess all lo you, and win your forgive ness. But the house was deserted, and no one there could give me any clue to had acquiesced in her then came the your Clare. well. I do not say that to lose you will spoil my life—I will allow no wo man's caprice to do that; but it will be a very empty life without you, dear." There was a moment's silence, while she stood before him with white face and downcast eyes. Then she said, coldly: "It does not much matter now, Mr. Stuart. Whatever I felt then belongs to the past, and I have no wish to recall it. And now will you kindly take me to my aunt? Or stay; I will not trouble you—I see Major Huntingdon is coming to claim me for the next dance." I have loved you so long and so When Stuart entered the ball room half an hour later, Miss Stanwood was the center of the merriest group in the room. He did not see the little figure crouched on the hearth-rug in the gray of the early morning, with all her ball room finery crushed and torn, and with slim hands clasped over her eyes, to shutout the light that mocked her mis ery. He only knew that a month later the society journalschr micledher departure with her aunt, for a tour of Europe. After that he put down his pain with a strong hand. He had told Clare that he would not permit this to spoil his li.e, :hid he meant it. He'toiled at his desk day after day,and fame and wealth came to him,as it .some time» c* mes to those for whom these things have lost their charm. And if his heart was sometimes burdened with the old,sad refrain,"It might have been," none guessed it. Only people said that Guy Stuart was so devoted to his profession that he had no time for the frivolities of fashionable society." One dav in early spring, when the soft air came stealing in at his office windows, bringing a sweet reminder of green turf, and trees glorious with blos , and all the beauty in which nature was arraying herself, outside tlie dusty turmoil of the city, a great longing came upon him to visite again that old farm house among the green hills. The dav was drawing to a close, and ail the west was dyed in crimson and gold, when he stolied down the well lembered path from tlie village to tlie farmhouse. How little it had al! changedl The trees were heavy with their pink gloiv of blossoms, as they had. been that morning, years ago, when he met her first. Soni » rei under one trees, where the last rays of tlie san shone full on the sweet, proud lace and turned the soft braids of her hair to shining gold, sat the woman w ho had made all the weetness and all the bitterness of his life. s And seeing her thus, all the conven tional words of greeting were forgotten, and all his soul spoke in the passionate "Clare! Clare!" as he stood before lier with outstretched arms. Sin. shivered a little, but looked at him with proud, dauntless eyes. "What brings you here?" she said harshly. "Can you ask me, Clare? Because my life has grow n intolerable. It is weeks and months since even a stray news paper paragraph has brought me any tidings of you, and I came down here to live over again for a little while that brief, bright summer—the one good time of all my life. I did not even know you had returned from abroad." "Then you have not heard why I returned to the old home? It is because it is all that is left to me My fortune is all swallowed up in my uncle's specula tions. I am as poor as the silly girl you wooed and deserted years ago. Perhap's TV, life will not seem knowing this, your so intolerable without me." "Then me now "Clare, is it so? he exclaimed, you will—you must—believe t It at it is vourself I love, and no loss or gain of wealth can make any difference. I would never have spoken again but for this. you shall not wreck both our lives for the sake of this silly pride." Before the truth and love in his eves her long resentment vanished, and he took her in his arms and held her close, while the gray them, and ihe murmur brook sounded like happy laughter. But I know you iove me, and twilight closed about of the little SILVER VS. THE TARIFF. "Senator Aldrich said the other day in answer to a question from a Populist, that he would not accept free silver if it were coupled with the McKinley or any other kind of tariff; that he would not, in fact, accept it under any circumstanc es except it were accompanied by an international readjustment of the ratio between the metals and a general open ing of the mints of the world to silver. This provoked retorts from populists and stiver republicans that Aidrich and his party are not bimettaiists. Carter and few others of his region who have been themselves tend they believe the republican plat form declaration of 1892 promises favors to silver, but their opinions at present have no weight with the republican party. The Rhode Island senator is right on this question of the tariff vs. silver. If the country be forced to wait for new and better tariff legislation until the re publican party declares for free silver the Wilson-Gormon act will remain on the same statute book eternally. It is »aid to be the purpose of the silverite re publican senators to join with the demo crats in the republican congress to be chosen this year and defeat every tariff bill the party frames unless a promise of some sort of favors forsilveris given. It this threat be carried out matters will be simplified for the republicans. There is a strong probability, of course, that the silver men, including the repnblican bolters, will be in a minority the next session. Ii they have a majority, how. ever, and the republicrn party finds this therat is to be carried out, the tariff will be promptly pushed, and then when de feated will be dropped until the silver forces are reduced to subjection. In the meantime the party will give its atten tion other and matters, when it comes up will get the same sort of treatment it received in the house ten twelve days ago. Very early in its career the Republi can party adopted the protective policy but the success of protection in all this third of. a ceuturv of its championship by the republican party as imperatively demanded as the rejec tion of silver legislation now. The tariff law of 1894 has not many ardent friends in this country even in the party respon sible for it, but the republican party will cheerfully iet it stand if the enactment of a bettf r law be made contingent on the debasement of the currency. There will be no entangling alliances between protection and free silver. Each issue will be considered separate!' . Attempts have been made on one or two occasions to yoke them together, but all have been failures. It will be well for the mine-owners to understand the situation at the start, and to be guided in their partisan attitude accordingly. The publicau party will just as resolutely defend the government's honor and the people'' interest in the future as it did in 1869 when it passed the act to main tain the nation's faith with its creditors, and as it did in 1875, when it enacted the law which made everv dollar of the people's money worth a hundred cents in gold." G lobe-Democrat. or w-as never re Cheap Minina. The management of a gold mine in this day, says the Boston Globe, is little short of an exact science, applied with rigid economy. With the old wasttful and expensive methods; it is safe to say that half the mines now in operation would not be in existence. Along with improved methods has come a steady fall in the price of thing that enters into the working of mine. There are very few great pro ducers at the present time which do not have ready access to the railroads with cheap transportation charges and cheap supplies. In the good old days teaming wont to bring $16 a day; now it will not bring over $4. Candles which used to cost $20 a box, now cost less than $5. Giant powder which used to sell at $1 a pound, now brings 12 or 14 cents. The price of fuse per thousand feet has dropped from $30 to $6, iron from cents a pound to 3 cents, steel from 40 cents to 9 cents, shovels and pick* from $2.50 and $3.75 to $1 each. And smelting charges have been duced from $50 and $65 to from $10 to every a was 20 re in Colorado oil is now largely $14. used for this purpose, and where it once cost $3 a gallon it now brings 15 to 20 cents. The opening of the coal fields of Col orado, Wyoming and other western has cheapened the price of coal states in almost equal degree. Averaging this striking fall in prices, a western mining authority computes that $27 will buv the same mining sup plies which cost $100 in 1S70. while an ounce of gold is wortli in coin as it was twenty-five vear And, for that matter, just as it was Mean $20.67. just ago. half a century ago. Cyanide, chlorination, bromination and other similar processes have taken the place of the oid and extravagantly wasteful devices, and ores that yielded $8 to $10 a ton by amalgamation, now doublo the amount, while the return expense of treatment is far less. Keeping Accounts With the Farm. Farin' rs as a rule are too negli gent in this matter. They often com plain of haid times, cheap wheat and low prices for all other farm products, when they are utterly unable to state just what their products cost them per bushel or per ton. It is one of the most satisfactory accounts a firmer can keep, and has been largely the means of abling the writer to reduce the cost of producing a bushel of wheat from $1.25 in 1882 to 34 cents in 1894, allowing the same pay for labor expended and for rental of land in each case. The cost of all other crops was also reduced, but the .eductions were not so marked as in the case noted. While it has a strong ten dency to reduce the cost of production, this is not all. It enables a farmer to know whether he can afford to sell his products at prices prevailing when he wants to sell. If he raises them at a loss he will know it, and again it is a great help in showing him which crop pays best on the farm, so that he can grow more of what is adapted to his soil and climate and is most profitable. Any cheap memorandum book will answer the purpose, but an index ledger is better. Then plant your farm and name or number the fields, stating how many acres each contains. When you begin farm operations in the spring charge the field with all the labor at a given price for hand and team, a given price for hand where team is not used, also ail seed grain at what it is worth at the time as seed, and lastly, charge the field with a certain amount of rent or in terest on investment. Don't forget to keep dates for all these charges, for they are a wonderful satisfaction in after When you gather the crop give years. credit for the product in bushels or tons, and at the end of the year it is an easy matter to determine the exact cost of each product. When once accustomed to keeping such accounts, the desire to continue will grow. FIELD AND THE KISS. Him 4-i-niuI 'l.cne llrsci-ilKid Kmxna Abbott's Mode of Oise illation. Eugene Field was a great admirer of Emma Abbott, and many have given him the credit for "discovering" her, says-the Hartford Times. He always -aid nice things about her whenever ; he came, wrote verse to the fair Emma in Kansas City, when Field was then engaged on the Times, and "jollied" the company as only a humorist can. In January, 1SS0, Emma Abbott played a week's engagement. Paul and Virgina." One night she William gave Castle was the tenor. In this opera occurs a kissing scene and the manner in which Emma passed through the ordeal delighted the heart of Mr. Field so much that the following Sunday, as a part of a four-column tribute to the singer, appeared this expansive descrip tion : long, low, lan guishing, limpid, liquid, lingering kiss! 1 was not a tender kiss, nor a studied kiss, nor an artistic kiss, nor a fervent kiss, nor a boisterous kiss, nor a paroxys mal kiss, nor a nervous kiss, nor a fra ternal kiss, nor a gingerly kiss, diffuse kiss, nor a concentrated kiss, nor a diffident kiss, nor s popgun kiss_'twas iu>r a .1 calm, holy, ecstatic outbreaking of two fond and trusting hearts, an interming ling of two gentle souls sanctified by love, a communion of the intangible by tangible means, a blending of earth with heaven, in which the latter had a mani fest preponderance, a» Troiius, stealing by night into the Trojan camp, might fain have breathed on Cressida's maiden lip, to the melody of the joyful nightingale that sung o'f lo, e, and in the sheen of the round, red moon and the stars that see but never tell." 'Twas such a kiss < If there is another kiss that will known in Kansas City, parture of Abbott the "Abott kiss a standard expression. Gen. Lee's saddle has just been sold in Chicago. bought it—Texas Sifter. description of a outrank this it is not After the de was ( So has the tnan who