Newspaper Page Text
Thoms and Orange Blossoms.
BV THE AUTHOR OF romance of a young girl. Continued. “It needed only for nw to see you once to know that 1 had met my fate, ho cried. Love conics to us In varied guise, I saw you, and my heart went out to you at. once. Something that had never lived In my soul before awoke into vigorous life. If 1 had known you fifty years 1 could not love you better. You are the fairest and most beautiful woman that ever glad dened i man's eyes, that ever wiled a : 1 ' 1 love you. If I had a thousand tongues they would all cry out, 'I love you, I love you!’ ” “Hush!" she raid, holding up one lit tie hand. “You—you frighten me!” “I frighten you!” exclaimed Lord Ityvers. “Ah, how unfit lam even to talk to one so beautiful, so gentle as you! Forgive me, and I will be as gentle as yourself. I only want to Impress on you the fact that I love you, that while I live I can never again he happy away from you, that I would give my life and all It holds for you. Oh, sweet, If you could only know how beautiful you look standing there, you would not wonder that I love you so! You have never hail an admirer, have you?” "An admirer!" she repeated, half trembling, half delighted. "I hardly know what you mean.” "Look at me.” he cried —“I am your admirer—your lover. It means a man mad for a time, who sees, hears,j knows, thinks of nothing but the one! beloved.” "That must be tiresome," she an-1 swei'i’d, naively. “I should not like to have all my thoughts and ideas con centrated on one person.” “You would if you loved him; that makes all the difference, yon seo.” “Love and admiration have been a sealed hook to me,” she said. "In deed, I have never thought of them.” "Yet love Is the very life of a wom an,” he cried, incredulously. "It has not been mine," she said. “Hark! What is that?” —for there] was a sudden commotion in one of tho tall lime-trees near them. “Probably n little bird had fallen from It nest,” Lord Uyvers answered, smiling, for she was alarmed and clung to him. He caught the little white hands In his own. and held them fast. "I thought 11 was my aunt,” she said, half laughing, half trembling. Never mind If it were. 1 would go to her If you would let me, and would tell her that her niece was the love liest creature 1 had over seen, that 1 loved her with my whole heart and longed to make her my wife.” "I should be locked up In the dark est cellar the house boasts, and never allowed to come out again," Violet de dared, a little hysterically. “I wonder,” he said, gently, still holding the two little white hands In his own- -“I wonder If you would ue very angry if I called you Violet?" “It would not he much use to be angry about anything now," she said, "Then I may. Oh, beautiful Violet.; listen to me! I love you with all my heart: will you try to love me a little In return?" Shi> wus silent. It was all so novel for her. Then she looked up at him with frank i hlldlike eyes "Von have taken me so by surprise," she said. "Have yon not thought of me at all?” he asked, • Yes; but only as a nice, pleasant friend, different from every om else here In being of my own age.” He was silent for a few minutes; I then lie said with a thrill of passion In his voice: “Von must do more than that now. I Vioht. 1 must be more than the pleasant friend whom you like becausei he Is of your own age. Think of me.! sweet, as a lover who loves you with! mu h passionate devotion that he I would die for you: the lover who hasj no joy, no happiness, but with you." \ "It sounds unite poetical," she said. ! "it I -true'" he cried, vehemently.■ "Oh. >vs Violet, how hard if is to make: you understand' My darling, 1 knew when you spoke to me hi the woods; that da> that you were simple us a child. You reminded me of a beauti-| fill wil.i bird, sn bright and free, and now I want to catch the wild bird and keep it as my own forever " ”1 suppose that, really, if (tie truth were told, ! did wrong in answering your questions " she oil half ruefully. I "You could nut do anything wrong 1 am sun." he declared "Tell me," h i ontinued, aft* r a pan e if 1 had gone away without Be, ing you again, without saying good-by, would you have cared, would you have been tin happy, would you have remembered: me She thought over his questions be fore - he ansa ered them. I should have been very sorry, but not unhappy,' she replied. "I should not have forgotten you. and I am glad, honestly glad, to see you again " His fan- 1 jhtetied , h" gazed on tu r fair, shy loveliness ‘‘Thank you for so much," he Bald. "I will (■ id; yon tie r.-st ; that is the beginning: the rest will come You are glad to s. • lie- Heaven bless you'" He bent down and k* •• el the fa! hands that lay so elii'l and q q. t in his own. And the first rare: sever THE TRIBUNE, MINERAL POINT, WI&, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1900. given to her stirred the maiden depths of her heart and soul as a p * 'c thrown Into a deep lake disturbs its sc- r If Aunt Alice could hut h.. e f ..,i that. Violet shuddered as the thought passed through her mind, an ! he thought that :he was vexed at his Oh, Violet, if you would, if you could but learn to love me a little! he said. “Love wins love. Will you try?" “I might try,” she whispered: ‘ but 1 am not at all sure that I should suc ceed.” "I shall be quite content at present If you will try. You have no other ad mirer, and you love no one else. 1 see no reason, my darling, why I should not win you in time. I will live for you; I will love you so well, so dearly, that you shall not be able to help lov ing me. lam happier than 1 dared hope; I am happier than 1 deserve to ho. You might have sent me away: you have listened, and you will love me In time, and. Violet, I have been talking to you all this time, and. Violet, 1 have not seen your eyes. Raise them to mine, sweetheart, that I may see what they say.” Slowly enough the white lids moved, the long fringed lashes were raised, and the dark, violet eyes looked sadly into his. "What beautiful eyes!” he cried. "And they tell me that you love mo a litt . Is it true?” Ills own W'-re so full of passionate adoration that hers fell before them. "I am frightened,” she said, with a shudder. "My heart beats. Oh, let nir -un aw >: I must not stay here’. What have you done to me? It is as though my heart and soul wore stir red with mingled pleasure and pain.” She tried to draw away the little white hands; but he would not release the, . "My li. autTul sweetheart, listen to me.” But she interrupted him. i am not your sweetheart. You must not use that word to me.” “That Is just the question,” he said. "V. 1 you be my sweetheart? I will more jn.t yet; consent toj that, ami I shall he the happiest man in the wide world. My sweetheart, | rn} autifnl, m ntle, graceful sweet ' heart, will you? If you do not like me. you van bid me depart; but. If you | 1 arn to lev • m , you will make this 1 earth paradise to me.” She was frightened, startled; but her heart del not heat with rapture, | nor were here lips mute with the glad surprise t! t carats to most young girls when their lover spt aks. Think for a few minutes, and then tiiswi nv.” Lord Ryvers went on, "and remember it Is not a man’s fancy. l ut a man’s life, that hangs on the ’ui '!. Ido not wish to influence you unduly but. If you say me nay. I hall (ling myself away us one flings wo thi as weed. Oh, Violet, is your h ait cold to me; are your eyes blind,; your lips dumb? I stand here before! you, my heart in my words, my life in' your h, nil , Now toll me; will you be 1 my sweetheart?” I He threw his arms around her with a caressing gesture, as though he would protect h r from everything hurtful. • I I it v..i this gesture of his, this half ■ ■> i ■ that ♦onched Imc heart. Bay ’yes,’ Violet. You shall never : repent It.’’ her lover pleaded, passion 1 ably. "Von do not Know wh. t l;f• r.,,j I will teach you. Op m your pure) young heart to the Influence of lov • Yi’h ■ : that one won! to m , Viol •t,” 1 He h> rt his handsome h nd to catch; the faint sound. She thought for a 1 few minutes, then she answered:! Yes” I CHAPTER VIII. Von have Bold a picture. Randolph, I am sui' l " was the greeting I.ord Uy ■'•■vs received ono morning. when he saw Violet coming from the Hill farm. He often went to the HIM farm now, for Mi- Mhertou had caught a violent • old. which had caused her to relax lo r vigilance and send her beautiful niece out in her stead- not for long lame:, s for her own pleasure, that was plainly understood, hut It was ne< . -arj for her to go to Warwick o:n e or twice in the wee':, and also to t ■ Hill Farm on little matters of bus ■ and though it struck Miss Ath erton more than once that he, niece wis long lime absent, she never dr. cine of the cause. ' n. Ky era had made himself quite and hone- at the Hill Farm; the farmer Ids luixom wife knew him as a young artist who admired the quiet sylvan "■ms y of tin- neighborhood. Miss Ilea to" ■ r i-'e aev-r passed his lips, but by a teit understanding the ood natun ! n ties,, of the farm al ways mentioned in his presence -quite .evidently, to all appearance when Miss Heaton was com in.; mx-r ad dressing herself pointedly to him. hut always t- some bystander. It happen ed that Violet saw him every day. He |wa xi, nth with her. He seemed to he content with the victory he had Mined that cueing w hell she had whisi’ -ii •! her consent to be his sweet i heart He would walk hv h<-r side and hold h- r b-.ud in a!o, •, : goring clasp, but ho ncv r start’- and la r more xxith pas ■ 1 innate words and atosses He was too wise and too intent on winning her. On this particular morning It wa? ibout half way between the farm and Acada Cottage that they had met when she greeted him with the words — "You have sold a picture, Randolph, ! cm sure.” “What makes you say so?” he asked. “You know. Oh. Randolph, how you lovi mystery, and how 1 hate If You know what I found In my canary’s age this morning—only this morn ing and }he beautiful eyes were turn i lo him with mingled pleasure and v%(.rule-. “What a place to put a pack * in’ she continued. “Suppose m.' .unt had gone to the cage the first thing this morning to feed the bird?” I Knew she would not. From the i la unit tree in the field I can see all that pa cs in you: garden. Every r< ornlnt I see you going to feed you: bird after you have hung Its cage up in the porch.” “I believe that you know everything I do and sav," she replied, laughing and blushing. “Oh, Randolph: how beautiful It la!” That morning, on going to feed her anary, Violet found a little parcel in the i age. It was addressed to “My beautiful sweetheart,” and she knew at om e that Randolph had climbed the garden wall, and had placed It there for her. Opening It, she found a dia mond ring, and though she knew lit tie of jewels, she felt that it must have cost a large sura. She had at once jumped to the conclusion that, to buy this for her artist-lover must have ■obi a picture, perhaps at. a great sacrl flee, How dearly he loved her! And her heart reproached her that she did not love him more. He looked delight ed when she praised his present. ‘T am so glad you are pleased with it’.” he said. "Have you put It on?” ‘■Randolph, a diamond ring! What would my aunt say? No; I have lock ed It up in my drawer.” “Will you let me put it on you? he asked. "Some day, perhaps,” she replied; “but not yet—not yet, Randolph." ”1 am very patient, Violet; I would vi It all my life for you rather than lose you. Sweetheart, it was the Sec ond of June when I first saw you, and the harvest moon will be shining.” “You said you would be content if I would be your sweetheart,” she said, half reproachfully, half in surprise, and I have been your sweetheart nil these weeks, Randolph. What more do you want?” "What more?” And he looked at !■ :• in surpri "Everything. Violet Hut tell me why you think I have sold i picture.” “Because that ring must have cost so much money.” “I see!” he cried. ‘Do not be dis til 1 thont the money, Violet. 1 a sure you that I have not sold one of my pictures, and that I had the money by me; I had my dear. Indeed.” fald, her < yes brightening. All my life I have longed for a beautiful ring. 'I shines Randolph, as though a myrl i! inbi ams were concentrated in H.‘ “Vo'4 are not mercenary,” ho said. ■ lOh. Randolph, w hat a terrible idea' I mercenary,” she said. “I was thinking,” he interrupted, (hat you would not enjoy anything that you thought had cost any one else a i rifice. If you thought I had sold a picture to buy that ring, you would not care for it.” T should not care for it so much,” she replied. “1 have heard my aunt speak of diamonds; I know how valu able they are. 1 never thought 1 houM have a diamond ring.” "Otic of these nights, when the moon Is shining, you will let me come and put it on for you. will you not? We have been sweethearts now for many weeks. Are you so content, Violet, that von wish for no more ” •'ll Is very nice,” she replied, care lessly 'it Is quite new for mo to have one who admires me, and says pretty things to me, who gives me b mutiful presents and makes life more brivht and cheerful for me. I urn not sure that I want more.” ' Now, Violi t. stand still how quick ly yo . are walking, ray darling, this mo tand -till a moment, look li.'o the very depths of your heart, and tel) ne would you like always to live in tills fashion, to be no nearer and d'-arer to me than you are now,” ■She stood still and looked at him thoughtfully. What !oes your heart say. Violet?" he asked. It says nothing,” she replied. ‘T am very happy." Have you no longing to be with me always?” ho asked. 1 boul 1 like to see more of you,” she replied, "certainly." When 1 am away from you, you do not count the hours and minutes un til I return?” 'No but I am pleased when you come back." "Op. beautiful statue, when will you wake into life?" he cried. "When will '■> ,r he of and soul tie stirred within you* Von have none of the love that burns my heart away. How shall I t< ach you ’ When will one spark of tie- divine Are' come to you? What i ?' I in to make you love me?" I do love yon,” she said; but there was no girlish flush on her face, no tuvi-itght in her f yea. To be continued. A Boast Fulfilled. Jii.-t " Ui'li me," said the grasshop- Preparing for a flight: I fcl so vigorous today. I’ll jump clear out of sight!" I watched him as he rose in air. He kept his word, no doubt. Per ’own he ante into a stream Where lived a hungry trout Tu b e .1 -;. s in St Nicholas Smoking Away Fortunes. Unique Designs That Go to Make Up a Connoisseur's Room. The men who know a good cigai when they smoke it, have not been de terred tiy the increase in the price of tobacco from reveling in their favorite perfectos. And to the every-day moker, that Is. the man who smoko* two or three cigars for a quarter, or he ho revels in a nickel smoke, or even he who finds his ideal In a Pittsburg stogy, the prices paid by the real con noisseur are, of course, astonishing. There Is a newspaper proprietor in New York who will pay almost any price for a perfect, mild cigar. In fact, at one time he had a thousand cigars specially selected for him In Havana, and willingly paid SBOO for the lot. An elghty-cent after-dinner smoko is the usual thing with him. Former Senator Brice was another connoisseur, and he went the newspa per proprietor several better by pay . : y"' I’XIOUE ACCKSSORIKS FOR A SMOKER'S Dl'.X. ng $1,200 for a thousand cigars, 'here is nothing peculiar about these high-priced cigars except, perhaps, in ihe fancy packing and the extremely careful selection. To the taste of the ordinary smoker they are no better than a good twenty-flve-cent cigar. Terrell, the sugar magnate, has paid as high a- 11.000 for a thousand cigars. The importers who make a specialty of handling the finest cigars in the market find the clubs their best cus 1 t.oners, and the brands that sell ver> extensively are those costing all th way from $2OO to $5OO a thousand. The man-oMeisure who enjoys a inlet smoke in his own home, far way from business and club asaoci- i atlons, generally manages to aurroun i himself with accessories that r-M to] the luxury of these after-dinner occ; ■ no New 1 has had a bear set up as a dumb-wait er, carrying in one hand, or rather paw, an electric lamp with frosted globe, and in the other a tray with a couple of boxes of cigars and some pa per pipe-lights in a liquor glass. An Englishman, now living in Now* York, ha had the foot of a big ele phant fashioned into a cigar and liquor -land, so that It may be placed on the table in the midst of a group in remln ent rood. Nlmrods who may, per ’.ar.ee. he fighting their battles over igain The foot is that of an Indian , elephant- a magnificent beast —shot by the then duke of Edinburgh, during a well-known lou r . Dr. W. J. O'Sullivan, the well-known medicolegal expert, has a most unique smoking-room in New York. The en trance door is flanked by two grinning skeletons. These hideous twins have, each of them, a history. Indeed, all the doctor’s relics of this kind have histories. T cannot tell you whose cadavers these are,” said the doctor, with a sly smile. If I did the authorities might not like it. But 1 will own that the skeleton on the right is that of a no torious murderer: while its companion once formed the framework of a blood thirsty western desperado, who paid the penalty of his hundred crimes on the gallows. See this dinge on his' frontal bone? That was made by aj bullet, fired as he swung from the I fatal tree.” If any one enters the doctor’s smok ing-room he will he startled to find peering from over the mirror there a hideous skull, while two flesh legs hands clasp candlesticks on either side. The natural loathsomeness of these relics of mortality is, however, greatly dlspeued by the fact that ttu skull wears a Turkish fez perched rakishly over its forehead, while a cigarette is thrust between the lank digits of one hand The skull is that of a celebrated burglar; and the hands th, t were once quite pretty are cov ered with jewels. Lewis f>. Tewksbury, the well-known banker, has a smoking-room filled with tapestries, paintings, rare china, quaint and curious things, and one of the most strking features is an ex quislte fountain, which tosses per fumed water in fantastic jets, and which is transformed into an electric fountain at will, like those lovely ones in the court of honor at the world's fair. J Clarence Harvey, a New York' bachelor of prominence, has a unique! itnoking-room. Little Turkish tables! of white and gold, of black enamel and | inlaid wood, are scattered profusely j about and hold coffee cups, a tea "lay out.” an opium ditto (w hich in justice j to the host it must be said is never used>, cigars and cigarettes. Turkish pip. s. and all manner of thing- Mr. Harvey, who Is a sort of Admiral!* Crichton In his way, smokes the fi t , , brands. f < Paddling 3,000 Miles. Somewhere down along the Atlant coast Is a big birch bark canoe. p’ s occupied and paddled by two Iml .■ chiefs. The leader Is old Big Thun . - head chief of the Penobscot tribe, w. owns Old Town Island In Maine. Pic Thunder Is nearly SO years old, but he is still a giant in stature and in strength. Early this srping the old chief made up his mind that before he died he would like to visit the Greu 1 White Father at his big wigwam m Washington. Accordingly, a huge birch canoe was built for the u .p, an i several weeks ago Big Thunder, whose other name is Prank Boring, and a minor chief, Peter Nicola, started down the Penobscot river to the sea. From the mouth of the river they intend to paddle down the coast to the Potomn and thence up to Washington. The trip they have undertaken is a trifle ove>- 3,000 miles long, and they intend to take their time about it. The canoe has already been sold to a man in Washington, who will pay the Indians SI,OOO for it, with the idea of present ing it to the Smithsonian Institution The two Indians will live on the fish they may be able to catch on the way, and both expect to pay their respects to President McKinley in the white house. Duchess in Pro.-pect. Neither the penniless duke of Man chester nor the rich and beautiful Miss Helena Zimmerman of Cincinnati, will discuss the reported engagement of marriage between them. Their silence is generally taken to give assent to the story. Miss Zimmerman, who is the daughter of Kugene Zimmerman of Cincinnati is worth $1,000,000, and it is expected that she will eventually in herit eight or ten millions more from the estate of her father. Mr. Zimmer man’s money was made as a railroad contractor and in promoting and con trolling street railway corporations. Miss Zimmerman spent last winter m England, and created something of a furor 1- ' in society. On her return to this country she was followed across the water by M. Carle Johnstone, who is chiefly known as private secretary to the duke of Manchester. It develops 1 tiiat Mr. Johnstone came to plead his own cause rather than that of his em ployer and he got short notice. Eugene Zimmerman forbade him his house, and the discomfited young Englishman w r ent back across the water without a rich wife. Just what are Mr. Zimmer man’s opinions on the proposed match between Miss Helena and the noble duke have not been made public. Tien-Tsin. Tien-tsin is really two cities—the native walled city and the foreign quarter outside the wails. Its Chinese population is over 950,- 000, and by its position on the Peiho river it has a great commerce and is the key to Peking. About 40,000 Chinese troops and boxers hold the walled city or positions of vantage in the environs. Cannon placed on the walls have con tinuously bombarded the foreign quar ter since July ", destroying many build ings. Cp to July 12 about 10,000 allies un der Vice Admiral Seymour held the foreign quarter, but their lines, had been steadily pushed back by the Chinese. On the 12th the Ninth United States infantry, 1,400 strong, and a force of Russians and Japanese reached Tien ’ Alp. bringing up the allied force to 20,000 men. On the 12th 7,000 allies attacked the wailed city in order to destroy the guns and drive out the Chinese. The Chinese under General Niah and General Nieh had many rapid-fire guns and repulsed the allies Failure to carry the walled cities will necessitate the retreat of the al lies to Taku and lead to the rousing of all China in triumph, and probably to outbreaks all over the country. All women and children and male noncomhatants have been sent from Tien-Tsln for safe*y. They numbered about 1,050 persons. Tag the Babies. Chicago has evolved an Idea. The police of that breezy city are stren uously endeavoring to impress upon mothers that no child should be al lowed to go out of doors without an identif. alion badge sewed somewhere on itthclothing. The idea might be adopted with advantage in other cities Scarcely a day passes in any large city on which at least several children are not lost. The family starts on a frantic search and generally wastes hours before applying for police aid. while the child may be crying sotnc where in a police station. If the ider. tifli atlon badge with name and address was on the child the policeman would have taken It home long before and saved much worry. The new census flguret at Joliet. 111., show that through some error the convicts of the penitentiary. lin number, had been made part of the city’s population. The sailors who participated In the destruction of Admiral Cerrera’s fleet off Santiago, July 3. 1898, have not yet received their prize money.