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Willmar tribune. (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, April 27, 1910, Image 7

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N a niche above a door
way In a great house
in Now York city a
marble statue of a
woman holds a little
child close to her
breast. Beneath her,
through a swinging
door that has not been
locked in 40 years,
women pass in to the
Foundling hospital with
their babies in their arms and com©
out with their arms empty. A single
white cradle in the entry of a bare
reception room receives and rescues
nearly 2,000 babies a year. Two
thousand men and women are the
number of a village community Here
in the home of deserted children are
the things which are eternal—the
tears, the laughter and the joys.
"It is the little children we must
save," one of the matrons said. "We
keep them from privation, from cru
elty, even from death—the little ba
bies nobody wants. We are just trying to give
them their chance. We hope to preserve the
mothers from greater sin, from the life of the
streets, from the doors of prison, but it is the
babies that count. We re»«t save our babies"
The law of this country will not permit the
giving or selling of little children, but it cannot
protect them from desertion The foundling hos
pitals in our big cities are the state's efforts to
play the part of universal motherhood, to care
for the children who are thrown on her mercy
and who will help make her future
The room where the mothers relinquish their
babies is called the saddest place in New York.
There is nothing in the receiving room but the
little cradle, and no one in sight. A matron is
always in waiting near by. She never forces a
mother to confession, but, if possible, persuades
her to tell why she wishes to desert her child,
and perhaps influences her not to give it up, but
to begin life over again. A mother must under
stand that the choice is with her—the matron
may give the mother 10 or 15 minutes in which
to decide—but the choice is final. If the mother
wishes it, and it can be arranged, she is often
taken into the hospital with her baby and allowed
to nurse it, by having charge of another of the
tiny children and helping with one older child
There are now 300 mother nurses working in the
New York home, and there have been as many as
five or six hundred at other times. The mother
who comes into the hospital to work can often
prove her fitness to have her baby back again
But once she puts it down in the rescue cradle
and goes out the ever open door the baby belongs
to her no longer she may never see or hear of it
again. The child belongs to the state. No prayer
nor entreaty, no pleading of circumstance, will
afterward avail The child has entered a world
that shall never know its origin. Somewhere a
future waits for it, but the baby is to have no
knowledge of its beginning outside its adoption
in the Foundling home
A bath and clean clothes are the first signs of
the baby's adoption in the Foundling home. A
doctor next inspects the little person to see that
it shall not carry a contagion to any of the thou
sands of small brothers and sisters who are wait
ing for it outside the walls of the reception ward.
Two or three weeks the baby may be detained in
the reception quarters—the smaller the baby the
less danger of contagious diseases—or as many
days. Then it becomes either an Indoor or an
outdoor baby.
There are 600 indoor babies being cared for
inside the New York City Foundling homo. It is
necessary to board on the outside 1,200 more
Seven thousand four hundred and twenty-four little
foundlings have been looked after in the past two
years, and there are relatively as many in Boston,
In Chicago, in Philadelphia—in every large city
in America
In Europe there are an even greater number
of foundling babies. The European states take
charge of the deserted waifs, but the mother is
only permitted to bring her child to an entrance
way, ring a bell and give it into the arms of the
attendant who opens the door—and go away
without a word.
In the homes of love, of wealth and happiness
there are no sounder, sweeter babies than the
deserted children of the foundling homes. The
babies are so far untroubled by their situation in
life and have not the institution look of older
children What is the institution look? It trans
lates itself the expression of a cramped individ
uality, of a longing for a more personal expres
sion the look of too much routine, of drilling, of
the law without the spirit.
But the babies know of no difference between
themseHes and other children, and many times
before thpy wake to the thought a home has been
found for them Nearly 500 babies a year from
the New York Foundling home are adopted by
private families all parts of the country. They
prove in their lives that it does not matter in
this world how wo are born, "it is just the way
we're eddicated."
"Nobody but a baby lover would adopt one of
our babies older children may be taken by fami
lies and made into drudges, but who would adopt
a tiny child except for love?" one of the sisters
at the hospital said.
There is a wonderfully wide choice in babies,
for they are taken into the home without regard
to nationality, to creed or color so there are pink
and white blond babies, brown-haired, black-eyed
babies, girls with curls and boys with round,
close-cropped heads.
The children wear no kind of uniform. The
little girls have as big bows of red and blue and
pink ribbon on their hair as the most fashionable
little person who lives round the corner on Fifth
The clothes of several thousand children are
an important consideration. Think of what a
single baby's trousseau means at home. Fortu
nately, home babies outgrow their clothes and
pass them on to other babies. There are all sizes
to be fitted at the Foundling home. In the last
The National Colors.
"Why are you looking so white?
"I just had my future read."
"Gee! It must look blue."
The Philosopher of Folly.
"Men," observes the Philosopher of
Folly, "are in one respect a good deal
like chickens. Aa soon as they begin
drinking up go their bills."
two years New York's outdoor babies have re
ceived 100,000 little garments and inside the poor
mothers and babies have been equally well sup
How many buttons do you suppose need to
be sewed on? Here is a charity no one can dis
pute—sewing for the babies Sisters and nurses
can only look after their health and happiness
Deserted babies can count on friends, if other
things in life have failed them. Hundreds of rich
society women in New York, who have seam
stresses to sew for their own children* work for
the Foundling babies Sewing classes meet in
private homes, their sole purpose devoted to the
wants of the hospital's children. Twelve hundred
little garments were the gift of a single class
The babies have every-day clothes, and dress-up
clothes when visitors come, like the rest of .the
world. The churches also have sewing circles
devoted to the trousseaus of the deserted babies.
Money for materials for their clothes comes from
women who find this the simplest way of helping
with such extensive wardrobes Occasionally a
shop will send something to help clothe a baby.
New York gives a quarter of a million dollars
a year to look after her foundling babies, and
forty thousand more is contributed. The Found
ling hospital extends from one end of a long block
to the other, and besides its nursery buildings
has a quarantine hospital and a hospital for oper
ations and for the treatment or ordinary diseases.
The Foundling hospital must not only care for
the waifs deserted at its doors, but also for the
babies sent by the department of charities, the
Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children and
the courts.
There are three groups of babies, from the
few weeks old to those three or four years, and
they have their separate quarters the runabouts
are th» children from 18 months to two years
old and the grown-up babies, as old as three or
four, are the kindergarten children. The recep
tion room is the schoolroom—a long room full of
tiny desks and tables, the walls lined with pic
tures and corners Diled with splendid tovs. In
the middle of the room is a parrot in a gpia cage
who talks and sings like the children.
The foundling babies who are brought up in
side the institution know nothing of the perils
and joys of the street. In connection with each
of the nurseries there is a roof garden, where the
children take their air and exercise. The Found
ling baby has a scientific bringing up that may
give it a better chance for health than the home
baby reared in affectionate ignorance. Doctors,
nurses and matrons study its life from hour to
hour. The most vital principle in modern thought
is the effort that is being made in every direction
to start the child on the right way.
With all its wealth of babies to care for, the
Foundling hospital does more for the baby's
health than the average mother. As each child
is received at the hospital its weight is regis
tered, together with the name and number of the
baby, on a weight chart. The weekly weighing
of all babies is an established feature of the hos
pital care. Physicians regard the weighing of
babies as of utmost importance in the proper care
of a baby's health. The sick baby is judged by
its loss of weight the well baby by its increase.
Sick babies are weighed oftener—sometimes ev
ery second day. Notes of the baby's illness are
kept on the back of its weight card.
The Infants Science Academy, which is now
discussed in New York city as a possible way
to sa\e the babies from the ignorance of mothers,
wishes to establish the same scientific method
for the care of all little children that is applied
in the Foundling home. Each mother is to be
taught to keep a chart of her baby's condition,
not in any special class of society—rich and poor
alike—and this chart is to be submitted weekly
to a baby's academy to be inspected by boards
of baby specialists
Foundling babies are always in charge of spe
cialists. Important books on children's diseases
have come from the study of the unwelcome ba
bies. Not only do the students and physicians on
the staff of the hospital work with the children,
but nearly all the city's prominent doctors have
served the hospital as consulting or attending
physicians. In special cases physicians come from
the outside to study the mysterious causes, the
mysterious expressions of baby diseases, which
are borne in silence, or expressed only in inar
ticulate sounds.
The outdoor baby is the surplus baby. Not
always because the Foundling home has no room
for it, but because the baby often needs what
the hospital cannot give.
"Little babies live on love. I don't mean thin
as a sentiment I mean it as a fact a tiny baby
lives on the love that cuddles it„ that warms and
feeds it. To take it into the hospital without a
mother means it may die. If an outside nurse
is found to care for it, the baby often grows
healthy, strong and happy in her charge."
Women who have lost their own babies, or
respectable women who desire to earn a small'
living by nursing, are the foster mothers of the
Necessary Violence.
"How d|d William get along at his
friend's, when he played Santa Claus
"I understand he was decidedly put
"Indeed! What happened to have
him put out?"
lie set himself on *re."
Matchett—The girl who just passed
in that blue auto was the rich Miss
Pendershute. Do you think she's
Weigles—Well, if I was her chauf
feur, I'd never lose control of the ma*
chine by looking around to admire
foundling babies who are brought up
outside the hospital. They must be
able to show a clear record of health
and character and obey the rules of
the hospital for the care of the child.
Once a month the outside nurse comes
to the hospital with the child in her
charge to be examined by a physician,
but in case of sudden illness she must
make an immediate report
One hundred and forty thousand
dollars a year goes toward paying for
these outside nurses—at a rate of $10
apiece—nearly one-half of the found
ling babies' income. When the child
is three or four it must be retarned
to the hospital one of the rules of the
institution is that no child may be
adopted by the woman who acted as
its nurse.
"Italian women make the most successful moth*
ers for the delicate babies," one of the head ma
trons explained. "There is something in their
warm-hearted temperaments, in their natural sense
of motherhood, that helps the frail baby to thrive."
Colored children are taken care of by colored
women until they reach the required age, when
the girls go to a home in Baltimore and the boys
to Nebraska, where they are educated to trades.
Sixty-six babies boarded a car for New Orleans
a few weeks ago and started gaily off on a voyage
of discovery. They were on their way to find their
mammas and papas. The babies are taught
through the years when they are kept in the found
ling home that somewhere waiting for them in the
world outside are mothers and fathers, and some
day they are to go to find them.
Many years ago, on a cold winter night, a phy
sician sent to the New York Foundling hopital for
the youngest baby who was healthy and promising
He only wanted to borrow the baby for a few
weeks A patient had given birth to a child and
the baby had died. The mother was desperately
ill, and the news of the death of her baby would
possibly cause her death.
A beautiful baby boy two weeks old had that
day been left at the Foundling home. The baby
was wrapped in blankets and taken away to one
of the wealthiest homes in New York. For a month
or more the sick mother nursed this baby, think
ing him her own. When she was well enough the
truth was told her, but the borrowed baby was
never returned. In the weeks of her suffering, the
touch of its little lips and the clasp of its hands
had made it in truth her baby.
This year the boy graduated with honor from
an eastern college as the oldest son of a promi
nent man a large sum of money for the foundling
babies came as a gift from an "unknown friend."
Two agents, whose work It is to find mothers
and fathers for the waiting babies, are a part of
the regular staff of the Foundling home. They
work through other agents all over the country,
through churches and missions and children's aid
societies the appeal is universal. Do you want
a baby? Here is a lost baby looking for a mother
and father. You may have any kind you desire.
Descriptions and requirements may be written to
the staff at the hospital, and you may have just
the baby you are looking for.
You may require the color of hair, eyes, or even
specify the disposition. Usually the asylum has
more than it can fill. Girls are asked for in about
twice the ratio of boys. Blue-eyed girls are the
greatest in demand, and a "sweet" disposition is
almost always one of the specifications.
One woman wrote to the asylum from a town
within easy travel of New York. "We are plain
people," she began. "The height of our ambition
has been to have a house of our own. Now we
have it, all furnished as we have wished. Yet we
are not content. Our home is so perfectly orderly
that we have decided that we need someone td
make it sweetly disorderly."
Four or five times a year, 40 or 50 babies start
off in a little band in quest of homes. The babies
are sent to any part of the country.
Nurses and attendants travel with the babies,
who are distributed to agents who wait to place
them in homes along the way. But the child is
not to lose its connection with the Foundling home
Until the children are grown they are still looked
after, and their care and future guarded by the
supervision of the agents who make yearly visits
to their homes and the matrons who keep in con
stant communication with them through letters.
Many times the adopted baby comes to mean to
a family all that their own baby could have meant
Thousands of letters come back to the matron from
the foster mothers and fathers of the babies.
"After God, dear sister," an adopted mother
writes, "it is to you I owe my darling child, so I
will ask him to bless you forever."
"Dear sister, I feel it my duty to let you heat
from us, in regard to our little boy and girl. My
husband and I often wonder can it be possible that
they are not our own children, when we see their
sweet, loving faces. If God will spare us to raise
them, we feel confident that they will be a credit
to all and a comfort and pride to us in years to
Children write home to the sisters of their hap
piness and growing outlook on life. In most cases
the child is made to understand its connection with
the Foundling home.
A little girl in the busy days of her school life
wants to tell of her success. "As it is so long since
I heard from you, I thought I would write and tell
you that I am well, and that I have just completed
my first year at school. I have the highest average
in my class, it being 93 per cent, for the whole
year. As I was the only girl in the high school
perfect in attendance I received a pretty gold
medal as a reward."
Happy endings come of many stories with
tragic beginnings. The unwelcome baby finds a
welcome somewhere, makes a place for itself some
how, in a world that failed it at the start.
The Proper Place.
"Where on earth did you ever gw
such a flaming hat feather?"
"At a fire sale,"
Ere You Flutter.
The whole wide world's preparing'
So the papers say, to fly
But before you do your flying
Tou must be prepared t8_MMP
Miss Patricia Holbrook and Miss Helen
Holbrook, her niece, were entrusted to
the care of Laurance Donovan, a writer,
summering near Port Annandale Miss
Patricia confided to Donovan tha? she
feared her brother Henry, who, ruinett Uy
a bank failure, had constantly threateswl
her. Donovan discovered and captured
an intruder, who proved to be Reginald
Gillespie, suitor for the hand of Helen,
Donovan saw Miss Holbrook and her fa
ther meet on friendly terms. Donovan
(ought an Italian assassin. He met the
man he supposed was Holbrook, but wh»
said "he was Hartridge, a canoe-maker.
Miss Pat announced her intention of
fighting Henry Holbrook and not seeking
another hiding place. Donovan met Helen
in garden at night. Duplicity of Helen
was confessed by the young lady. At
night, disguised as a nun, Helen stole
from the house. She met Reginald Gil
lespie, who told her his love. Gillespie
was confronted by Donovan. At the town
postofflce Helen, unseen except by Dono
van, slipped a draft for her father into
the hand of the Italian sailor. A young
lady resembling Miss Helen Holbrook
was observed alone in a canoe, when
Helen was thought to have been at home.
Gillespie admitted giving Helen $20,000 for
her father, who had then left to spend It.
Miss Helen and Donovan met in the
night. She told him Gillespie was nothing
to her. He confessed his love for her.
Donovan found Gillespie gagged and
bound in a cabin, inhabited by the vil
lainous Italian and Holbrook. He released
him. Both Gillespie and Donovan ad
mitted love for Helen. Calling herself
Rosalind a "voice" appealed to Donovan
for help She told him to go to the canoe
maker's home and see that no injury be
fell him. He went to Red Gate.
At the canoe-maker's home, Donovan
found the brothers—Arthur and Henry
Holbrook—who had fought each other, in
consultation "Rosalind" appeared. Ar
thur averted a murder Donovan return
ing, met Gillespie alone in the dead of
night. On investigation he found Henry
Holbrook, the sailor, and Miss Helen en
gaged in an argument It was settled
and they departed Donovan met the
real Rosalind, who by night he had sup
posed to be Miss Helen Holbrook. She
revealed the mix-up Her father, Arthur
Holbrook, was the canoe-maker, while
Helen's father was Henry Holbrook, the
erring brother. The cousins, Helen and
Rosalind, were as much alike as twins.
Thus Helen's supposed duplicity was ex
plained. Helen visited Donovan, asking
his assistance in bringing Miss Patricia
Holbrook and Henry Holbrook together
for a settlement of their money affairs,
which had kept them apart for many
years. Donovan refused to aid. He met
CHAPTER XX.—Continued.
He was at once cane and serious,
and replied, soberly:
"I never doubted that it was Arthur.
It he wasn't guilty, why did he run
away? It was a queer business, and
father never mentioned it. Henry gave
out the impression that my father had
taken advantage of Holbrook Brothers
and forced their failure but father
shut up and never told me anything."
"But you have the notes—"
"Yes, but I'm not to open them, yet.
I can't tell you about that now." He
grew red and played with his cravat,
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I've just had them sent to me
they're in the bank at Annandale.
There's another thing you may not
know. Old man Holbrook, who lived
to be older than the hills, left a pro
vision In his will that adds to the com
plications. Miss Pat may have men
tioned that stuff in her father's will
abcut the honor of the brothers—"
"Bhe just mentioned it. Please tell
me what you know of it."
He took out his pocket-book and
read me this paragraph from a news
paper cutting:
And the said one million dollars herein
before specifically provided for shall, aft
er the lapse of ten years, be divided be
tween my said eons Henry and Arthur
Holbrook, share and share alike but if
either of my said sons shall have been
toeched by dishonor through his own
act, as honor is accounted, reckoned and
Valued among men, my said daughter Pa
tricia to be the sole judge thereof, then
he shall forfeit his share of said amount
thus withheld, and the whole of said sum
of one million dollars shall be adjudged
to belong to the other son.
Gillespie lighted a cigarette and
smoked quietly for several minutes,
and when he spoke it was with deep
"I love that girl, Donovan. I be
lieve she cares for me, or would if she
could get out of all these entangle
ments. I'm almost ready to burn that
packet and tell Miss Pat she's got to
settle with Henry and be done with it.
Let him spend his money and die in
disgrace and go to the devil anything
ks better than all this secrecy and mys
tery that enmeshes Helen. I'm going
to end it I'm going to end it!"
We had gone to the library, and he
threw himself down in the chair from
which she had spoken of him so short
a time before that I seemed still to
feel her presence in the room.
"Cheer up, lad! If we can't untie
the knot we'll lose no time cutting the
string. There may be some fun in
this business before we get through
with it."
I began telling him of some of my
own experiences, and won him to a
cheerier mood. When we came round
to the Holbrooks again his depression
had passed, and we were on the best
of terms.
"But there's one thing we can't get
away from, Donovan. I've got to pro
tect Helen don't you see? I've got to
take care of her, whatever comes."
"But you can't take care of her fa
ther. He's hopeless."
"I could give him this money my
self, couldn't I? I can do it, and I've
about concluded that I ought to do it."
"But that would be a waste. It
would be like giving whisky to a
drunkard. Money has been at the bot
tom of all this trouble."
Gillespie threw up his hands with a
gesture of helplessness.
"I shall undoubtedly lose such wits
as I have if we don't get somewhere
in this business pretty soon. But,
Donovan, there's something I want to
ask you. I don't like to speak of it,
but when we were coming away from
that infernal island, after our scrap
with the dago, there were two people
Walking on the bluff—a man and a
woman, and the woman was nearest
us. She seemed to be purposely put
ting herself in the man's way so we
couldn't see him. It didn't seem pos
sible that Helen could be there—but?"
He clearly wished to be assured,
and I answered at once:
"t saw them it couldn't have been
Helen, It was merely a similarity of,
A Blue Cloak and a Scarlet.
Miss Pat asked me to dine at St.
Agatha's that night. The message
came unexpectedly—a line on one of
those quaint visiting-cards of hers,
brought by the gardener and when. I
had penned my acceptance I at once
sent the following message by Ijima
to the boat-maker's house at Red
"To Rosalind at Red Gate: It is im
portant for you to appear with me at the
Port Annandale casino to-night, and to
meet Reginald Gillespie there. He is
pledged to refer in no way to family af
fairs. If he should attempt to, you need
only remind him of his promise. He will
imagine that you are some one else, so
please be careful not to tax his imagina
tion too far. There is much at stake
which I will explain later. You are to re
fuse nothing that he may offer you. I
shall come into the creek with the launch
and call for you at Red Gate.
"The casino dances are very informal.
A plain white gown and a few ribbons.
But don't omit your emerald."
I was not sure where this project
would lead me, but I committed myself
to it with a fair conscience. I reached
St Agatha's just as dinner was an
nounced and we went out at once to
the small dining room ased by the sis-
"I Am Tired sf Being Cooped Up Here."
figure. I couldn't distinguish her face
at all. Very likely they were Port An
nandale cottagers."
"I thought so myself," he replied,
evidently relieved. It did not seem
necessary to tell him of Rosalind at
Red Gate that was my secret, and I
was not yet ready to share it.
"I've got to talk to somebody, and
I want to tell you something, Donovan.
I can't deny that there are times when
Helen doesn't seem—well, all that I
have thought here at other times.
Sometimes she seems selfish and hard,
and all that. And I know she hasn't
treated Miss Pat right it Isn't square
for her to take Miss Pat's bounty and
then work against her. But I make
allowances, Donovan."
"Of course," I acquiesced, wishing
to cheer him. "So do I. She has been
hard put in this business. And a man's
love can't always be at par—or a wom
an's either! The only thing a man
ought to exact of the woman he mar
ries is that she put up a cheerful
breakfast-table. Nothing else counts
very much. Start the day right, hand
him his gloves and a kind word at the
front door as he sallies forth to the
day's battle, and constancy and devo
tion will be her reward. I have spoken
words of wisdom. Harken, O Chief
Button-Maker of the World!"
Good humor mastered him again,
and he grinned his delightful boyish
"I'll tell you what I'll do for you, my
lad," I said. "I'll arrange for you to
see Helen to-night! You shall meet
and talk and dance with her at Port
Annandale casino, in the most conven
tional way in the world, with me for
chaperon. By reason or being Mr.
Glenarm's guest here, I'm ex officio a
member of the club. I'll manage
everything. Miss Pat shall know noth
ing—all on one condition only."
"Well, name your price."
"That'you shall not mention family
affairs to her at all."
"God knows I shall be delighted to
escape them!" His eyes brightened
and he clapped his hands together. "I
owe her a pair of gloves on an old
wager. I have them in the village and
will bring them over to-night," he said
but deception was not an easy game
for him. I grinned and he colored.
"It's not money, Donovan," he said,
as hurt as a misjudged child. "I won't
lie to you. I was to meet her at St.
Agatha's pier to-night to give her the
"You shall have your opportunity,
but those meetings on piers won't do.
I will hand her over to you at the
casino at nine o'clock. I suppose I
may have a dance or two?"
"I suppose so," he said, so grudging
ly that I laughed aloud.
"Remember the compact try to
have a good time and don't talk of
trouble," I enjoined, as we parted.
ter in charge during vacation, where I
faced Miss Pat, with Helen on one
hand and Sister Margaret on the oth
er. They were all in good humor, even
Sister Margaret proving less austere
than usual, and it is not too much to
say that we were a merry party. Helen
led me with a particular intention to
talk of Irish affairs, and avowed her
own unbelief in the capacity of the
Irish for self-government.
"Now, Helen!" admonished Miss
Pat, as our debate waxed warm.
"Oh, do not spare me! I could not
be shot to pieces in a better cause!"
"The trouble with you people," de
clared Helen with finality, "is that
you have no staying qualities. The
smashing of a few heads occasionally
satisfies your islanders, then down go
the necks beneath the yoke. You are
incapable of prolonged war. Now, even
the Cubans did better you must admit
that, Mr. Donovan!"
She met my eyes with a challenge.
There was no question as to the ani
mus of the discussion she wished me
to understand that there was war be
tween us, and that with no great faith
in my wit or powers of endurance she
was setting herself confidently to the
business of defeating my purpose. And
I must confess that I liked it in her!
"If we had you for an advocate our
flag would undoubtedly rule the seas,
Miss Holbrook!"
"I dip my colors," she replied, "only
to the long-enduring, not to the valiant
"A lady of high renown," I mused
aloud, while Miss Pat poured the cof
feet, a lady of your own name, was
once more or less responsible for a lit
tle affair that lasted ten years about
the walls of a six-gated city."
"I wasn't named for her! No sugar
to-night, please, Aunt Pat!"
I stood with her presently by an
open window of the parlor, looking out
upon the night. Sister Margaret had
vanished about her household duties
Miss Pat had taken up a book with the
rather obvious intention of leaving us
to ourselves. I expected to start at
eight for my rendezvous at Red Gate,
and my ear was alert to the chiming
of the chapel clock. The gardener had
begun his evening rounds, and paused
in the walk beneath us.
"Don't you think," asked Helen,
"that the guard is rather ridiculous?"
"Yes, but it pleases my medieval in
stincts to imagine that you need de
fenders. In the absence of a moat the
gardener combines in himself all the
apparatus of defense. Ijima is his
Asiatic ally."
"And you, I suppose, the grand strat
egist and field marshal."
"At least that!"
If the Arab and his horse are by
legend closely allied, they are in
point of fact even more intimately
connected. His mount is his first
thought, and at all times by far the
most interesting topic of conversation
He is ungroomed, undipped, unhal
tered, for the Arab prefers to shackle
him by means of two ropes, a short
cord connecting the fore and hind fet
locks and a long line tethering him
above the hind fetlock to a peg in the
ground. Thus he can move about or
roll at leisure, and should -there be
any .rough herbage at hand can for
age for It Perhaps one of the nrlnci-
"After this morning I never ex
pected to ask a favor of you but if, in
my humblest tone—"
"Certainly. Anything within reason."
"I want you to take me to the
casino to night to the dance I'm tired
of being cooped up here. I want to
hear music and see new faces
"Do pardon me for not having
thought of it before! They dance over
there every Wednesday and Saturday
aight I'm sorry that to-night I have
an engagement, but won't you allow
me on Saturday?"
She was resting her arms on the
high sill, gazing out upon the lake. I
stood near, watching her, and as she
sighed deeply my heart ached for her
but in a moment she turned her head
swiftly with mischief laughing in her
"You have really refused! You have
positively declined! You plead anoth
er engagement! This is a rlace where
one's engagements are burdensome
"This one happens to be important
She turned round with her back to
the window.
"We are eternal foes we are fight
ing it out to a finish and it is better
that way. But, Mr. Donovan, I haven't
played all my cards yet."
"I look upon you &« a resourceful
person and I shall be prepared for the
worst. Shall we say Saturday night
for the dance?"
"No!" she exclaimed, tossing her
head. "And let me hava the satisfac
tion of t^Uing \ou that could not
have gone *«fith you to night, anyhow.
Treated as a Good Friend
Intimate Association Between the Arab
and His Horse.
It is most Interesting to note the
way the Arab treats his faithful
friends. So Inured, indeed, is the
Arab pony by long usage and descent
to the manner of life in the desert
that even my own pony positively im
proved on the treatment and I never
saw him so fit as when he came back
from the trip.
I found 'tfima ready with the launch
at Glenarm pier, and, after a swift
flight to the Tifc-eecanoe, knocked at
the door of Red Gftte. Arthur Hol
brook admitted me, aa& led the way
to the room where, as his captive, I
had first talked with him.
"We have met before," he ai&d, smil
ing. "I thought you were an enemy at
that time. Now I believe I may conat
you a friend."
"Yes I should like to prove myseSI
your friend, Mr. Holbrook"
"Thank you," he said, simply ant
we shook bands. "You have taken aa
interest ira my affairs, so my daughter
tells me She is very dear to me-*
she is all I have left you can under*
stand that I wish to avoid Involving
her in these family difficulties."
"I would cut off my right hand be
fore I would risk injuring you or her,
Mr. Holbrook," I replied, earnestly.
"You have a right to know why I wish*
her to visit the casino with me to
night. I know what she does not
know, what only two other people
know I know why you are here."
"I ant very sorry I regret it very
much," he said, without surprise but
with deep feeling. He would have
said more, but I interrupted him.
"As far as I am concerned no one
else shall ever know. Tbe persona
who know the truth about you are
your brother and yourself. Strangely)
enough, Reginald Gillespie does not
know. Your sister has not tbe slight
est idea of it. Your daughter, I as
sume, has no notion of it—"
"No! no!" he exclaimed, eagerly.
"She has not known she has believed
what I have told her and now she
must never know how stupid, how
mad, I have been."
"To-night," I said, "your daughter
and I will gain possession of the forged
notes. Gillespie will give them to her
and I should like to hold them for a
day or two."
He was pacing the floor and at this
wheeled upon me with doubt and sus
picion clearly written on his face.
"But I dttn't see how you can man
age it!''
"Mr. Gillespie is infatuated with your
"With Helen, who is with my sister
at St. Agatha's."
"I have promised Gillespie that he
shall see her to-night at the casino
dance. Your sister Is very hitter
against him and he is mortally afraid
of her."
"His father really acted very de
cently, when you know the truth. But
I don't see how this is to be managed.
I should like to possess myself of
those papers, but not at too great a
cost More for Rosalind's sake than'
my own now, I should have them."
"You may not know that your daugh
ter and her cousin are as like as two
human beings can be. I am rather put
to it myself to tell them apart."
pai reasons why the Arab so excels at
long journeys is that the never worries
himself nor does he ever distress his
mount unless there is real cause to
do so. He simply continues a steady
walk all day and hardly ever gallops
in the wild way in which one so often
sees them depicted by artists.
At the Turn of the Road.
In the perspective from the turn of
the road we may now see how man*
times the paralyzing hand of procras
tination touched the good deeds we
meant to do, the golden dreams we
longed to transform into actualities.
We wished to do, and we wanted to
do, but we did not will to do. The
fault was not in conditions, but in us.
We were not equal to opiportunities.
It is a false philosophy Oiat teaches
that opportunity calls orly once at
any man's house. It comes with the
persistency of an importunate cred
itor, always in a new guise, and clam
ors for admission, but we may be tat
busy to answer the bell.—Ctreto

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