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Jonas was cooking a bit of bacon
on the little stove when the door open ed and a rasping voice spoke famil iarly: “Groin’ to sell out, I see, Jonas, eh?” Jonas looked up in evident displeas ure. He web a slender, old man—per haps seventy years of age. His hair was thin and white, and his beard and moustache grew long and straggly, showing the pink skin beneath, for Jonas was in prime health as a result of his regular, aetive farm life. Now his cheeks were pinker with irritation. Squire Barlow was not a welcome vis itor. Jonas’s glance encountered another old man—as advanced in years as himself, but not as weH preserved. He was short and stout, with black, beady eyes deep-set in a yellowish, leathery face. He looked the mean, h&rd-flsted man he was known to be; and as Jonas was not pleased with the interruption he turned again to the stove, giving curt assent to the Squire’s inquiry: “Ye see right, Guess ye know the meanin’ of red flags jes’ as well as 1 do, seein’ as how gen’raly ye happen to be ‘roun’ where there’s bargains. Will ye shet th’ door, Squire? I ain’t got no plans for heatin’ all out doors.” Jonas spoke impatiently. Then, as the Squire closed the door with an whipped the groun’ from under my feet with ye’re consumed pretty man ners an’ ye’re bank account, and took Ann Eliza out o’ my arms, an’ married her, damn ye. Mebbe ye don’.t remem ber that, ye—ye whelp, ye lyin," dirty, low-down—.” It was well for the Squire that his breath failed, for Jonas was up in an instant, his eyes flashing, his nostrils white and dilated with sudden, virile anger He leaned with one hand on the table, and in his grasp was the long bread-knife. His voice was om inously quiet: “Steady, Squire. I don’t allow no man to insult me in my own house, nor anywhere else.' I guess ye’ve said ’bout enough. Ye might as well git out an’ stay.” The Squire calmed down immediate ly. He picked up his hat, buttoned up his coat over his still heaving breast, and laid a heavy hand on the door knob. Then he turned and for full a minute the two men looked steadily each into the other’s eyes like animals about to spring. The Squire’s lips were drawn in a sneer, showing his yellow stubby teeth. “I ain’t got no weepins,” he said finally, opening the door. “But mebbe this time to-mor row ye won’t be so quick to ask me to git out I jest called to give ye “HR LAY STILL. THE PRECIOUS BUNDLE CLASPED IN HIS ARMS. angry slam, he lifted the meat out of the pan with a fork and put It on a blue plate that rested, warming, on the edge of the stove. Ye don’t seem very -glad to see me, Jonas.” The Suire’s voice was a cross between a whine and a snarl, and his black eyes gleamed malignantly. Jonas continued his preparations for breakfast He gave a final stir to the coffee, set the pot and the plate of meat on the table, and cut a thick slice of bread. Then, as he sat down to eat he looked up at the Squire with cold, hard eyes: “I didn’t ask ye to come in, Squire, an’ m not ask ye to go long as ye behave yerself.” He spoke very quiet ly, almost as though he were talking to himself. And as the Squire’s face reddened with suppressed anget (for he had expected Jonas fo cringe be fore him) Jonas calmly stirred his cof fee, fooking meditatively out of the window across the bleak, frozen hill side. A . Jonas's indifference was too much for the Squire’s temper and he let him self out with an oath. An-n-n. ne snarled. “Ye may well say ye didnt ask me In, Jonas Updyke. But ye dassent ask me why I come. For though we’ve lived here in this valley nigh seventy year, boys together, and men together, this is the fust time in fortv wear gone that I’ve crossed this here doorsill. But it won’t be the last, Jonas, it won’t be the last, me boy.’ There was an unctious sneer in his voice that grated on every fibre of Jona’s being . “There wouldn’t be no tears shed, Squire, if ye wasn’t to come back no more. An’ as for crbssin my step in forty year, nobody knows bettern’ yer self how that happens.” The Squire opened his coat, adjust ed his collar, and began impressively, emphasizing his words by tapping on the table with a fat forefinger: “Jonas Updyke, let me ask ye a few questions. Maybe ye don’t remember —seein how old ye’re gettto-mebbe ye’ve forgotten Ann Elisa Wimble «,««■ iimui in this town as a girl some forty year back." He waited for rqpiy. Jonas nodded his head “The best girl that ever lived, peace to her aw es,” be replied reverently. “And mebbe ye don’t remember.” went on the Squire in a louder voice, “ttaet for nigh five year I was a vis itin’ Ann Elisa Wimble every Satur day night, and taktn "her to meet in ever Thursday evenin’ in good weattbr and aoin’ drivin’ with her, to say nothin of buyin’ her gum drops, an cologne, an sicb.” Again he paused, and again Jonas nodded, looking out of the window sadly, for Ann Elba had been his wife for forty years, and less than two years before be had buried her in the little village church yard. . The Squire’s voice rose in passionate climax. His gestures became emphat ic: ‘Mebbe ye rieeoUect, then, Jonas UpdyJse that ’bout that time yf V C -- CCl notice, Jonas. I've bought up ye’re notes, an' to-morrow when the sale comes off they’ll knock the old place down to me at my own figger. To morrow momln’ ye'll cook ye’re last breakfast in this house, Jonas. Mind ye that. I’ve been awaitin’ this mo ment for thirty year, ever since ye laid on the fust mortgage. It’s the sweet est day I ever drawed breath. Pack up ye’re duds, ye white-headed pup. It’s my turn now.” He dodged the heavy toe of Jonas’s boot and hastened down the graveled walk to his buggy at the gate. Jonas went back to the kitchen and cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Then he sat own with his pipe to think It over. The Squire’s words were no surprise. He knew that Barlow had bought up the notes; he knew that there was no hope for him after to morrow. He liad already packed his tew clothes In a grip, and was ready. To-morrow, before the sale could be gin, he would walk out and leave the old place, with all its memories, to its new owner. Jona’s nature was self-contained, and he did not show his emotions. Yet, as he wandered about the house, thinking of Eliza, he came very near to tears. It was all so lonesome and for lorn. The dust lay thick on the par lor table, something he had never known in the old days. His mind went back, as it had done a hundred times during the week, to “Sonny,” his son Bill,—and a great sob welled up in his throat If Billy were only there—but he put the thought reso lutely away. Billy waa not there: Billy was but a memory, and Ann Eliza was dead, and home was home no longer. Jonas was up long before dawn the next morning. As Squire Barlow had predicted, he cooked his last breakfast, and by sun-up he was ready to depart. He stepped out of the yard without a look back. The air was sharp with November frost, but he swung away down the road at a gait that set his heart pounding Joy ously. Over his shoulder, on a heavy tauc, uc vauicu xiio pci gnp-oava. In hia pocket was money—not so much to be-Uure, but enough to keep him for a month. And why worry beyond that, even at seventy- years of age? If you had asked Jonas whither he was bound be could not have told you, but be felt In his heart that he could make his way to one of the large cities and find work, for his spirit was yet young. It was his boast, admitted bj his neighbors, that he had not aged a day, in look or manner, in the past ten years. So he strode on with a light step, and for a week covered about twenty miles a day, putting uf at country hotels. The fresh air was like wine; the varying landscape was a delight. He lived again the days at aixty-three when he tramped up and down the State of Tennessee, fighting and being fought, day after day, through that terrible campaign. Have you ever thought, young man, what it means to be dubbed “old ami no good?” Have you an idea of the hopelessness of age when the only out look is continued need and reduced earning capacity? The truth came home strongly to Jonas when he began to seek work- There was no work for him. They wanted young men. He . was too old; he couldn’t stand the racket. And some were less gentle with the rebuff. Gradually his little fund dwindled, and at last he made his way by begging at farm bouses along the road. He found shelter in hayricks and bams, sneaking in after dark and leaving before dawn. Lack of food began to tell. The wrinkles deepened in his face; his eyes took on a hopeless expression; his gait was slower; his back began to bend. In a ! few weeks Jonas was an old, old man. And with weakness came the feeling of dependence. His pride melted. He wanted a strong arm about him. But there was only one in all the world on whom he might call—“Sonny.” And where was “Sonny" now? There was ample time for Jonas to regret the past As he plodded along the frozen road he recalled the occur rPTlf»PS nf ton VMM Wnm wtum “Sonny” had passed out of his life. On the boy’s shoulders had fallen the burden of the farm with its mortgage. Together they had worked, Bill doing the lion’s share, to raise the encum brance ; and when the money was al most in hand, Jonas had loaned it, against Billy’s earnest protest, to a friend on an unsecured note, at heavy interest. And when the friend failed, Billy saw the fruits of his labor swept away in a night. Was it any wonder, then, that he proposed giving up the farm and moving to the city? Were they to continue there, with noses to the eternal grindstone, merely eking out a living? The mother agreed faith in her son being deet* and abld ing; but Jonas said No, and when after months of argument, Billy an nounced his Intention of going alone Jonas rose in wrath and showed him the door, bidding him with a curse to “Go, and stay, and never show your face again.” Now, in his bitterness, weak and weary, Jonas sat down by the side of the road and wept quietly the first time In years. Oh, if he could only find “Sonny.” “Sonny” would forgive him. His heart went back to the old home; to the sorrowing mother, who had pined away grieving for her son. He did not know that on the day of his departure, Billy, prosperous and generous, having heard “tof the ap proaching Kile, had appeared before the astonished Squire Barlow and up set that individual’s prophecy by satis fying all demands and rendering the sale unnecessary; nor that for weeks Billy had been advertising all over the Bast for his father to come home. It was New Year’s eve. Jonas had been on the road over a month. With out knowing how, or, indeed, why, he nPAAAO/ln/1 atno/lilw aw**. the mountains, and now, as the bleak, winter day drew to a close, he was ap proaching the great city of Pittsburg. From afar he bad seen the heavy smoke lying low on the horizon. The road was lined with beautiful resi dences, and as dusk came on, lights appeared in the windows. There was warmth and cheer. Might not food and shelter be there too for an old man? He could not keep up much longer. His shoes were worn through. He was sick with hunger. In despera tion he followed the driveway of a palatial residence and made his way back to the stable. The hostlei came at him savagely. “Git. out o’ here,” he growled. “This ain’t no place for hoboes.” Jonas turned and went out again. He would not beg from a common stable-hand. He would push on to the city. As he passed the side of the house he glanced up at the roof and stopped suddenly. There was a glow in the attic window. The glass shivered and a gush of smoke and flame told him instantly that the house was on fire With quick steps he ran to the fronl and up on the broad porch. The dooi was locked, but he pounded on it witt his fists. “FIRE!” he shouted; and again, “FIRE! FIRE! The door opened suddenly, showing the white, scared face of a woman. “FIRE!” Youi house is on fire!” he cried, as he pushed past her Women screamed and children ran hither and thither. Hardly knowing why Jonas hurried up the broad stairs. As he turned into the upper hall s cloud of smoke enveloped him. He en tered the first room and ran to the window. Opening it, he shouted int< the still night air, “FIRE! FIRE!” He heard men’s voices, but as in a dream for the smoke was stifling him. He must get back or die, like a rat in s hole. As he groped his way he fel ugaiuBi a ueu. jv uuy vuictj oiaruei him. It was a baby, choking In tb< dense smoke. He reached out blindly his hands came npon the child strug gling beneath heavy coverings* Hi grabbed it up, dragging off the blan kets, and wrapping them around thi little one’s head and body. Somehow he reached the door, stag gered into the hall and found the stair way. As he started down he trippe< over the end of a blanket and rolle< down, down, over and over. His heac struck a sharp corner at the foot o the steps, and he lay still, the preclou bundle clasped in bis arms. An Immeasurable space of tlmi passed—then Jonas awoke slowly. Hi knew that be was warm, and that hi lay on a soft bed; but his eyes wen heavy and he could not lift the lids Then a familiar voice sounded in hi ears. “Father, father,” it said. Surel; that was “Sonny’s” voice, and be wai back in the old home, and it was tlmi to get up and milk the cows -. Hi struggled against the heavy sleep His eyes opened and looked up Inti Billy’s face. “Sonny, is it you?” hi asked, weakly. Where am 1, Sonny?1 "Yes, father, its me, Billy;” came thi strong, familiar voice. “Don’t yoi know me, father? I’ve been h untin; you everywhere* You’re right here a home, my home.” Slowly the truth dawned upon Mm He closed his eyes again, trying ti remember. “Sonny, there was a fire and—a-~*-haby—.” HAUNTED CASTLE OFKIMBOLTON The Queen of Eogland Stands God mother to American Baby. When Queen Alexandra stood as godmother to the son* and heir of the Duke of Manchester and his American wife, It was the first occasion on which this royal lady ever assumed respon sibility for the spiritual welfare of any child whose mother is a native of the United States. King Edward, while still Prince of Wales, accepted the sponsorship of quite a number of chil dren of Anglo-American unions. By the bye, the Duke of Manches ter is the present head of Drogo de Monte Acuto, who was a famous warrior in the immediate train of Rob ert, Earl of Moreton, at the time of the Norman conquest. Among his ances tral homes, rescued and restaurated with the aid of his American father-in law, Eugene Zimmerman, of Cincin nati, pre-eminent stands the tradition filled, assodlafion-h'aunted Kimbolton Castle. The castle is an ancient, stone building, standing at the bead of the DUCHESS OP MANCHESTER. Pen country, in a spacious, well-wood ed park, close to the town of Hunting don. Pour centuries ago it was the dower palace of Queen Katherine, of Arragon, after her divorce from Henry VIII. It would still appear to be the residence of her spirit, since her ghost, in long, queenly robe and royal crown, is said to roam its cor ridors even yet. The Castle, however, has another ghost, less dignified, per haps, but distinctly interesting in its habits. The portrait of Sir John Pop ham, erstwhile Lord Chief Justice of England, and one of the earliest pro moters of American colonization, hangs in the great hall, and its origi nal is said to keen a nightly vigil for rogues and poachers, accommodating himself, according to inclination and moonlight, by either sitting astride the park wall or secreting himself un der the shadow of the mighty elm trees. Probably the ghost of Sir John is an immense saving of gamekeepers’ salaries to the ducal purse. Lord Denbigh, who is well remem bered in this country from bis visit in Boston a few- years ago, at the head of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company of London, is the chief of the family to which the famous novelist, Henry Fielding, belonged. He likewise claims relationship with the imperial Austrian House of Hapsburg; this claim, however, being ridiculed by many eminent} English genealogists. He is lord-in-waiting to the King, and one of the forty Roman Catholic members of the Upper House of the English national assembly. The Bradley-Martins, it- is learned, have made several efforts to purchase Balmacaan outright, the magnificent place they occupy in Scotland. But, though they have frequently raised their figures to a fancy price, they cannot induce the owner to part with it The fact that they merely lease the place does not prevent them from spending a mint of money on it. It is now far more - luxuriously fitted up than Balmoral, the Scotch royal resi dence, and Mar Lodge, the Duchess, or rather, Princess of Fife’s place, pales into insignificance compared with it The Bradley-Martins have been so long in England that 'one almost for gets their rise to influence in the so t’mi nuiiu. xucuo w a ouvvooo riches—at least, so It would appear, and, In fact, such success makes small impression on the thoughtful. Yet, when yon look into it, you find many things that arouse your admiration. It Is no mean thing to make an en trance In the London world of fashion. It requires a deal of tact and knowl edge of men and women. The Earl dl Craven, tb^son-in-law of the Bradley Martins, passes most of his time look ing after his forty thousand acres, and in attending to his duties as county ! magistrate near his Warwickshire 1 home. Lady Craven is keenly inter ; os ted in poultry farming, and at ■ Coomtoe Abbey has bred birds -hat i have stirred up the keenest sort of ■ competition amongst English fancers. ! Moreover, it is agreed on ail hands that the boy-and-glrl marriage of 1888 . has turned out more pleasantly than the wiseacres of that date predicted. I And the Countess of Craven grows I prettier as she grows older. I Prince Nanzeta Pebassnez Monte F zuma, who claims to be the lineal de i seendant of the famous Aztec King-of that name, is a small, olive-skinned . youth, with large, heavily-fringed i gray eyes, a full, red month and long J hair. He wears civilian clothes, a . Vlvau*l UUU1CV* ovuiinciw, HUU ’ carries an interesting, carved cane. \ van Calava. i “Yes, father. It was right here- li f was our baby, and you saved It for us . The fire’s out There’s no danger. . And I’ve bought the old home, father, i and yOu can go back if you want, and i never work or want any more!” ’ But Jonas did not hear. A great i peace came Over him. He knew only i that “Sonny” held him; that “Sonny” > would take cate of him; that his tong ; Journey was at an end. Through the midnight air came the . sound of great bells. All over the city i the Joyous message was ringing—ring , tag in “Sonny’s” ears—that Jones had come home. FREE! LADIES THIS lamfsira For Scarf GIVEN AWAY Send os your name and address and we will send you free and post-paid 24 pieces of our leweiry novelties to sell at 10 cents each. Everybody you show them to will buy them of you. When sold send ns tbs $2.40 and we will at once send you this Handsome Fur Scarf It Is nearly 48 Inches long, made from black Lynx fur, baa six full, busby tabs, very latest style, and we know you will be mors than pleased with it. When you receive it we know you will say it Is the most elegant and thoroughly good fur you have ever seen. Nothing similar an this scarfbas ever before been offered as a premium; it will give years of satisfactory wear. It gives a stylish, dressy effect to the wearer's appearance. The only reason we can offer them Is we had a Urge number of them made wp for us by one of the large furriers during the summer when trade was quiet; this U the only reason we are able » slier such an expensive premium. We hope you will take advantage of our offer without delay. This la an extraordinary offer and cannot be duplicated by any other reliable concern. We trust you with our leweiry until sold. It costs you nothing to get this fur. Address, COLUMBIA NOVELTY CO., D«pt. 95ft, Cast Hosts**, Mass. Fabulous Cost of Solomon’a Tempt? Solomon’s Temple flourished before the days of modern “Graft,” but It may be wondered what became of all the jewels and precious stones, for the talents of gold, silver and brass used in the construction of the temple were valued at about thirty-five billions of dollars, and the jewels about the same, according to Villapandus. The conse crated vessels of gold amounted to two and three-quarter billions; of silver two and one-half billions; the vest ments and musical instruments to eleven and one-quarter millions. Tlysre were ten thousand men em ployed to hew timber, seven thou sand as burden carriers, twenty thou sand as hewers of stones, thirty-three hundred overseers, all of whom were employed for seven years and upon whom Solomon bestowed as a gift thirty millions of dollars. Adding the food and wages the total would be over four hundred and fifty millions of dollars. The costly stone and tim ber equalled twelve billion more and the whole total has been carefully estimated as $77,521,960,636. vrovh ana rurrvi rigau Adam Forepaugh, the veteran show man, had a white parrot which had learned to say, “One at a time, gentle men, don’t crush,” acquired, of course, from the ticket seller. One day the parrot got lost, and after a long search Mr. Forepaugh was overjoyed to hear its familiar voice from an adjoining cornfield. He dismounted from his boggy, en tered the cornfield and found the par rot In the middle of a flock of crows that had pecked him until he was al most featimrless. As the crows bit and nipped, the parrot, lying on bis side and defending himself with his daws, was repeating over and over, “One at a time, gentlemen, one at a time. Don’t crush.” Colorado's Fine Capitol. The State Capitol of Colorado was erected at a cost of $3,600,000 and is constructed entirely of Colorado ma terial. The exterior is of selected gray granite and the interior of polished marble and onyx. It Btands in the cen ter of a ten-acre tract and required about ten years to complete. "It is reported that our comer drug gist is about to fail.” "Goods a drug on the market, ehT* I PHOTOGRAPHERS I Throw Your Bottles and Scales Away _ * ! 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It will mean much to you to get our free booklet. It will place you under no obligation whatever to us *f you newer write again. You and your friends should know of this work. Hundreds of our pupils write: “Wish I had known of your school before." “Haws learned more in ore . term in my home with your weekly lessons than In three terms with private teachers, and at a great deal less expense." “Everything is so thorough and complete” “The lessons are marvels of simplicity, and my 11-veer old boy has not bad the least trouble to learn." One minister .writes: “As each succeeding lesson comes 1 am more and more fully persuaded I made no mistake in becoming your pupil" We have been established seven years—have hundreds of pupils from eight years of age to seventy. Don’t say you cannot learn music till you send far our free booklet and tuition offer. It will be sent by return mail free, Addrass V. & SCHOOL OF MUSIC. 16 Union Square. New York City.