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ROMANCE OF THE RANGE.
■he’s btn out here a-teachln’ tar this win ter now a-past. An’ l hi ar that she's a-tcllin* that this winter is her last— E*ha> she's goln' to quit the schoolroom an' goln' home to stay— An’ somehow I'm ja* hatin' ter to see her go away. Fer us fellers think that schoolmarm Is an angel; yes w* do. A little blur-eyed angel, yit a woman thro* an’ thro’; An* she treats us all so kindly. Jes* th' same most ev'ry day. An' somehow I'm Jes hatin' fer to see her go away. ■he hatn’t never give m« reasons fer to think I'd have a show To win her. but I'm honest when I say I 'ike her so That I dread her time ler goln.’, count ev'ry passln' day. 'Cause I'm hatin', Jes’ a hatin', fer to see her go away. Well, her term Is 'bout completed, an*, say. I don’t think I Have got th* nerve to greet her an' to say « last good-by; Seem* so tough! Oh. well. I'm fewlln*— call It heartsick. If you may— An’ 1 m hatin'. Jes" a-hatln, fer to see her go away. I^ATER. Oh. say. I m 'bout as happy as a feller w-ants to be; Went to see her an', by Jimmy, she jes' upped an' cried—you see •light there 1 had to say It. what so long I've feered to say. An' now we've went an' llxod It so she'll never go away. •-Chicago livening Post. Copyright. 1S99, by J. R. Llpplncott Com pany. All rights reserved. CHAPTER XV. Xol. Richard Somers dismounted and took refuge upon the veranda of a little cottage that fronted a cross road near Mechauicsville while his ar tillery thundered by and unlimbcred in position to face the enemy. Men, horses and officers were worn out with fatigue and hard fighting and eager lor an opportunity to snatch a few hours of rest. The two grent armies had entered upon the memorable •e'ven days* fight which was to swing ground Richmond and leave a bloody $>ath to Malvern Hill. The cottage •coined deserted, but presently an • ged negress made her appearance • from somewhere and pathetically at tempted to extend its hospitalities to the officers who began to swarm into the yard. Clinging to her skirts was a little girl of six or seven years, whose fair complexion, blue eyes and •ilken euvls bespoke a patrician par entage, 1 whose frail figure and in ccivsant cough gave evidence of a fatal weakness. "Her ma is done dead, sah.” said the old woman, respectfully, when Col. Fomcrs hurriedly questioned her eon -corning the family, “an* her pa left *fo’ you-all come; done come yistiddy an’ go right back to town. He don’t stay hyar anyhow.” ‘‘But that child must not remain "here; she is in danger every moment. "You must move out!” “Whey we goih’ move, sah? Don’t know nobody any better off’n we are Toun’ liyah. Mnrster tell me to stay Tight hyah. an’ I goin’ ter stay hyah. better tek yo’ folks an’ move on. sah, whey you started.” SoincTs had other ■things to think about, and turned *• wav. Very likely the movement next day would carry them beyond the cot tage, and the danger was not press fng at the moment. In the morning the child might he sent to the rear If necessary, and to-night he rather welcomed the adjuncts of refined life. He had use for the old woman, for lie was but recently out. of hospital • nd somewhat spoiled by nursing. He made himself and officers comfort able in the best rooms after the man ner of old campaigners and prepared for the short rest which he so much needed. 8omers had made the necessary dis position* and. left alone upon the porch for a moment, his thoughts reverted to ♦ he cherished memento in his locket, the worldless message of love which bad so mysteriously reached him. It was just one slender curl—the eurl ♦ hat had touched hischeek. he was sure, • nd with it a name. They w ere enough; no words could have summoned up more vividly the scenes of that dark ened wing-room, nor have told him more eloquently that within the ex <*tted city there was one heart which be M no hatred for him. It was no hour for dreaming and he roused himself to the present. Around him were eon tending hosts of doomed men, the spir it of war hovered over the rude ramps, • nd death lurked in the shadows, eager for h's harvest. From the distance, the echoes of dropping shots came faintly to the car. and presently what seemed ♦ o he a small volley. This volley claimed his attention and that of the Junior officers, and he had ordered a •ergeant up to inquire as to the cause, when rhe Bound of rapid hoof-beats ap proached upon the road, and in the dim light a» he waited a frightened horse, pursued by half a dozen troopers. s|Wd hr. Presently the men returned lead ing ‘he captured animal and tarrying it* late rider. The latter w as > outhful • nd clad in confederate gray, which wa* drenched with blood and covered with dust; for the wounded rider, •dinging desperately to the mane of the horse as he lav extended upon it* neck, had finally fallen and been dragged until the weight stopped the runaway . The face of the unfortunate fe Jow had escaped, and so young and •o fair was i», even the hardened sol dier* were touched. “He insists upon seeing an officer.” «w«td one of them. “Claims to have le an* ts to tell." “Place him upon the porch and rail a nwrgeoB. Where did he come from?” wu atraogeljr affected. “Don’t know. sir. He came riding headlong through the rebel pickets. I think, and they shot him. We didn’t shoot at all. for at first the horse seemed to be loose, and w hen v» e did see the young fellow on him. we knew he was too near gone to escape. We had ordersagainst unnecessary alarms, and so we ran him down.” ’l’he surgeon came and laid open the jacket of the now unconscious sufferer. He waved back the curious group and motioned for Somers to approach. "A woman!" he whispered. “Is it possible! To my room—to mv room!” The rough soldiers again lift ed the frail form tenderly and placed it upon the bed inside. A hurried ex amination disclosed the wound; a shot from behind had passed entirely through the body. “She cannot live.” said the surgeon, gently, as he arose and covered up the white form. “There is not the slight est chance for her.” The sentence of death seemed to inspire her w ith a sud den consciousness. She opened her eyes widely, and they rested in wonder upon the blue uniforms and strange faces. “What has happened?” she asked, weakly. “Where am 1?” “You have been wounded, madam,” said the surgeon, “badly wounded; but you are in friendly hands.” “Ah!—Raymond—told me—that he had—had arranged with the picket— to pretend only to fire—oh.thr\ have— killed me!” She shuddered, but with sudden return of full consciousness she cried aloud: “My papers!—they are valuable!—where are they?" “We have none, madam ” “Oh, (Jod! — what agony!—oh. sirs, I suffer, I suffer so—!’* “Drink this.*' said the surgeon, plac ing a glass of stimulant to her lips; “more if you can; it will sustain you.” “In the saddle pockets—my papers!” Her eyes closed in exhaust ion. A young officer who was sent to tind tho docu ments eainc back quickly : “Saddle trailing underneath; pock et* empty." She heard him and un derstood. “Lost.! Then—I, too--am lost. Ray mond!—Raymond!” She turned her f*»ce away and wept silently. “Gentlemen,” said Kiehard Somers, hoarsely, “will you leave us? I know this unfortunate woman.” He was instantly the focus of wondering eves, but for a moment only. The little group saluted in silence and with drew. “Louise!" he said, sadly, standing by her side. The eyes of the woman were fixed on him as he sought to control liis voice. “Who spoke—who called Louise?” “It was I—" “Diehard! ” es; sadder, older—but Diehard* still, tiod knows I speak the truth when 1 say 1 have nothing in my heart for you but the tonderest sympathy.” Her eyes clung to his fact* through the spasm of pain that twisted her body and drew the beautiful mouth into a thin line of scarlet. "How may 1 help you? 1 wculd help you?—Louise, if 1 might.” " I ell me—upon your miuI'x honor— is*—is—it—death?” He covered his eyes and stood si lent. She waited in agony; he did not answer her. “Death!" she said, in horror. “Help me! help me, Richard!” Sobs shook her. and she stretched out her hand to him as one who is drowning, A cry burst from the lips of the manly soldier, a cry no less agonized than hers. “Louise! I/ouise!— I would give my life to help you! Don’t speak, don’t look at me that way!" on must help me—you must! Quick—let me whisper! He will ‘LOUISE!*’ HE 8AID. 8ADT.T. 8TANI> INU BY HER 8IDB. come—he won't refuse now! He wan to come soon! The marriage — must must l»c fulfilled! Bring him bring him—to me* Bring mv child!” J "Impossible, Iconise,” he cried. ”\ou do not know what you are wiv ing. He is beyond the enemy's lines!” Ah but but he is- coming! Wa ter—water!"—he placed the drink quickly to her lip* “coming. Rich ard. Bring him f am living tell him—1 am dying—I—Louise dying! Nanon! Nanon!" 1 am a soldier,” he said, "sworn in my country's defense. My Jife be longs to my country not tcrmyself. No one would give me permission to go on such an errand. And if I were captured I should die as the spy dies!” “Richard — you and I—are—in (iod'i presence!" "Yes; in the presence of God!" “Would . iie -oh, would—I 11*— now ?” "No." Knee! here—J shall tell you now! I swear in Hi* presence I have lored no man in life -hut you but you!” Hush. he whispered, chilled and shocked, seeking to release hia hand.. ‘•Believe, oh. belie*« mel” “I cannot!” * “Be lie v* l" *T cannot—1 wouid if—"* “Believe—believe me—Richard.” Her hands tore feebly at a slender chain that had slipped down into her bo»> om. and drew a little locket into view. He recognised it. **I believe yon,” he said, gently, at length. And he did; he had never doubted it in hie heart. “it is the last prayer of the worn* An—who in all these years—of suf fering— shame—has loved you! (Jo to him! He will come—my child's —save the child for—her mother's sake! I.et me see her!” The soldier had faced every danger of the battlefield without a tremor. In the presence of this woman's awful agony his heart failed him. “The lost papers-—duplicates—duplicates! Rich mond is yours—Lee's army—de stroyed!” He stood up then, and was cool, his eyes reading her pale face as an open book. He turned to the door. “Surgeon.” he said, “come to this poor girl. Louise. I will return.” He rode to headquarters and laid before his chief all the fact*. A long dis cussion followed. “It is a desperate venture, general, and If I fall—death! I know that. But if I succeed, it may mean life for many a man in this army. Still, Ie-t me be frank; I shall go not for that alone.” “The decision is with you. colonel. M.v advice is against your plan. And yet—if that information opened the road to Richmond—it would mean (Jen. Somers.” ”1 have your permission?” There was no answer. “I shall start in .10 minutes, then,” said Somers. The general gave his hand in silence and turned away. “Avoid capture.” he said, sadly. Day by day familiar faces were pass ing from him. “I shall not be captured. If It comes, it will be a soldier’s death," was the reply. He reentered the pres ence of Louise clad in the uniform of a confederate captain. The old ne gress was with her. and, hat in hand, a young man, her son, was delivering a message to her. isomers caught enough of the word* to gather that he came from Richmond. “How did you pass through the lines?” he asked, abruptly. The ne gro grinned and was silent. “Can you guide me through—quick, man, speak.” The negro looked at the uniform. “\es, sah. Hut It's er long ways now'—an’ through the swamp, too.” “Louise, for your sake ami the child's I fchall try. If I return no more—it will be because I—have failed!” “Come-—to me. Rickard—kneel. And now. God—bless you. ’Tis a sinful woman's prayer—but He will hear— even me. a murderess!” “Murderess! Louise!" “I tried to kill him tried to end it! I fired to kill in my despair—it was the wrong man. 1 saw dimly— through the blinds—another woman’s room—under the light of a match °nly—and I killed him—an innocent man!” “Louise—in Richmond—through the blind»—a year ago?" “Ah. you heard of it?” “I was the man.” “It cannot be!” “It. was n wing-room. She was kneeling before me. and the bullet, struck here!* lfc drew aside his hair and rested his linger upon a white spot. “Mrodnar—” “God is comforting me," she whis pered. “The rest will come.” Tears streamed down her cheeks from her closed lids. SomeTs chose the mo ment to leave her. "Keep her alive until morning," he said, to the surgeon. "I will come then -or not at all." And then to the negro: “Xowr. my boy, $100 in gold if you guide me safely into Richmond and back. Will yon need a horse?” The negro shook his head. "No horse can cross whur I gointrr go.” He led away briskly into the Chickahominy swamp. and when Richard Somers found the stars again he was within the lines of his ene my with the Richmond lights in sight. Not until then did he remem ber that he had no knowledge of Ray mond Holbin's wherealKnits. H« stopped, amazed that he had failed in this vital matter. “Do you know Mr. Holbin in Rich mond." he asked of the negro, "Mr. Raymond Holbin?" "Yes, s.ih, 'course I know him. Wi all b’longs to es ma." "What! Then that house back yon der! Whose is that?" "Dat’s his house, sah, I reck'n. Don’t nobody come out but him. to see es lit tle gal." "His girl! Her name—what is her name?" "(alls 'er (‘hlcky most generally. Sometimes he called ’er Nanon." Som ers stopped then and stood with his face toward the stars in breathless reverie a few moments. "My boy," he said, "you saw the woman who wa* shot?" "Yes. sah.” "She is dying; that is her child snd she does not know it. Here is all the money I have with me; it is your* if you will go back with all jour might and tell her about the child. Do this, my bo>, a nr! (Jod will bless you." "How joii gointrr get back, marl ter?" "That doesn't matter! go! go! Here is your money—be quick now!" ‘ Bring it along wid you, marster." The negro vanished as a shadow with in a shadow. “And now, Ionise," said the soldier, as he plunged on into the city, “(»od is comffwting you!” Ho far as the ehanr-e of detection was concerned, Richard Homers was as •wife on the streets of Richmond that night as in his own camp; but he re alized that perhaps be bar] a difficult task before him to And Raymond Hoi bin. And if he found him. what then? I The city was ia a turmoil. Excited men and women crowded tha ftreMa and wounded soldiers were on every side. There was to be little sleep that night in Richmond or in the next five to come, for the fate of the city hung in the balance during the seven days’ battle. Somers carried off his novel experience boldly, and, passing into the Spotswood hotel, he sought a direc tory. II is search for Hoi bin's name was at once successful, and, taking a note of the address, he went forth and prepared himself for the final trial. His safety lay in the character of the service he was rendering to the woman to whom Holbin owed much. At least he argued so. How little he knew the depths of villainy he was about to probe! A policeman directed him to the ad dress secured, and he found himself before a spacious and pretentious man sion of the older style. There were lights in front and he hesitated, prompted by some intuition. If he could get to the rear, he imagined, and question a servant, the risk would be less. There seemed to be a garden and a wing, and upon a side street he found an entrance through an iron gate, which stood ajar. Kntering and passing a horse tied in the shrubbery, he approached the w ing-room without connecting the place with any impres sion of memory; but suddenly, as he neared the closed door, the plashing of a fountain smote his ear. and the expe rience of a memorable night rose to mind. The iron gate, the gravel walk, the shrubbery and the wing-room! All were there; and above all the low mu sic of the fountain. Then, swift as a flash of lightning, rose his promise. He was pledged not to enter. But. as he stood, his mind confused and without power to measure the significance of the new facts, the door opened and a young woman stepped out. The light from the iron lamp sw inging overhead fell full upon her. He saw that her face was womanly, sad. and beautiful, a face hallowed by the sufferings of others like unto th-ose he had seen so often in the convent and hospital. A vague half memory of it arose in his mind. He lifted his hat instinctively as she paused in surprise. *‘l fear you have made a mistake." she said, gently. “Whom do you seek?’* At the sound of her voice he uttered a low cry; and then— “Frances!’’ At the same instant she rpeognizad him and started forward; but, check ing the impulse, she drew back, stunued anti distressed. [To Bo Continued J WHAT THE FOOL SAID. Story of n Quotation n ml of Much Unorancr IMaplayrd by Irm ■tructora. An Ignoramus, not knowing the au thor of the line, “Though lost to sight, to memory dear,” appealed to a Person of Discretion, says the New York Sun. “You don’t mean to tell me you don’t know?” laughed the Person of Discretion so rudely that the Ignoramus slunk away, ashamed. Plucking up his courage he ap proached a Diplomatist. "The same author who penned the line, ‘Con sistency, thou art a jewel,*” was the answer. The Ignoramus asked a Man Who Is Never Caught Napping. “Of course, I know the author,” said the Man Who Is Never Caught Napping. “It’s—ahem—confound it, I’ve forgot ten. The name is on the very tip of my tongue, but—how stupid—I know perfectly well, you know, but your asking me lias knocked it clear out of my head.” The Ignoramus went to a Wise Man and told him all. “Three separata students upon three separata occa sions were asked three different ques tions,” said the Wise Man, oracularly. "The finest question was: ‘What was the exact number of the ancient Greek chorus?* the second: ‘What is ths cause of the aurora borealis?’ ths third: ‘Whut is the source of animal heat?’ To each question each student gave the same answer: ‘I did know, but I’ve forgotten,’ and each instruc tor, it is said, made the same com ment: ‘To think thnt the only man who ever knew should have forgot ten!” Still mystified, the Ignoramus asked a Fool—there was no doubt about his l»eing a Fool, because every body said so. His answer proved it. *’I don’t know," said the Fool. Spotless Minina. Katie ia an interesting figure Id the studio of one of the art colonies of this city. She is a maid from th* “old and,” and a.n faithful to her mia tress as she is devoted to art. Nat urally Katie hears a lot of *‘sho| talk." and appropriates the profes sional terms to her own use. A vis itor to the studio recently proved rather irritating to Katie's nerves, and after the door had Hoard upot the obnoxious party Rati* drew the portiere with a jerk, exclalmlegi “Sure, she is as yon see her; thera’a no background." I’pon another oca» aion Katie was admiring in extrava gant terms a picture of Queen Via ♦ oria. "Ah, but there’s a foine wom an for ye! And look at all tha Si gant ehilder she brought up." Net* ing a smile on the face of her silent listener, Katie bristled tip: "Well, what have ye agin her? Snre, there’* not a stain upon her that, isn't pur* and spotless,—N. Y. Tribune. e»nr Tar*»i Practice. A general was hsrd pressed ia bat tle and on the point of giving way. "hen suddenly a spirit soldier cam* t<- his rescue and enabled him to win » great victory. Prostrating hirnselj on the ground, he asked the spirit’r name. "I ain the god of the target,* replied the spirit. "And how have 1 merited your godship's kind assist ance?" inquired the general. "1 am grateful to you," answered the spirit, “because in your days of practice you never once hit me."—"A Century oL Chinese Literature," THE SITUATION IN CUBA. J Compliance with the riat* A tnea « meat Must Be the Out come. The new hitch in the Cuban case is to be regretted, but it has been brought about by the Cuban* them selves, and doubtless will toon be re moved by them. Iu the acceptance of the IMatt amendment by the Havana constitutional convention there was on addenda which gives a different in terpretation to one or two of the pro visions of the amendment than the letter of that raeasurp will permit. 1 he visiting delegation of Cubans mis understood Secretary Hoot in his ex planation of some of the provisions of the IMatt terms, and their notion got into the proceedings of the convention at the time the terms were accepted. They evidently supposed that the pres ident and the secretary of war intend ed to remove some of the rigors of the stipulations as set forth in the amend ment, and they gave this idea to their colleague* in the convention. In this way the constitution framers obtained an erroneous view of the situation, and this is reflected in their acceptance of the terms. What the Cubans have been told now by Secretary Root is that the CUBA-" PATCHED ONE S IS BETTER'N NONE, ANYWAY.** Platt amendment will have to be ac cepted as it stands. Neither the presi dent nor the secretary of war has any authority to alter it in the slightest degree. Their relation to it is to en force it according to its obvious letter. 1 he function oi Interpreting the amendment if there be any doubt as to its exact meaning rests with the courts. Congress has the authority of making the terras and has the pow or to change them in either direction If it chooses. Congress is the only power which can do this. The func tion of the executive is to execute the laws according to their letter, or ap purent letter, and if there be any need for an interpretation of them so as to clear up any doubt as to their exact meaning that work will have to be done bv the judicial branch of the gov ernment. The course for the ( uhans is clear, must agree to the Platt statute iti its strict terms. There can be no mental reservations or equivocations on this point. Their oftieial accept ance must be so plain and so explicit that there enn Ik* no possibility of any hedging by them hereafter. That they will meet the new situation in the proper spirit is probable. The ' necessities of the case have been pointed out to them by the author ities at Washington in a frjhndly way, and they have been told that the terms must he agreed to as they are laid down in the statute. The con sequences of their rejection, or of a delay in their acceptance, can readily be pointed out to the Cubans. The American troops will remain in the Island until a government which will meet American ideas is established, and this rnwot Ik* done until the re lations between Cuba and the United j States are agreed to by the Cubans I on the exact lines laid down in the1 Platt proviso. It was the expects-i tion that a Cuban republic would be In operation by the end of 1001 at the : latest, but If there ts to he any ob struct ivenea* on Cuba’s part this out* come will hi* delayed. Probably an amicable agreement will be reached soon. At least this is the hope of all 1 Americans. Until this is effected, j how *ver, the United States soldiers, will remain In Cuba and the United j States flag will fly over Cuba's prin- j nipsl cities and its fortifications.— ft. Louis Globe-Democrat. TRAITOROUS AGUINALDO. ArrfcUf* Captarrd la Laiaa T*ll the Starr •€ HU PerH4r. Murat Halstead has made an ana! ynia of the Filipino archives captured when Aguinaldo and his cabinet fled from Malolos in the spring of 1899. The result of this study is a revela tion of Aguinaldo's character that places him before the American pub lic in an entirely new light. Among the documents captured were many of Aguinaldo’s private papers and let ters from the Spanish authorities in Manila, written after Dewey’s vic tory and before the capture of the city. There are the minutes oj tha so-called Filipino republic, proclama tions, private instructions and offi cial reports. These various papers pruve from Filipino sources that Aguinaldo plot ted treachery against the United States and in favor of Spain before the fall of Manila, that he was it* correspondence with the Spanish Den. Augustin. There are letters proving that Aguinaldo wrote after the battle of Manila and before the capture of the city that he had the hope of preserving “from the ship wreck the sovereignty of Spain in CU&K vsyUu\s— these islands.” That is the kind of an ally he was of the I'nited State*. There are letters showing that while the Amreican troops and Fil ipino forces wer laying siege to Ma nila, the Spanish army inside tho city was supplied with fresh meat through the Filipino lines on passe* signed by Aguinaldo. There is a letter from Af.i‘ina!de to the Spanish governor genera! ex pressing a wish to enter into a “con tract for mutual advantages,and tho letter was written on the day that Admiral Dewey supplied Aguinaldo with 7,000 guns to be used against tho Span i a rds. Documents signed by Aguinaldo weeks before the insurrection broko out on Fehrauary 3, ISM, gave inf inite directions for the assassination of American sentries while profe** ing to be on friendly terms. The captured archives also furnish the details of the agreement under which Aguinaldo for a cash payment of 600,000 pesos agreed to drop th« rebellion against Spanish authority in 1607. The money was paid to Aguinaldo, and with cabinet, officer* he proceeded to Lingayan, where the entire party boarded a Spanish mer chant steamer and were taken to Hong-Kong. More than this, the programme wa* so arranged that It was not until Aguinaldo was ready to sail that ho telegraphed orders to his generals to lay down their arms and aurrender their forces.—Chirago Tribune. f^Therc is one thing about Presi dent McKinley’s trip that made It dif ferent from the average presidential ‘swing around the circle.” The pres ident being no longer a prospective caudidat r, it could not be construed as a vote-getting tour. Perhaps this will make the enthusiasm of the peo ple all the greater, although Presi dent McKinley is n mnn who alway* arouses enthusiasm, in the western cities end towns he will undouhted’j receive the greatest welcome ever ao corded any man.—Troy Times. t-fMr. Bryan shouiu endeavor to break himself of the habit of using the word “must” in discussing plain for the democratic future. He may keep it up until he incites Homebody to refer to him a* Old Musty*—Wash ington fust.