The Leon reporter., March 07, 1901, Image 7

About The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
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CHAPTER IX.—(Continued..)
Looking on, thankful for his wife's
temporary brightness, was Gervis, too
much encumbered by his robes of lci
olea and snow to Join tha dancers, and
holding his hand v*« little, misshapen
3yb—she, too, perforce, being a spec
tator and never an actor in the merry
games of life.
"It's a pretty sight, isn't it, little
5yb?" heartily said Qervis, determined
In hlar honest,. manly fashion to be
proud of the wife he had won.
Gladdy, light as a sprite, was dart
ing up and down in the old-fashioned
dance, and every eye was fixed upon
her dainty figure, in its dress of sil
very brocade. She, too, had blood-red
berries' fastened in the folds ot her
wedding gown and a great bunch on
her left shoulder.
"If Leila had on a dress of silver
brocade, and diamonds on her neck,
she would look a thousand times pret
tier than that thin girl!" was Syb's
harsh reply, as she glowered at the
shining little figure dancing up and
down the middle.
Before the startled Gervis could col
lect himself -to reply a disagreeable,
low laugh made both Syb and he turn
quickly.
Temple-Dene was liberty hall, and
the scientist had again shut himself
up in his room all day, deep In some
abstruse calculations, doubtless. But
the music and laughter had drawn
the hermit from, his, cell,-and. he stood
close behind them, with a strange,
mocking smile on his thin lips.
"Little missy has distinct powers of
discrimination, evidently," Paul Ans
dell said, fixing his black eyes full on
the frowning face of the deformed
child. At the same time he lifted his
right hand, but, on second thought,
dropped it at his side furtively.
"You ought to have been among the
merry dancers, Ansdell," said Gervis,
a little puzzled by his new friend.
"The merry dancers?" repeated the
scientist quickly. "Why, do you know
what you are saying? The merry
dancers are the famous northern
lights, and we folk across the herring
pond have a superstition that they
are never seen save before some ter
r.ole calamity."
While Paul was speaking his gaze
grew more intent, and his dark eyes
seemed to be drawing out the soul
of the deformed child. The frown had
faded from her uplifted face and in
its stead an expectant look leaped. It
was as though she were saying dumb
ly:
"I am ready! What would you have
with me, my master?"
"Well," retorted Gervis, whose eyes
wandering back to the quaint old
dance had lost the byplay, "if the mer
ry dancers are to bring a calamity,
It must be upon yourself, Ainsdell, see
ing we have no such superstition
among us that I know of." And he
moved off, with a train of clamoring
Children' at his heels.
The dance was over, and laughing,
chattering and fluttering, the dancers,
old and young, gathered around Lady
Jane, who, determined to have a va
riety of entertainment at her Christ
mas party, was urging a shrinking,
shy boy to recite "The Mistletoe
Bough."
"You know, Bobby, you can do it
so beautifully, and Mrs. Templeton
would like to hear it so much!"
Bobby Vane was the big brother
from Eton of the small lisper in blue
velvet who clung to Gladdy's skirts
when he could.
Bobby was a born reciter, but, un
fortunately, shy—horribly shy.
However, at last, cajoled, hustled
and goaded, the boy, with his ears
pink and his knees knocking together
—for he had never faced so large ah
audience—rushed at his task.
After the first line Bobby felt his
feet. His voice was good, clear, sweet
and round as a bell it showed no hint
of breaking as yet.
The gay company, breathless and in
tent, closed round the youthful reciter
as the old legend in verse fell in clear,
dropping syllables from his lips:
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
And the holly-branch shone on the old
oak wall,
,And the baron's retainers were blithe
and gay,
.eeping their Christmas holiday,
nd as the poem went on all were
ibly Impressed by the curious slml
|y of their present surroundings
me detailed by the reciter.
'J old world ballroom, with its
dark oak rafters, its
By N. B. MAN WELL
rowB of
klnk
glittering
armor—for Temple-Dene was noted
for its armor—the "goodly company"
of gallants and fair dames, the merry
children, the old paneled walls blush
ing red with lavish wealth ot scarlet
holly berries while here and there
,nd everywhere, in the most unex
ted places, large bunches of mistle
hung to tempt and entrap the un-
And, above all, there was the
feature, the bride—
star of that goodly company.
we ought to carry It out
itter!" excitedly cried Gladdy,
recitation was over, and the
applause cause shame-faced
ee for shelter behind a suit
rmor.
lid child, this new daugh
blandly said Lady Jane
cronies, as Gladdy sped
all to the distant stair-
had not been the great
leiress she was, her escap
iave been promptly frowned
knew very well.
in the gallery that ran
hall, Paul Ansdell was pac
fand down, witli folded arms
ply frowning brow.
lit meant for this man other
than it did for the merry
below. The crucial moment
tome when be was about to stake
|1. Either he would be in a por
to grasp a fortune, or he would
^himself 1& a prison cell. That
along the grtilery alight
f- pPii
Srvan.re^g^^^
footstep come behind him. So light
was its patter that Paul did not hear
it.
"You?"
As he turned he faced a little figure
in gleaming silver robes with patches
of crimson here and there—blood-red
berries—and at her. throat a dazzle
of diamonds.
It was Gladdy, on tiptoe.
"I have come to hide—to hide!"
Her voice abruptly died away, for
Paul Ansdell's eyes held her. Her whole
figure drooped, the joyousness died
out of her small face, and her eyes
grew large and dilated as they gazed
back, almost glued to those of the
scientist.
Motionless, immovable, she waited
while he drew nearer to her. There
was for her the fascination of the vic
tim for the rattlesnake.
And^while the two—master and tool
—came closer and closer, there came
floating up from below the sounds of
music and revelry and gay laughter.
The dancing had begun again, and
there was a flash of changing color as
the couples whirled round.
In the gallery a strange silence
reigned.
One little watcher, hidden close be
hind a bank of ferns and festoons of
holly berries, could hear her own heart
beats.
It was Syb, the deformed girl, who
had stolen away from the throng of
merrymakers an hour since.
Something strange and uncanny had
befallen Syb, some inscrutable Influ
ence held her prisoner. Her will was
chained up, she was powerless to come
and go as she would.
But only so far was she dominated.
Every other sense she had was alert.
And she watched with wonderment the
bride, whom she hated for standinig
in the place that should have been
Leila's, droop visibly before the slowly
waving hands of Paul Ansdell, the sci
entist. The strain not to lose any
thing in the strange scene being en
acted before her was too much for
Syb even to wonder why the long,
lean hands went up and down, up and
down, slowly and methodically.
The gay music from below rose and
fell, and between its bursts Syb's sharp,
young ears caught the hissed out com
mand as Paul Ansdell bent over the
little crouching figure in silver bro
cade:
"Go! Do my will!"
With a faint, almost inarticulate
cry Gladdy straightened herself, and,
turning, went slowly along the gallery.
Paul Ansdell's eyes followed her until
she disappeared on the opposite side.
The music below ceased with a
crash of chords, the dance was over,
and in the lull Syb heard a sharp
click.
So did Paul Ansdell, for he quickly
lifted his head, and a gray pallor crept
over his face.
Then he hurried away in the direc
tion of the bachelors' wing, where he
had been located on his arrival.
"I hate him, too!" irritably said Syb.
In truth, the poor, misshapen girl
hated most people.
As if some baleful thing had depart
ed, she rose and shook herself. The
holly had scratched her thin, bare
arms, and there was a trickle of red
that dropped on her white muslin
frock.
"Ugh! it's all horrid!" she shud
dered impatiently. "I wish Leila and
I could run away from it all, and live
In a cottage by ourselves," she mur
mured, as she went wandering round
the horse-shoe gallery.
For to this afflicted child all the
music and brightness and Cnristmas
joy in the hall below was gall and
wormwood.
CHAPTER X.
Even the maddest, merriest of rev
elers must grow weary.
The Cnristmas merrymakers flagged,
the gay music dragged a little slowly
here and there a tired child-guest
yawned in a corner, then nodded, and
finally was carried away in a deep
sleep.
Outside, under the stars, a long line
of carriages waited, and the hostess,
with tired eyes, wondered why people
did not go.
It had been a fatiguing day for
Lady Jane and for Leila, who had not
spared herself in helping. She and
Lady Jane, side by side, ran- the gant
let of the interminable good-byes from
exhausted but delighted guests.
The Christmas gathering had been
the greatest success the county had
known for years, and Lady Jane was
excited by the flatteries and thanks
of the departing guests.
"Where's your wife, dear? She
ought to have' been here te see the
guests off."
Lady Jane laid her hand on her son's
arm. She was, in her tired state, ready
to be cross even with the heiress.
"Gladdy? I'm sure I don't know,
mother dear."
Gervis yawned. He was pining to
get off his Santa Claus trappings, and
to have a quiet pipe by himself.
A quarter of an hour later nearly
every soul under the Temple-Dene
roof was echoing Lady Jane's ques
tion.
Where was the bride?
Not in her own room, not in the
hot, deserted ballroom she was not
in the upper gallery, where the lights
were already being put out.
All sense of fatigue was put to flight
by a vague terror of some evil hang
ing over tlio house of Temple-Dene.
Under the ancient roof only two
persons did not si. are the terrified ex
citement when it was discovered that
Mrs. Gervis Templeton was nowhere
to be found—its master and the Amer
ican guest.
Gervis himself was petrified. He had
brought all his strength of will to
bear on nobly doinjg his duty to the
woman he had won for his wife. No
one but he would ever know how
hard the fight had been.
And now it was all in valnT"" tor
Gladdy had gone—where, no one knew.
Since the journey on the Canadian
Pacific railway, over the anow-covered
prairiea, Gladdy had been a bewilder
ing puzzle to her hubband. Her vagar
ies had made him secretly wonder at
times if he had married a lunatic.
Then again a great fear would loom
up that his wife had inherited some
terrible wasting disease, and was about
to slip through his fingers and out of
life itself.
But this catastrophe on Christmas
night eclipsed ail that he had even
dreaded.
Gladdy gone! She who had been the
merriest, gladdest, happiest of all the
"goodly companie!" It was inscrut
able, horrible, maddening!
Out into the freezing night went
parties of searchers. Not a man un
der Temple-Dene's roof, gentle or
simple, save two—its master and the
American guest, Paul Ansdell—but
joined the anxious hunt
All was in vain!
"Nothing more can be done until the
daylight comes," hoarsely said Gervis,
as he strode Into the still gayly lighted
hall, and stamped the hard iced snow
off his boots.
His face was gray, and a strange
look of age had crept oved it, which
made it startlingly like that of his
mother.
Lady Jane, worn out and spent,
crouched down beside the great yule
log, that crackled and roared, the only
cheery thing around.
She and Gervis gazed blankly at each
other. What had they done, the two
were asking one another silently, that
this disgrace should have come to
shame them?
"Can anybody tell me who saw or
spoke with my wife last?"
There was a catch in the young
husband's voice as he put the question
to the circle of anxious-eyed searchers
round him.
"She said she was going to hide.
Don't you remember?" Bobby Vane,
who had recited, craned his neck for
ward to say.
Then everybody did remember what
they had forgotten—Gladdy's wild pro
posal to enact the bride in the "Mistle
toe Bough," and a gasp of relief came.
"Why, she's in the house somewhere,
safe and sound, laughing in her sleeve
at us all and we've teen for the last
hour tearing our clothes and the skin
off our hands in that thicket of holly
bushes round the pond!"
"Let's go all over the house again,"
suggested somebody else.
"Perhaps she's crept inside one of
the suits of armor," suggested Bobby,
with protruding eyes. What a tale it
was going to be to carry back to
school!
Another hour was spent in search,
but all fruitlessly.
(To be Continued.)
GAME KILLING.
Denver Times Sees Danger In Allowing
Indians Latitude*
There is a curious disposition among
the people to make sport of Gov.
Thomas' crusade against the Indians
who are said to be killing game out
side their reservation and within the
boundaries of this state. That it has
a comic side is probably not to be de
nied. But it may also have a very
serious side. The border country has
not had any Indian experiences of
late, and the American people show
an astonishing facility in forgetting
unpleasant things. Those who know
anything about the Indian know that
the kind of movement now begun may
very easily incite him to acts which
will have a very serious significance to
outlying settlers and possibly small
villages. The Indians know as well
as Gov. Thomas does that the federal
power is not behind this movement.
They rarely forego a chance for im
mediate revenge because of the pos
sibility of a remote reprisal. That the
state can prevail in the end nobody
doubts, perhaps, but aside from the
•harvest of trouble and loss of life we
may have to reap, citizens are also
looking to the harvest of debt that
must follow, though we are now at our
wits' end to devise means for paying
what we already owe. Some of them
are inclined to suspect the governor of
a kind of "after us, the deluge" policy.
—Denver Times.
TOO EXTRAVAGANT.
A Defaulting Cashier Ate Ham Boiled In
Champagne.
The manner in which one defaulting
cashier was detected was rather pecul
iar, says the Louisville Times. It was
all due to the curiosity of the women
of his neighborhood. He went to no
expense in the way of dressing, they
never heard of his gambling or drink
ing to any extent, he was a model hus
band, but he loved a good table. There
was nothing unusual in this, but one
day when the ladies of the vicinity
were discussing the best methods of
cooking meats the wife of the cashier
declared very innocently that her hus
band doted on ham, but he would not
eat it unless it had been boiled in
champagne. "Boiled in champagne!"
exclaimed tne listeners. "Heavens,
how expensive we couldn't afford to
have ham on our table often if we
cooked It that way." It was soon
noised all around the neighborhood
that Cashier Blank was a high liver,
indeed, and the men began telling of
his uplifted ideas of cookery. This
soon reached the ears of the directors
of the bank, and they concluded it
might be" wise to investigate the ac
counts of such an epicure. Plain wa
ter was all they could afford for their
hams, so the champagne lover was
called up and subsequently relegated
to the pen, where he had to forego his
pet dish for many, many weary days.
American Boolcs la Mexico.
Mexico buys more American books
than does France, and nearly as many
as Germany. Much of this trade is
due to the large resident American
population to be found in Mexican
cities and to the demand from mining
camps, where Americans are living,
and not a little is due to the growing
spread of English among the Mexican
people. There is a strong tendency
here in favor of popularizing the Eng
lish language, and the learners of that
tongue comprise professional men in
middle life as well as thousands of
youth. Some large institutions of
learning have put English ahead of
French.—Mexican Herald.
1 Irv the Fowler
i*
By M. B. NANWELL
CHAPTER X.—(Continued.)
"Better send the young people to
bed, it is now daylight almost," sug
gested the elders, and they carefully
avoided looking at each other.
That some terrible calamity had
happened even Lady Jane, whose first
fear had been that the bride had run
away, was fully convinced.
"But, Leila, you will stay by me?"
quavered the mistress of the house,
suddenly transformed into a broken
down old woman.
"I will, dear aunty," gravely said
Leila. "I shall see little Syb safe in
bed, then I shall return to you."
LeHa Desmond, slenderly graceful,
soft and caressing, womanly to the
finger-tips, was yet one of those loyal,
strong natures we turn to lean upon
in the "day of trouble."
Gervis gave her one look of rever
ence, then he placed his arm round
that mother for wnom he and this
"perfect woman, nobly planned" had
sacrificed themselves so fatally.
Every hour was bringing home to
him the terrible blunder he had made
In his life. Love between man and
woman was God-given, to be prize.)
as sacred but under the specious pre
text of sacrificing himself for the good
of his house, he had torn love trom
his heart, and then sold that empty
shell for gold. That it had been a bit
ter, sinful bargain he now knew.
Perhaps this impending calamity
which he was helplessly waiting for
the new day to discover might be
heaven's punishment for what he had
done.
It was still and quiet in the old
house. There was a lull of expectancy
until the daylight should come to al
low action to be resumed.
In Leila's room it was silent as the
grave. Beside the white-draperied bed
knelt Leila herself. She was praying,
with frightened tears now no one was
by to see them—praying earnestly for
the hapless girl who had shadowed her
life.
That something dire had happened
Leila instinctively knew but all she
could do was to pray for help from
above.
"Leila! Sis!" A hoarse, shrill
voice made her spring to her feet.
Close at her side stood Syb, shiver
ing in her little blue dressing-gown,
her face working convulsively.
"I can't keep it from you any long
er! I dare not, though I do hate her
so!" the deformed girl was saying, her
teeth chattering as much from terror
as from cold.
"Speak, Syb!"
Leila gripped the thin wrist, her
breath coming thick and fast. Syb
knew, then!
"I heard a cry, a smothered scream
from the old oak chest, as I walked
round the gallery but I hated her so
that I would not speak before! And
when I saw you, through the open door
between our rooms, praying with sobs,
I knew it must be for her. So I must
tell, and you'd better be quick!"
Syb slipped to the floor in a swoon.
But Leila was already gone. With
flying feet she was rushing downstairs
from the third floor, where her bed
room and Syb's were.
"Gervis! Gervis! Come, and come
quickly! Bring Barnes!" When she
had reached the gallery she shrieked
loudly. Her voice, sharp with fear,
rang through the old house and made
Gervis leap to his feet.
"It's Leila! She has found out some
thing! Mother dear, stay here, I pray
you!"
He pressed Lady Jane back on her
seat.
"No one knows what* we liav« got
to face!"
"Bring Barnes! Oh, be quick!" Le
ila's voice cried again in an agony of
haste.
Barnes, the white-haired old butler,
was stiff and rheumatic. It seemed
as though he would never reach the
top of the wide, crimson-covered stair
case, and yet the old man was doing
his best, though Gervis would fain
have dragged him up two steps at a
time.
"Where are you, Leila?" he hoarsely
shouted.
"Here! here! Quick!"
Round the curve of the gallery they
found Leila, tearing frantically the
holly and moss decorations from what
had been a bank of greenery.
The blood was trickling down her
hands and wrists, as the holly tore
them cruelly. But, unconscious of
pain, Leila continued to pull, until the
old black-oak chest, which had been
the foundation of the green bank, was
displayed.
"Press the spring, Barnes! Nobody
in Temple-Dene knows the secret but
you. Press, for Gladdy's dear sake!"
panted the girl, madly beside herself.
"Whatever-—" Barnes was begin
ning, and fumbling with his specta
cles.
"Man, do as you're bid!" shouted
Gervis, catching the infection of Le
ila's frenzy. And he dragged Barnes
forward.
Something in his blazing eyes made
the old man pull himself together.
He stooped forward. With shaking
hands, he felt along the carvings but
how slow he was! The watchers
caught their breaths and shivered.
'Tis in the shamrock, I do mind
me. 'Tis b'und to be in the sham
rock, the spring," he was muttering.
In an instant Leila was on her
knees, and there, among the carved
leaves and flowers of oak, was a single
dainty snamrock.
It was the spring!
Pressing it hard as she could, the
carved lid clicked as it opened about
an inch. Then Gervis, with strong
arms, forced it back on its hinges, and
a muffled cry broke from his lips.
'.'V:
CHAPTER XI.
Lying huddled In the musty chest
Rras a little figure in gleaming silver
brocade, stained here and there with
bunches of crushed holly berries.*
It waj Gladdy, stiffened and lm
&
able, but with widely opened, round
blue eyes.
That she was dead was the first
muttered thought of both Gervis and
Leila.
"No! 'Tain't death!" quickly said
old Barnes, glancing at their white
faces. "See ye, Mr. Gervis, there's a
row of air-holes down each side o' the
chest. I saw 'em made myself in the
old squire's time, purpose-Mke, in case
o' this verv kind o' thing that's hap
pened now!"
But Gervis was not listening. He
and others who had rushed to the gal
lery were carefully lifting the small,
stiffened foim. A mounted gioomhad
already been dispatched for a doctor.
"But something must be done at
once," said Gervis, as they laid the
unconscious girl cn an Indian rug on
the polished flcor of the gallery.
Somebody was trying to for. brandy
through the marble white lips.
"Not a drop will go down! What
are we to do until the doctor comes?"
pitcously cried Leila, who, kneeling
down, had slipped her arm under the
little sunny-brown head.
"Fetch Mr. Ansdell!" commanded
Gervis, with a sudden inspiration.
Surely the American could give some
help in the pressing emergency, other
wise, what was the value of his so
called scientific reputation?
Mr. Ansdell! Everybody then re
membered that, oddly enough, the sci
entist had not been-once seen during
the hours of anxious search. It was
curious, to say the least of it. And
still more curious did it appear that
no Mr. Ansdell hurried to the gallery
in answer to the summons.
"Never mind, here's young Doctor
Goring himself, which is better," ejac
ulated Lady Jane, who had struggled
upstairs more dead than alive from
sheer fright, and looked on helplessly.
"It's a trance!" at last pronounced
the doctor, a young man, with all the
latest medical and scientific theories
at finger-ends. "She has been
hy itized! Who has done this mis
chief?"
He stood up and glanced round upon
the awe-struck group sternly.
There was no answer, and Doctor
Goring went on wrathfully:
"Somebody has got to answer for
this night's work! The poor young
lady has been brought to death's door,
evidently, by some vile experiment.
Now, then, clear out of this every one
of you! Excuse my bluntness, Lady
Jane, but this is not a moment for po
lite speech. I've got a life to win back
if I can, and I can't have a crowd
round me. Your ladyship can remain,
and, yes, I must have Miss Desmond,
if I've anybody."
One by one the spectators departed
from the gallery, and the young med
ical enthusiast set to work, with the
result that in a quarter of an hour
Gladdy feebly opened her lips and
spoke.
"I want Leila," was the whisper.
And when she saw that it was Leila
herself who was supporting her head
the bride's round eyes closed content
edly.
"She will sleep now. We must carry
her to her bed," said Doctor Goring,
well satisfied.
"You are wanted, sir, at once," came
an urgent whisper while Gervis, lift
ing his wife in his arms, carried her
away.
"What! another case?" The doctor
wheeled around, and he was silently
beckoned to the quarter of the house
known as the bachelors' wing.
Lying back in his chair in front of
a writing table, and grasping a folded
paper, was a dead man.
The room was in perfect order. There
had been no assault, no murder, no
suicide, so far as one could judge at
the moment.
But that death had entered the half
open stare of the black eyes, the
dropped jaw, and the marble hue of
the long, lean fingers gripping the
sheet of paper spoke all too clearly.
Little wonder that Paul Ansdell had
failed to join in the search for the
missing bride, failed to obey the sum
mons for his helpful skill.
"He has been dead quite a couple
of hours," said Doctor Goring gravely,
secretly wondering what would be the
outcome of this double tragedy.
"You must keep this business from
the ladies as long as you can," he said,
turning to Gervis, who had been hast
ily sent for. "There must be an in
quest, of course and, meantime, I
should take possession of that folded
paper. See, I've managed not to tear
it. You'd best lock it away until you
hand it to the coroner, Mr. Temple
ton."
"Why," gasped Gervis, as he caught
sight of the close, upright handwrit
ing, "my wife wrote that! What vil
lainy is this? See here!"
"It was the last will and testament
of Gladys Templeton, and, In correct
legal form it assigned everything the
testator possessed to Paul Ansdell of
Montreal, revoking all former wills and
codicils. The document was duly
signed, and the signatures and ad
dresses of two Americans were append
ed.
Not a flaw was there from beginning
to end of the deed.
"You hold the key that unlocks the
whole of this night's mystery," briefly
said the young doctor. "This unfortu
nate man must be a reckless adven
turer, whose wits have put in his
hands a most dangerous weapon. He
is, we will discover, a criminal hypno
tist, a so-called scientist, seeking some
tool to further his own ends. Yes.
yes you'll see we'll find out that's
what he is—was, I mean," said the
medical man.
He was right in his surmise, as the
inquest brought out, bit by bit, partly
from papers belonging to the dead
man, partly from the unwilling evi
dence of Gladdy, who had been more
or less under hypnotic Influence ,since
the night of. the fire in the snow-Whed.
As for the yillain'i own death, it
was proved to We fronj natural causes,
heart disease.
that caused a breakdown at the cru
cial moment of his career.
But the jury's verdict was the popu
lar one—"By the visitation of God."
Five years have passed away.
So many changes have happened to
Temple-Dene and the Templetons that
Lady Jane has come to look back upon
the days when she wore faded silks
and lived a sorely pinched life as the
happiest she has known.
Today she no longer wears her fa
vorite blue, for Francis Templeton ha?
gone to his grave, his heart eaten ou.
by the melancholy nothing would dis
pel.
So Lady Jane wears widow's r-cth
and haR learnt the old lesson tha
"contentment is great gain."
The dainty Amer'can br:d-, so fra
gile and hfrMy strung, ne\er m-.nage
to weather the repeated shocks to
frail syf-t ni. Like a broken flower sh
withered, until decline -le: in.
In I-cila's tender, pp.-r:ing arm'
her we:ik hands Kinging ti^ht to
I.c'Ia soft thr.a!, Gladdy died p:ar
fully.
"Take care of rry Hervis. I.fi'a. Yo
wi'l do it better than I," with lie \\n
drous intuition r.f the dying che wi.!
pered at. .the last.
And now that the y-ar= hi'e go.
round, Gervis begins to think it
time Leila was taking care rf him.
Between the two there is a pel fr
understanding, and by sn hy the
wedding bells will ring ort: for thcug
"sorrow endureth for tha nlTht, jo.
is bound to come in the morning."
(The En 1.)
WICKED CITIES.
Hold Ritrglarn jind Hljlnrrynnt arc
Numerous In
(i:iy I'll
Im.
Highway robberies have multiplied
of late in Paris to so alarming an ex
tent that it is scarcely an exaggeration
to say that we live at present unde
reign of terror. Every morning th?
papers publish a fresh list of victims,
says a correspondent in the London
Pall Mall Gazette. The main thor
oughfares are somewhat safer, of
course, than the more out of the way
streets, but even on the chief boule
vards the belated pedestrian runs no
inconsiderable risk as soon as the rush
of traffic from the theaters is over.
Bagshot Heath in the palmiest days of
highwaymen must have been a delecta
ble spot after dusk compared with
some of the most respectable districts
of Paris at present.. In the olden dayj
you were at least allowed to save your
skin by parting with your purse,
whereas the modern Parisian footpad
does his best in nine cases out of ten
to murder his victim either before or
after be has robbed him. The un
speakable ferocity of the Parisian ruf
fian is. perhaps, the ugliest feature of
the situation. He is seldom or never
content with merely easing the "pante"
of his property. His usual mode of
proceeding is to begin by half killing
his prey as the readiest way of pre
venting anything in the nature of re
sistance. Revolvers, knives, bludgeons,
"os de mouton" and knackle dusters
do their work effectually before thfcre
is any question of securing the booty.
Time after time it is the same old tale.
The police come up. either attracted fly"
the scuffle, or long afterward, on their
beat, to find a. tinioitftriSte creature
lying in a pool of blood, dead or in
desperate straits. But there have been
innumerable examples of late of vio
lence being resorted to solely with a
view of satisfying the most fiendish
instincts of cruelty. On the whole, the
police do what they can, but there are
far too few of them. Even when they
catch their quarry red-handed, which
is the exception, as their rounds are
few and far between, they are usually
outnumbered and outarmed. Instances
are common of their showing great
bravery, but, as a rule, the best that
happens is that they capture one or
two of the ruffians, while the others
make good their escape. Fortunately,
the detectives supplement their efforts
to excellent purpose. When one or two
members of a gang are arrested their
accomplices are generally run to
ground before long. The trouble is
that the supply of desperadoes seems
to be inexhaustible. One band is no
sooner under lock and key than an
other is rivalling its exploits.
Still Digging for Gold.
Mrs. Sarah MacDonald, a prumisent
club woman of New York, who went
to Alaska three years ago in search of
a fortune, writes to a friend that she
was at the time of writing, packing
up to leave Nome, where she has been
for the last two months, to start for
the southern part of Alaska. She was
going with a party to open a new
camp and mining district. She is to
be the recorder, and she declares that
she has great prospects and greater
expectations. She will be in this com
paratively unsettled country all win
ter. Mrs. MacDonald was chairman of
the executive committee of the New
York Women's Press club when she
left. Her goodby was, "I'll never
come back unless I strike it rich." Her
address now is Muchagak, via Bristo1
Bay.
Food's Lowest Daily Co*t.
By actual experience the Rnskinites,
a colony of socialists near Waycross,
Ga., have demonstrated what is prob
ably the lowest possible daily cost of
food. They live at an actual cost per
capita of less than 10 cents a day. Ot
course this could not have been ac
complished except through co-opera
tion. Everything the^ consume it
bought at wholesale in large quantities
and is cooked in the community. In
the community dining room tables are
set for 300 people. Those who do not
wish to eat with the crowd are allowed
the privilege of purchasing company
stores and cooking them at home.
Ancient Deed In Philadelphia*
The first deed conveying property 'to
the proprietor of Pennsylvania, Will
iam Penn, is written in old Dutch, and
vis now preserved in the city hall. The
property was what is now known as
Lemcn hill, including the mansion and
the Schuylkill river front, where the
old Fairmount waterwsuks was lo
cated. There Penn kept Via barge and
some rowboats, the bargrf carrying an
admiral's pennant. It is 6aid there is
only one man in Philadelp5hi ^^o-tran
read this deed.
FOR THE BOY'S ROOM
Ue Sliuu'.d Keep Everything With 11 It
I In Order.
Undoubtedly the parents of ev^,/
Doy feel an intense and earnest inter
est in having that boy make a succes.-?
of his lite. Just as surely do most
mothers think that the boy's room does
not require near the pretty furnishings
that the daughter's does, ar.d that
boys are careless and boys are rough,
with the result that the boy's room
is often the one that is put off with
the least expense and the least anr.
last, effort. Naturally boys do not carr.
for the "pretty" things as girls do but }j
the things that are lovely to them the^
do care for greatly. Boys do not wain
the fussy dainties that a girl enjoys,
but they know when they are well
treated, when loving care regarding
their especial tastes is shown. The}
like chiefly to be let alone, to play in
their own way no nagging for harm
less noise, freedom to take their bo
friends to their room. The wi.se par
ents seek to give their boys a room
moie attractive than the street corners
pr the neighbor's barn, where they
Making of a Country Home'" in Every
body's Magazine. The conditions of
personal merit and fidelity to an em
ployer have enlarged in our time. So
long as our employers were individuals
who trained and appreciated special fit
ness in their employes, and kept their
eyes on fidelity, smartness and honesty
J3*
J-C
CM.
congregate and experiment or plan
entertain themselves. The early yea
probably from 5 to 15, are the import
ant ones in a boy's life. If the mot.lie
and sister desire refined boys, th
will give them rr-'fined surrounding,
not necessarily silk cushions and I n:
curtains in their rooms, but harmoni
ous colors and loving thought of wb
the boy likes. Let the boys choc is
their own pictures they will proba.bi
be very different from what you wou'i
select. Boys will take delight in
framing the pictures, with your help
the expense—help them arrange their
collections. Give them a good writing
table. Give them as good a light as
any in the liouse. With such liberty
and interest and help, your hoy will
bring his companions to his home, and
he will spend many hours in his room,
probably hours of real industry, which
keep him from temptations and give
him reliance on his own powers. The
boys should he as carefully taught hab
its of neatness and care for their room
as their sisters are.
AfteT
the room
has been properly cleaned in the morn
ing they should be held responsible for
its order all day.
"HURRYCIDE" KILLS.
How Trusts Affect luulvlilnal l.lve# In
New York.
The conditions of life in the business
world are more precarious and more
hopeless today than at any time in the
past three decades. This is the state
ment of John
P.
Mowbray in "The
we felt safe. It was to their interest'.1^
to advance us. But all that is chang
ing, passing into corporate lrresponsl-Jr«|C
bility and abstract bossship. Look at^^
our friend Warner. He was with a
big firm ten years. He knew every
pulse qf their business and managed
his-jlfijfcrtment like^l'KJjifS'r^ iit'
was twenty-four-hundred-a-year
man. put the firm joined a trust gave
over the personal supervision of their
business to the new brand of overseers
and the first thing they did was to sh
Warner and put a fifteen--hundred-dcl
lar-a-year man in his place. To yon
know what happened to Warnc*»
"Why, he was your friend who was
killed, wasn't he?" "K'e ccmmitterl
what the reckless fellows in the Astor
House rotunda call 'hurryeide.' War
ner tried to jump for an electric car,
and those fellows have a ghastly humor
which attributes such an act to a man
who was overdrawn his accounts, or
has played the tape-line too rashly.
But the fact is, Warner suffered a kind
of moral paralytic stroke. He couldn't
realize that ten years of scrupulous
self-sacrificing attention to another
man's business could end in that way.
it bothered him, and it doesn't do for
the average man to get bothered when
on Kroadway at the rush hour. If he
takes his mind off the brink for a mo
ment, he is gone. Poor Warner was
probably thinking of his children, and
the electric destroyer struck him on
the left side."
DALY AND HACKMAN.
Kew Story Told of the f.ato MonUuia
Copper Klug-.
When Marcus Daly was in Wash
ington last it is told that he performed
a humane act which very nearly
brought a brutal hack driver into the
police court, and was a topic of con
versation at the hotel and other places
which Daly frequented. The story es
caped the vigilance of the local news
paper fraternity, and is here published
for the first time. Daly was coming
out of Chamberlain's one morning
when he espied a negro hackman
brutally belaboring a crippled old
horse with a heavy whip in an almost
futile effort to increase its speed from
a walk to a slow trot, says the Wash
ington Post. Daly hailed the driver,
who quickly drew rein and approached
the.curb with the prospects of obtain
ing a fare. "Where do you want to
go to, boss?" inquired the negro. "I'll
want to go with you to the police court
if you don't stop beating that poor old
horse," replied the millionaire. "You
could coax the nag along faster with a
handful of oats and a wisp of hay in
front of him than, you can -by beating
him from behind. When did you feed
him last?" The negro complained that
times were hard, that fares were scarce
and that he could not afford to pro
vide better for bis horse. Daly saw
force of the argument at once and
in'iiA^ynjw much the cabman avef
agj^^Bwd was told that
$
1 good wage. Dal/
5JS
'•,"5
A
''ft
mi
&
ii
4*
whicC
It to
the takr
treat hi:
and if I S'
in the ne:
arrested.