at a german spa.
PViEINTHB LIFE OF PHIL BOURKE, D. D.
VI.
]’| lC next day after the eventful meet
■ , f I did not go to Haley street, nor the
next day after that, nor,—nay, the truth
" v iJ]out! I did not go the day after
that.
It was ignominious to seem to play the
spy, but quite impossible to sacrifice more
than two days to dignified scruples. On
t h e third day I decided that take a “run”
down Harley street I must, and thit.ier
accordingly betook myself. It was no
figure of speech : I ran. I simply shot
past the house, and I did not look at the
doorknocker. Going at full speed toward
Cavendish street, I all but collided with
a fellow being.
■‘Dr. Drayton Murray 1”
“Dr. Bourke I”
“How do you do I Are you busy?
Or can you come back to my house for a
moment’s chat!”.
How can I ever have thought this man
gaunt and grim? lie is a stately old
gentleman with the kindest face in the
world.
I return with him, nothing loth. Go
ing along, we descant on the atmos
phere as a topic of absorbing interest.
“Will you come to my study?” he
says as we enter the house, and leads
the way thither. The first thing that
catches my eyes as I enter is the picture
of a young man, in somewhat antiquated
garb, bearing a strong resemblance to
myself—my father (we have the same
picture of him) before he was married.
“A dear collegiate friend,” says the
doctor in reply to my gaze. “No less
surprised than are you to see his picture
dere was I when, some months ago, I
kirned that you are his s in. I have
ne ' ei seen him since he gave me that
P ortl 'ait before going to India. Ah, yes,
1 beard of his death, poor fellow !
And we both of us consecrate some
'"iuutes of silent respect to one of the
best of men.
Then the conversation turns into other
Cannels, until—
About this little girl of mine,” says
doctor suddenly. “May I ask if I
n ) U() ng in thinking that vou care for
her?’’ *=“
aie for her 1 She is never out of
thoughts, Doctor Murray.”
" hen ’ why the ” (lie stops)
°n earth don’t you m ike each
Chappy? y
M he rings a bell.
Miss Dravton Murray to come
, Huis to the servant who answers
Mainly rather abrupt, this style. I
have a slight return of the “hot” sensa
tion experienced during the memorable
interview in Wildbad. I feel deplorably
awkward.
A step on the stair, a run in the pas
sage. Miss Drayton Murray does not
Keep her father waiting.
In another instant the door opened.
“What.' You’re not alone! Did you
not send for me father?”
She stops on the threshold. It is a
pietty picture It would make a pretty
scene in a play—but it was cruel on the
child. She begins to tremble. The
same change comes over her face ; first
a wave of color, then pittifully white.
“bather, what does it mean? What
do you want with me!”
I think he cannot have foreseen the ef
fect his summons would have. He has
tens toward the girl, and, putting one
arm about her, leads her into the room.
He makes her mine with his blessing,
and leaves us alone. In another in
stant I am holding between my hands '
her golden head. lam looking into her
eyes, and she says—with something that
is not quite laughter, and is not quite
tears, that the other Nelly was perfect
ly right, that her thoughts have been '
with me always—and why? Because '
(this without ever a smile) about our
first meeting there was, indeed, “the '
sort of thing one remembers.” '
ELSA d’ESEERRE-KEELING.
THE END.
PREHISTORIC BAR HARBOR. '
i
Bar Harbor is a gi eat summer resort, 1
and it is looked upon by many persons '
as the first of its class. But it is really ’
the latest. Maine has always been the
scene of fashionable summer gatherings, 1
and the succession of them reaches back '
to prehistoric times. There, not a thou- 1
sand miles from Bar Harbor, still re
main the proofs. Let us examine them.
Let us learn from the relics how society
five hundred or live thousand years ago
came down upon the coast of Maine as '
it does in this almost twentieth century,
to enjoy its sum ner frolic. It we can
not make the examination personally,
let us avail ourselves of an excellent
proxy, the Maine Historical Society,
which made recently a tour of inspec
tion to the famous Damariscotta mounds.
These relics are situated on the banks of
the Damariscotta inlet or river, and are
simply enormous heaps of debris from
the feasts of the prehistoric summer vis
itors. They are composed of tiie shells
of oysters, clams and other edible mol
lusks, with occasional bones of land ani
mals. They are like the shell mounds
in Florida and the “Kitchen Middens”
of Scandinavia. The principal heap
measured before it was disturbed three
hundred and forty-seven feet in length,
with an average width of sixty feet, and
a depth of from four to twenty feet, av
eraging twelve feet. It sloped toward
the river at an angle of twenty degrees.
It is now unfortunately being destroyed.
A manufacturing company is cutting
down the heap aad turning the snells in
to fertilizers and he a food. The visit of
the Historical Society is thus described
in the Portland Transcript:—The party
numbering about thirtv. arrived at New
castle at nine a. m., and taking carria
ges proceeded at once to the scene ot
operation on the east side of the river.
A drive through the twin villages of
Newcastle and Damariscotta, and about
a mile and a half up the east bank of the
river, brought us to the newlv erected
mill near which a gang oi men were en
gaged in leveling the heap which was al
ready cut down on all sides, showii g
sections fifteen feet high of closely pad -
ed oyster sheiks. The men were spread
ing the shells over the ground to dry,
and throwing the comminuted portions
through screens, while clouds of white
vapor issued from the busy mill. The
denuded heap enabled one to obtain an
adequate conception of the immense
number of shells here piled upon each
other and of the great length of lime re
quired for their form ill ji.
Running through the heap at inter
vals were dark lines of mould, mingled
with ashes, shoving that from some
cause the Indians lor a considerable
lime ceased their visits to the oyster
beds, and on their return encamped up
on the grassed-over heap and built their
camp fires upon it. Mr. Gamage, of
the Peabody Museum, Cambridge, was
present studying the excivalions. lie
exhibited sone of the relics found, in
cluding the fragments of Dottery, show
ing a pot with a pointed bottom, like the
Roman amphora or wine jar, bear’s
teeth, stone hatchets, a fragment oi a
deer’s antler, and human bones, giving
evidenceof having been broken. Near
the bones of a human skeleton he had
found some copper beads. Shells from
ten to fourteen inches long were picked
up in great abundance.
These elongated shells show the crowd
ed condition of the oyster beds, as the
heaps do of the abundance of the bi
valves. A section oi the heap was un
dermined by the workmen when a great
rock came tumbling down, causing a
rush for relics, but only the bones of a
wolf or Indian dog were found. The
oyster shells are of the long orcluster va
riety, a few fourteen inches in length,
and many ten and twelve inches. Clam
shells are mingled with them, also shells
of razor fish and quahaugs, with a few
of other kinds. r l here are also found