r?
r-
A ROUGH DIAMOND.
i.
Oh, Miss Elsie, Miss Elsie, the bans
lias been robbed! Twenty thousand
pounds gone, missie! and poor mas
ter away! Oh, dear! oh, dear!
Fully an hour ago. -had the above
words been thrust &n pretty little Elsie
Maltland's bewildered hearing. She
still sat in the e\act spot where the
bearer of the awfui news had left her,
too stunned and s"hocked even yet to
properly realize atl that the terrible
tidings might meaii.
Twenty thousand pounds.gone! And
the bank in a soniewhai embarrassed
condition before! Woret sof all, the
hanker himself—iElsie's uncle—was
away! Elsie Maitland was a brave lit
tle woman, but somehow this last
dreadful thing had well-nigh robbed
her of her bravery.
A step behind her, and a low voice
spoke her name. She knew it at once
it was her good-for-nothing brother's.
Why had he come here now, bringing
fresh trouble? For the first time in
her life Elsie felt angry with him.
"Why are you here again, Harold?"
she cried, when he was stand
ing there in front of her.
"When I gave you that last
money you promised to stay away al
together, and try and get something to
do. Yet here you are once more, and
this time I cannot help you. Why,
why do you come? Uncle John would
be furious at finding you here."
"But he is away, Elsie," the young
man answered breathlessly. "Girlie,
you must help me, just this once. I
promise solemnly never to worry you
again!"
"You have promised solemnly be
fore, Harold," his sister said bitterly..
"I cannot help you, I say. We are all
ruined. The bank has been robbed."
The startle* look on his white face
caused her to cease speaking.
"Is it trse, Elsie?" he asked hoarse
ly. "Kas the bank really been
robbed?"
She told him what she knew, he lis
tening impatiently.
"I must have money, girlie!" he
burst out. "I must have it! I must
get away from here tonight, and
don't possess a single farthing! Quick
dear. Uncle left you some for house
keeping. That will have to do."
"I don't possess a single farthing ei
ther," she persisted. "What is the mat
ter, Harold? Why is it so terribly
necessary for you to leave Blackmore
tonight?"
Their eyes met—hers clear, straight
forward, honest his weak and ner
vous.
"Uncle will be coming back to see
about the bank, Elsie," he muttered
queerly. "He must hot find me here.'
No, it would only add to the bitteV
ness of his return. But what could
she do?
"I have it!" the desperate brother
suddenly exclaimed. "Elsie, this news
about the bank robbery is still exclu
sive. The editor of the Blackmore
Times would give you any sum for it.
He is enterprising, and always ready
for something startling at first hand.
This is our only chance, dear."
But Elsie would not see it in that
light for a long, long time. It was not
until her brother had fully enlarged on
the grim necessity of the case, not un
til he had forced her to plainly under
stand the consequences if he did not
have money at once, that she finauy
consented to go to the editor of the
Blackmore Times.
Harold Maitland had a smart, cun
ning tongue on this occasion he had
indeed used it well. As he prophesied,
the editor literally grabbed at the
"copy," especially after he had fairly
convinced himself that his would be
the first paper to publish the startling
news on the morrow. Elsie went wear
ily home with the much-needed money
in her pocket. Harold was awaiting in
hiding for her, and pounced down eag
erly on the gold.
II.
An hour after his departure their
uncle's manager came to the house and
asked to see Elsie. When he was ad
mitted into her presence he noticed
with a sharp pang how wan and deso
late her little face had grown.
Poor child! Such things as these
were hard for her to have to bear. How
he wished that he could save her ail
care and annoyance in the future! For
with the whole of his stout, loyal
heart he loved her.
He showed her a telegram which he
had received from her uncle.
"Returning at once," it said. "Keep
news of robbery out of the papers at
any price till I see you."
Elsie read the words, or, rather, they
chased cach other before her dizzy,
aching eyes. She suddenly tottered
forward and fell in a dead faint.
Next morning huge posters appear
ed from the offices of the Blackmore
'l imes, making public the robbery.
Newsboys shouted it frantically from
one street to another. Soon a big
crowd had gathered outside the bank,
clamoring for the doors to be opened.
They wanted their money back,
tlieir liard-won earnings, and they
meant to get it. That exclusive news
sold by Elsie Maitland on the previous
evening to the editor of the Blackmore
'I imes had caused an appalling run on
lier uncle's bank.
k. -t.
The dodrs wfere opened at last the
crowd surged in, presenting checks to
the full amount they had deposited in
the bank. They looked astonished
when the gold came over the counter
in their direction. Clearly they had
expected to be turned away penniless.
They thanked their stars for being the
first. The bank could not go on pay
ing out for long, of that they felt sure.
At noon Elsie and her uncle drove
up to the front entrance in an open
carriage. He had insisted on her ac
companying him, despite the fact that
she looked wretchedly pale and ill.
All the way along they had seen
those hideous posters announcing .ae
robbery.
"How did they get the news?" John
Rivers kept repeating. "Elsie, child,
how did they get the news? It is a
mystery to me. If only it could have
been kept from them another twenty
four hours I could have weathered the
storm."
Poor Elsie's heart ached.
"I have done it!" she cried. "The
fault is mine—mine! Oh, Harold,
only I could have foreseen all this! If
only I could have foreseen it all!"
III.
As yet Elsie had not told her uncle
who supplied the news to the paper.
She prayed fervently that she might
be able to keep the knowledge to her
self forever, safely hidden from the
fond old man who believed in her. Fate
would decide.
For hours she sat in a little room
over the bank, listening to the persist
ent clamorings below for gold.
How much longer could it go on?
"Not much longer!" John Rivers
said ejectedly to his suffering niece.
"Not much longer, Elsie, my girl. They
must have paid it nearly all out by
now. Soon they will have to close the
doors. Don't cry, child. It is the will of
Providence, I suppose, but it's hard to
get such a blow as this at my time of
life!"
Presently there were sounds of
cheering in the street. A
well-known
millionaire had driven up to the bank.
"My God!" muttered the old banker.
"This is the last straw! Reginald Fair
fax has turned against me with the
rest when he has withdrawn his mon
ey there won't be a.penny left!"
"Go and see him, uncle," Elsie plead
ed. "He is so rich he might be per
suaded to leave it."
"No, child. I could not speak to him
or any one else today."
"Then I will, uncle. Oh. do go and
send him here to me! I must see him!
Reginald will save us!"
John Rivers went blindly out, and
Elsie waited for Reginald Fairfax to
come to her. Twice this self-made
1
jj
I MUST HAVE MONEY,
man has asked her to marry him
twice she had refused. He was rich,
but he was also coarse. Life with him
would be a nightmare, she had al
ways told herself. She did not love
him.
But now
He was standing there in front of
her, loudly dressed, and looking more
commonplace and vulgar than ever.
How could she appeal to this boorish
parvenu? She must, though she had
worked the mischief, and she must
right it if possible.
At the end of another five minutes
she was telling him everything—all
about her brother and her selling the
news of the robbery to the editor. He
listened in silence. She humbled her
self to the dust before him, and begged
him not to withdraw his money from
the bank.
He smiled queerly.
"You twice asked me to be your
wife," she wound up feverishly, "and
I refused you. Would you still mar
ry me, Mr. Fairfax? Oh, do answer!
If I said 'yes,' would you still marry
me?"
The smile broadened.
"Am I to understand that you are
proposing to me, Miss Maitland?" he
asked.
"Don't seek to humble me any more
don't, don't!" she cried. "I have fallen
far enough!"
"Yes," he said "it iAust indeed be a
terrible fall for the proud Miss Mail
land to offer herself to me! You of
fer to become my wife if I will only
leave my money in your uncle's bank.
Considering that I love you—and that
you love someone else—it is rather
hard on me, isn't it?"
"Oh, don't, don't! If you only knew
how I loathe myself for having said
all this to you. You are quite right to
refuse me. How dare I ask you—or
any man—to take me under such con
ditions? You are quite right to refuse
me."
"I don't know," he answered slow
ly. "If you did not love another man
already it might have been different.
^^4^ -.'''V
^..-r:vv-V.,,.
it
-f
But as It is—yes, I certainly won't
marry you, Miss Maitland you have
humbled yourself to me unnecessarily.
You cannot know me very well when
you imagine that I had come to with
draw my support from your uncle at
such a time as this. Instead, I had
merely come to place the further sum
of £50,000 to my account. The public
knows It already, and the paying into
the bank of such a large sum has re
stored confidence."
Ere she 'had time to speak he was
gone.
But the bank was saved! The bank
was saved! A man she had always
despised in her heart had come for
ward and saved it. Why—why had
she never been able before to see the
fine nature which lurked beneath a
somewhat boorish exterior.
The excitebent of that day was fol
lowed by a long illness for her. When
she returned to life once more it was
to find her uncle in better spirits than
she could ever remember him.
"All the doing of Reginald Fairfax,
Elsie, my girl!" the old banker said,
gleefully. "He stuck to me right
through, child, when everyone else
failed me, and his example saved the
bank.
He had further persuaded old John
Rivers to make a partner of his long
trusted manager. He was therefore in
a position at last to ask Elsie's hand
in marriage. When he asked her she
answered "Yes."
Some months after their marriage
Elsie received another visit from her
brother Harold. He was altogether
a different person. He was going to
America, and had come to make a con
fession to her.
He had sold his knowledge of their
uncle and the bank to a certan gang of
thieves for a large sum of money. But
he had never known a happy minute
since, and he had never touched a
farthing of the ill-gotten cash. He
was going to America now, to start
life in earnest, and when his sister
asked him where he had found the
necessary funds he told her that the
donor was Reginald Fairfax.
TARANTULA SHEDS ITS SKIN.
Insect Increases In Size Each Time
She Molts.
From the Country Gentleman: An
event of more than' ordinary interest
occurred in my office yesterday noon.
A large female tarantula shed its skin
for the second time since it has been in
captivity. Those familiar with insects,
spiders and related creatures are aware
that they are incased by a hard, un
yielding integument. Increase of size'
is permissible only when the old skin
is shed and one that has been newly
formed beneath expands to the requi
site degree. This is a process con
stantly occurring in nature, and ever
excites interest in the beholder. When
a large spider three inches long throws
off the old integument it is a thrilling
sight. In the present case the taran
tula had evidently been feeling unwell
for some days, a condition frequently
preceding this process among insects,
and yesterday morning she was found
lying on her back and apparently dead,
but moved a little upon being disturb
ed. She lay thus until about 12:15,
when the rustling her movements made
excited attention. The old skin had
then ruptured around the thorax in
such a manner that the top could be
removed entire, and through this open
ing the giant spider was literally
working out of her old skin. This was
accomplished by the aid of her eight
legs and the two leg-like palpi. At the
end of an hour the change had been
effected. The spider lay upon her
back, beside the perfect skin, resting
from the severe exertion.
This tarantula was unusually large
before she molted, and is now of still
greater size. She came north in a
bunch of bananas about two and a half
years ago, and until last January was
the pet of Dr. J. M. Bigelow. While
under his care one skin was shed and
is now in my possession. An idea of
the increase in size attendant upon
molting may be gained by comparing
the dimensions of the dorsal piece of
the skin shed about the latter part of
1896, when under the care of Dr. Bige
low, and the one shed yesterday. The
first measures one inch and the sec
one measures one and a quarter inches.
Therefore, the present dorsal piece will
probably be proportionately larger
when fully expanded.
She Couldn't Mitm the Chance.
Mrs. Drayton—Ah, well, it has al
ways been my dearest wish to grow old
gracefully. Mrs. Winston—Is that so,
dear? I'm awfuHy sorry for you. Mrs.
Drayton—You are sorry for me? Why?
Mrs. Winston—Because your dearest
wish has been to grow old gracefully.
Of course you'll never have a chance to
try it over and make use of the prac
tice you've had.
He Kneir It.
The Good Man—Do you know that
there are breakers ahead of you? The
Wicked One—Ye—hie—yes. I s'pose
my—hie—wife and her mother'll break
my—hie—head when I git home.
Physicians are called upon to pre
scribe for the imagination oftener than
anything else. .....
JJfJe
WSt'Mtaw*. sr.-
A BRIDE'S SORROW.
She Had Lost Her Own Perfectly LOT*
ij Name.
She had been married just two weeks
and cruel fate had torn him away from
her for two whole hours, says the New
York Commercial Advertiser. She had
planned what she would do. She had
a new book and a box of candy and
some embroidery and she nobly re
solved to bid him good-by cheerfully
and not have tear-stained eyes when
he returned either. She rode down to
the station with him and he kissed
her good-by. She watched him get into
the train and her eyes grew misty.
Two hours! If he missed the train he
might be gone two hours and twenty
minutes. What did he want to see that
horrid lawyer for, anyhow? Surely a
lawsuit, even one that involved money,
was a small matter to take him away
from his bride of a fortnight. The
train moved slowly out of the station.
He stood on the platform, waving his
hat and throwing kisses to her, ob
livious of the amusement of the bag
gagemen on the station platform. She
watched the train swing around the
curve and cross the bridge. Suppose
the bridge should break? The train
would plunge into the river and he
would be drowned. But the rumble
was far oft now. The bridge was
crossed in safety. She wished she had
not married. She had always thought
that widows must feel that way. What
was the use of marrying only to be
bereft of one's husband? She had
been very happy as a girl. Very happy,
indeed. Why had she given up her
care-free existence to be the lonely
wife of a man who cared more for
money and lawyers than he did for
her? Why had she done it? Simply
to please him, because it was easier to
comply than refuse. A boy whizzing
by on a bicycle stopped and handed her
a letter. She looked at the superscrip
tion, "Mrs Sidney Willis," and groaned
in spirit. Even her name, her pretty
aritocratic name, of which all her
family was so proud, was gone. How
chilly and formal and lonely it would
be to be always called Mrs. Willis and
never be Miss Dolly Van Schaick again.
She had reached the house now and
she wandered disconsolately upstairs.
She thought of all the pretty things
that had been said of and to Miss Van
Schaick and the more she thought of
it the more bitterly did she bemoan
her lost name. She forgot her em1
broidery and her candy and her book
and gave herself up to tears. She
didn't even hear the whistle of the
train from New Rochelle. At last there
was a knock at the door. "Go away,"
sobbed the unhappy Mrs. Willis. "But
Dolly, it's me—it's I—it's Dick. What
is the matter?" besought Mr. Willis
through the keyhole. Then she opened
the door and told him. He was offend
ed. It took a good many kisses and
explanations to make him appreciate
the superiority of Van Schaick to Wil-.
lis. But, once convinced, he sym
pathized with her and consented to call
her Miss Van Schaick for a month "un
til the novelty wore off."
Poet Poe Not Expelled from College.
William H. Browne writes the fol
lowing letter to the Baltimore News:
"I see a paragraph going the rounds of
the papers to the effect that it is rer
markable that Edgar A. Poe should be
honored by a bust erected in the uni
versity from which he was expelled. It
has been shown again and again that
Poe was never expelled from the Uni
versity of Virginia. Mr. J. H. Ingram,
the author of a well-known life of the
poet, wrote to Mr. William Werten
baker, secretary of the faculty, to in
quire about Poe's conduct and stand
ing, and that gentleman, who was
librarian during Poe's residence and
knew him well, replied, not from mem
ory only, but after searching the rec
ords, that 'at no time did he fall under
the censure of the faculty.'" Mr. Wood
bury, another biographer, says that
during Poe's residence 'he did not
come under the notice of the faculty,
which is stated to have been at that
time unusually watchful and strict.'
The Joys of Childhood.
Johnny and Tommy, who are the
noisiest children in Yorkville, were
playing. "Let's play on this doorstep,"
suggested Tommy. "No," Jimmy said,
"there isn't any fun in doing that.
That's an empty house. Let's go down
the street and play. I know where
there's a newspaper man's house. He
works all night and sleeps in the day
time." And the pair of cherubs started
off to the spot where the maker of
thoughts for seventy million ladies and
gentlemen was trying to replenish his
empty think tank by the balmy sleep
process.
Could She Talk!
"Can she talk, old man?" "Can she?
Why, last summer, in the mountains,
she didn't even let the echo have the
last word."—Puck.
Anxlou* to larn.
She—They say the Cllppersons have
always lived away beyond their means.
He—I wonder if we could get them to
show us how? ......
.4 I
.• »'..?, •!l :.rv •. ^.i,''N.
CatarrhCured
Blood Purified by Hood's Sarsapa
rllla and Health Is Cood.
"I was a sufferer from catarrh. One of
my neighbors advised me to take Hood's
Sarsaparilla and I did so. A few bottles
purified my blood and cured me. I bav*
remained in good health ever since." JAS.
T. ADKINS, Athensville, Illinois.
Hood's Sarsaparilla
Is America's Greatest Medicine. 91 six for $B.
Hood's Pills
cure all Liver Ills. 25 cents.
A Wonder.
"When that man came to this town,"
said Rivers, "he hadn't a rag to bis
back. Look at him now."
Brooks walked to the window, looked
in the direction indicated, and saw a
swarthy son of Italy walking down the
street bending beneath the weight of a
sack of rags three or four times his
size, strapped to his back.
The historian regrets to have to re
cord the fact that this led to another
quarrel betwen the two old friends.—
Chicago Tribune.
Mrs. Winslow'a Soothing Syrup.
For children teething, softens the gums, reduces ln
(lamination, allays pain, curei wind colic. 35c a bottle.
Rlarorons Siriu School Laws.
If a child in Switzerland does not at
tend school on a particular day the
parent gets a notice from the public
authority that he Is fined so many
francs the second day the fine is in
creased, and by the third day the
amount has become a serious one. In
case of sickness the pupil is excused)
but if there is any suspicion of sham
ming a doctor is sent. If the suspi
cion proves to be well founded the pa
rent is required to pay the cost of the
doctor's visit.
While there's life there's Soap—Dia
mond "C" Soap.
Danger in Potassium.
A singular accident has been re
ported from a chemical factory, where
a workman's clothes became saturated
with dust from the grinding of chlo
rate of potassium. A spark from the
workman's pipe fell on the clothes,
when the entire suit flashed into flame,
producing fatal results.
A lie often cripples where a cannon
would be ineffective.
A baggabemaster checks your trunk
and a physician checks your grippe.
The lazier a man is th eharder it is
to discourage him.
THE EXCELLENCE OF SYKUP OF FIGS
is due not only to the originality and
simplicity of the combination, but also
to the care and skill with which it is
manufactured by scientific processes
known to the CALIFOBNIA Fia SYRUP
Co. only, and we wish to impress upon
all the importance of purchasing the
true and original remedy. As the
genuine Syrup of Figs is manufactured
by the CALIFORNIA FIG SYBUP CO.
only, a knowledge of that fact will
assist one in avoiding the worthless
imitations manufactured by other par
ties. The high standing of the CALI
FORNIA FIG SYRUP CO. with the medi
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which the genuine Syrup of Figs has
given to millions of families, makes
the name of the Company a guaranty
of the excellence of its remedy. It is
far in advance of all other laxatives,
as it acts on the kidneys, liver and
bowels without irritating or weaken
ing them, and it does not gripe nor
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effects, please remember the name of
the Company—
CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP CO.
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tun 30th Cores. Prosecuting Claims since 1878
nPODQY
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PATrilT secured Or manfy nil returned. Roflrchfree.
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Wash. D.C.
When Answering Advertisements Kindly
Mention This Taper.
N. D. N. If —No 49—
1808.