The Florence tribune. [volume], August 25, 1892, Image 1

About The Florence tribune. [volume] (Florence, Ariz) 1892-1901

Image provided by: Arizona State Library, Archives and Public Records; Phoenix, AZ

r
I . ;)
VOL. 1.
FLORENCE, ARIZONA, THURSDAY, AUGUST. 25, 1892.
NO. 34.
r.
lie
Mill Alt AY I lyCSCivCY ACV
THE OPIUM SMOKER.
I am engulfed, and drawn deliciouslr.
Soft mimic like a perfume, and tweet light
Golden with audible odors exquisite,
6watue me with cerements for eternity.
Time is no more. I pause and yet I nee,
A million age wrap me roundrith night,
I drain a million ages of delight,
I hold the future In my memory,
Also I have this garret which I rent,
This bed of straw, and this that was a chair,
This worn out body liKe a tattered tent.
This crust, of which the rats hare eaten part,
This pipe of opium; rage, remorse, despair;
This soul at pawn and this delirious heart.
London Academy.
UNCLE OR NEPHEW.
Allowing for disparity of years Geoffrev
Middleton, nephew, was as like in person ti
Geoffrey Middletou, mcle,aa he was in nana
and nature.
The two were the last representative!! ol
their race, Middletons, of Middleton Cast'.
and strangers who saw thein together were
sure to fancy them father and son until in
formed to the contrary. They were both
tall, thin and muscular justifying in their
degree the arrogant Lancashire proverb
which affirms that "the south grows trees,
the north grows men." Their features were
rugged and boldly defined, speaking, without
words, of force of character end vitality of
will. None could look either ancle or nephew
in the face as they looked their neighbors
and read weakness there. But the nephew,
as became stalwart seven-and-twenty, had
pretension to be described as handsome
(upon the family pattern), which his kins
man lacked.
As has been hinted, the physical resem
blance was supplemented by analogy of tem
per. Each was stiff, reticent, locked in the
prison house of a natural hauteur, and capa
bi of a smoldering, dangerous resent-nent.
And in the case of old Geoffrey these at
tributes had of late come every one into
play. In his own fashion he was showing
his extreme disapproval of the sayings and
doings of his heir, now on a visit to Elgin
bouse, Sef ton Park.
The prosperous Liverpool shipbroker saw
the maxims of his life, those rules of caution
and exactness by which be had built up a
'douse the envy of a thousand rivals, appar
ently set at naught by a, harum-scarum
young surgeon. He had wanted young
Geoffrey to come into the office, and, mis
liking the outlook of perpetual quill driving
and equally systematic supervision, Geoffrey
refused. This was a first offense, and it had
been condoned. Funds were found to edu
cate the refractory one for the profession he
elected; and later, to purchase for him a
hare in a practice where be might still be
under his ancle's eye. Fairly launched thus,
young Geoffrey hud incontinently exchanged
with a dissatisfied brother of the scalpel
located at York. The score against him on
bis ancle's tablet of memory was therewith
doubled. ----1
And after many days he had come back in
anything but the prodigal's role of hu
mility and contrition, though the main pur
pose of his cross country journey seemed
to be to invite extrication from a financial
difficulty.
. "It's an awful nuisance, of course, I'm dis
gusted with myself at having to come to yon
on such an errand, sir. But I never dreamed
that it would turn out more than what Ar
buthnot called it 'a mere form,'" he said.
"And after all I suppose it's I that will be
the loser in the long run."
: Whether young Geoffrey's native talents
were few or many, that of diplomacy was
not among them. If it had been, he would
Instinctively have avoided at this juncture
the remotest reference to his ancle's well un
derstood intentions concerning the ultimate
disposition of his wealth. It was inevitable
that such an allusion must, under the circum
stances, grate upon the listener's ear.
In reality it stimulated old Geoffrey's
anger to a perilous pitch. The shipbroker'a
brow was furrowed like a warped plank of
one of his own vessels, the cold gray eyes
scintillated with scorn, the lines deepened and
grew rigid at the corners of the inflexible
mouth. Yet the bridle was upon his tongue.
Be was never the man to bandy futile re
proaches or reveal the depth of bis indigna
tion in scathing, impetuous speech. The pas
sion of his wrath found its familar outlet
sarcasm.
"Most genially and pleasantly said," he
answered. "Yes, it i yon who will be the
sufferer. There cannot be a doubt of that.
And I quite acquit yon of intending to sub
mit me to this trifling annoyance the figures
you mentioned were 1,500, 1 think?"
Young Geoffrey writhed upon his chair
and felt uncommonly hot, although be was
sitting at an open window with the June
breeze fanning him. Foolish he might be, a
tad blunderer he was; but be had plenty of
wit to see his error after committing it no
great thing, perhaps, to say in his favor, and
certainly no unusual phenomenon. And he
recognized both the storm signals on bis
amis' countenance and the irony of the old
man's tone and words. Yet such was the
torn of his own mental and moral idiosyn
crasies that he made no pretense of apology,
but tightened his lips and replied to the su
perfluous query in accents equally frigid and
calm.
! "Yes rather more, in fact; fifteen hun
dred and eighty."
I "And you expect me to find yon this sum?"
"v "To whom else shall I apply, sir? I have
no other resource. If my father were living
it would be different But you've stood in
the place of both parents to me for many a
year. And tins is how I repay your
It was a sudden climax, and not the less a
stroke of happy augury. If the young sur
geon had paused there, there might be no
story to tell. His spasm of emotion, his re
pentance, genuine if destined to be short
lived, had favorably affected old Geoffrey,
who loved his adopted boy with every fault
.vpon his head.
i Hut surely some mischievous sprite must
Slave stood at young Geoffrey's elbow and
Slave dictated new words of strife.
'And you can punish me, sir, by leaving
as much more away to the office boy, if you
like. I rather wish yon would," he fatuously
Wded, as the lull grew harassing.
, He bad whistled for the wind, and the
tempest was his reward, if such an epithet
may properly be applied to the measured and
restrained condemnation to which he was
compelled to attend.
"You are still harping on the same cheer
ful string," said old Geoffrey, with a bland
yet bitter senile upon his face it was a
though patience should smile at the futility
of her own forbearance "I leave you to de
termine whether there is not after all the
chance mind, I only venture to say the
chance of another flaw in your calculations.
You appear to have made one in relying
upon your friend Mr. Arbuthnot's honor,
and backing the bill which ho cleverly leaves
you to pay. Very possibly he, too, is aware
of your great expectations. Or it may even
be a planned business between you."
"Sirl uncle!'' The victim of this dubious
money transaction sprang to his feet.
"Sit down," said the other dryly; "it's not
the Middleton way to go pop like a ginger
beer bottle, because shaken by a mere per
haps.'' Young Geoffrey resumed his seat and bit
bis lip in silence.
"1 didn't say that it was so; I dont know
that I thought it. But, putting the best con
struction on voir conduct, it's anything but
satisfactory. My money has been made, sir,
by hard work, pegging at it, and taking care
of eviry guinea. Your cleverness seems to
be exhibited in precisely an opposite direc
tion. Your pockets, sir, are sieves. And to
any man with an atom of real business about
him, the backing of a stiff bill on next to no
inquiry would be impossible. lie could no
more do it than scuttle a ship. You shall
have the money, but beware not a second
time." w
"It shall not occur again, sir. The prom
ise was sincere, but uttered in a manner
neither gracious nor conciliating. It seemed
to the young surgeon that he had been made
the mark of a volley of missiles, every one
of which had left its bruise behind. And in
addition he was no doubt buffeted by an ac
cusing conscience.
Old Geoffrey crossed the room to an ebony
cabinet fitted at the top as a writing desk ; he
took his check book from an inner drawer,
filled np a draft, while the only sound in the
apartment was the sullen ticking of a morose
clock supported by griffins on the mantel
piece, passed the pink slip to bis nephew, and
walked out into the adjacent conservatory.
He had said his say, and. for tie hour there
was an end to it.
"Thank you; I am very sorry, I'm sure,
sir," said the culprit And by a different door
he too vanished.
But the ship broker did not dismiss the in
terview from his thoughts. It was with him
all day at his office in Water street, produc
ing an increased testinees under which his
clerks suffered and for which they could find
no adequate palliation in the current condi
tion of trade. Even one of his skippers con
descended to mention in the outer counting
house that "the boss was in a regular tear,
raging like a nor'easter, and that all he, the
sailor, could do was to reef sail and to bring
up close to the wind."
Old Geoffrey was slowly working oat a
problem more troublesome than any supplied
by the figures on his ledgers or cargo sheets.
And at last he reached the goal of great de
cision. It was clear that his nephew was
unfit to be intrusted with the round half
million so laboriously amassed. The scape
grace would make ducks and drakes of it.
Yet to disinherit him by will was an irksome j
procedure, and ran counter to lifelong pur- '
poses and prejudices. Old Geoffrey had ever '
been ready with his sneer at merchants who
scraped and saved and left their board, at
their reluctant exit, to asylums or charities.
And so far as be knew there was not even a
cousin half a dozen times removed who could
be dragged into the warm circles of wealth
while the delinquent was bidden stay out in
the cold. No; it was the choice of unwel
come alternatives that the shipbroker had
faced. He might leave bis nephew to pres
ent content and future triumph. Or the
first inception of the idea was attended by
fierce mental throes that fully accounted for
irritability of temper he might? marry. And
to marry was his final resolve.
The revelation would have astounded his
clerks, and have at onoe amused and scan
dalized his neighbors and intimates. And he
opined, rightly or wrongly, that by it his
misbehaved nephew would be thrown into
consternation and despair. It was on this
feature of the general effect that he fixed bis
prophetic gaze with most equanimity. The
scamp deserved the punishment.
Heroism was a word contumelionsly dealt
with in old Geoffrey's private lexicon. He
professed to disbelieve in it altogether. His
synonyms for it was vainglory for the hum
bler sort, fanaticism. Yet the quality was
not absent from the purpose he was now
shaping for immediate action. He was 60;
all the ways of bis daily life were ordered on
a model tested and approved by prolonged
experience; and it was understood with per
fect correctness by the whole body of his as
sociates, whether in Water street or Befton
Park, that he was a confirmed miogynict.
And in spite of these facts he had determined
to write this very evening an explicit pro
posal of marriage to a girl of whom he knew
little more than that she was pretty repute
said cultured and the daughter of his
banker.
The deed was done before be again met the
intractable nephew whose nose he chuckled
grimly to himself might thus in due time be
effectually put out of joint.
Young Geoffrey failed pitiably to read the
true meaning of his uncle's elaborate polite
ness and elephantine mirth at the dinner
table. Generally a dreary function at Elgin
house was that of the great social feastl He
fancied that the sky was clear again; that his
ancle's wrath was appeased. He learned bet
ter when the solemn visaged butler had with
drawn. "Um! I think it right to inform yon,
Geoff, that I intend shortly to change my
state to marry," said old Geoffrey.
A wine glass was shivered, slipping in some
occult way to the polished floor. But there
was no other overt symptom of disconcert
ment on the listener's part. A Middleton to
the core, he simply answered:
"Indeedl Allow me to congratulate you,
sir."
And old Geoffrey was strangely vexed at
the sturdy restraint and the family phlegm
which in a similar position would have char
acterized himself.
n.
"This means, don't you see, an end to idle
dreaming, Dicks. I'll Just have to buckle to
work and coerce Dame Fortune in spite of
her frowns. But I'd take it better, I think,
if the governor had gone about this freak
for such I call it after my latest scrape
And I shouldn't have been as much surprised
then. But he must have settled it long ago.
He announced it as a fact already in process
of fulfillment. He dropped a word or two
in the morning as I was doing penance of
confession, but I didn't take much heed then;
I shall have to now."
Mr. Geoffrey Middleton the younger was
discussing with tho old friend and ally whose
post he had taken at York the untoward al
teration of his prospects disclosed to him on
the previous evening. And not unnaturally,
though in this instance erroneously, he gave
his uncle credit for acting with mature de
liberation. Edgar Dicks clapped him on the shoulder.
"Spoken like a Briton," he cried; "but I'd
have token oath that the old fellow had more
sense. Yes, and a better regard for you.
Who is the fair beguiler? She'll have a
prize, eh!"
"She will I speak in all seriousness. Not
a syllable can or shall be uttered by my lips
against my uncle. And ho has a perfect right
to do as he pleases in this matter. But who
is to be the future Mrs. Middleton I am as
ignorant, Dicks, as you are."
"You asked him, surely?"
"Not L I suppose my wretched pride got
in the path; ah, well, it's got a knock down
blow at last."
"Whew! You're a queer pair. Eeorrttriov
ity must beioredilary; here's the proCtr
And Dicks ended with a laugh, compound
ed in about equal part of iIauralion, pity
and amusement admiration for his com
rade's chivalrous defense of the imperious old
ship broker, pity for young Geoffrey's ab
ruptly overclouded hopes, and amusement at
the humor of the off hand avowal which
Geoffrey had described. f
At the same instant Dicks recollected a call
Be had to make In Park street They were
far up Prince's road.
"I shall have to wish you good morning,
Middleton; it won't do to neglect duty, and
the beckoning band is at my rear."
The friends parted. Geoffrey strolled
moodily along, battling with a certain temp
tation which was sure to attack him as he
Beared Prince's park. In a house to his right
resided Dusa Venn, a girl whom yesterday
he bad dared to picture on the canvas of an
exuberant fancy as his wife, but who now
was as far above him as the star is ever
above the moth. Her friends were rich, and
he was a poor surgeon nothing more. Had
be not been duly warned that to build an
airy castle on the basis of a great inherit
ance, as in the past he had been apt
to do, was simply to set a premium on
disappointment and disaster Henceforth
he would walk among realities, and,
as he had assured Dicks, put a decisive
period to day dreams. It was hard, all the
same, to recognize that the acquaintance
that had begun so blithely at Christmas,
when Dusa had returned from Germany,
and the hope of continuing and developing
which had secretly combined with his mone
tary need to bring him now to Liverpool,
must remain only a witching, tantalizing
memory. Yesterday he had dared to call
and Dusa had been so kind that he had
grown bold to whisper words into which she
might, if she pleased, read passion and the
old sweet homage of the man to the maid.
He was invited to return to drop in at any
time he chose.
Why not for the last time now? On the
morrow be would seek safety in flight to
York. , . - -
Where a young woman is in the question
especially a girl scarce twenty, with rippling
golden hair, eyes like meres of living light,
and a face and figure worthy of Aphrodite as
she dwelt in a Grecian sculptor's brain how
shall man hold on the even tenor of bis way
and be strong?
Young Geoffrey's feet stayed, turned,
finally stood in the ball of Gartmore, and
then a strange thing befell him. He was ush
ered into a boudoir and found Dosa alone,
and there was a look upon her face, and a
sweet expectancy in her attitude, that caused
his heart to thump against his breast as if
seeking to depart and fly to that fair custod
ian for whom nature had so clearly destined
it. Already he was mystified, and, it would
hardly be too much to write, alarmed.
"Geoffrey I" whispered a soft voice. And
volumes could not have gathered into their
covers a fuller, richer meaning.
What bewildering portent was this? For
bard strife with the yearnings of bis own
sjpirit Geoffrey Middleton had come pre
pared. But not for a challenge of this sort.
He was swayed -like a reed in the wind.
Every maxim of prudence was driven oat of
his head. The words of his answer which
was an appeal came with but semi-conscious
volition.
"Dusa, my dear onel Is there any hope?"
be cried.
And ah, the bliss, the bewilderment of itl
The shapely little bead was pillowed upon
his breast, Hope? This was certainty.
"But, Geoffrey, your letter said this even
ing; I was not looking for you yet. War
you so impatient r
"My letter," he echoed helplessly.
"Yes;and how curiously formal you were
in expressing what what I suppose is your
wish" the blushing face was averted, or
young Geoffrey's slowly dawning look of hor
rified intelligence must infallibly have struck
a chill to the tender heart that trusted him
"if I hadn't known yon as it really seems
for an age, thongh it's such a littjy tiino I
should have fancied that, after all, you didnt
very greatly care"
"Stop, Dusa, my treasurer' almost moaned
the startled and dismayed lover; "nothing
can change our regard for each other noth
ing shall We are agreed in that?"
Dusa was alert and quivering In every
nerve with a new accession of excitement.
It was her turn to be perplexed. Why
this sudden tornado of anxious, foreboding
passion?
"Yes, oh, yes," she replied, with a shy,
pretty fervor.
"Then, Dusa, it was not I who wrote to
you; it was my uncle!"
Only the rosy kiss of morning on Alpine
snow will comparo with the flood of carmine
that overswept the abashed countenance.
Amazement and consternation between them
riveted her to the spot, or the girl might have
fled. If this were true, what a hoyden she
must have appeared to her visitor. Could
anything be worse than to be won without
being wooed? And her parents too had been
deceived. They had regarded the stately
proposal as emanating from the nephew, and
on the strength of old Geoffrey's wealth, in
estimating which the banker had the assist
ance of private knowledge, they bad gra
ciously favored the suitor. It was-a terrible
imbroglio, from whatever standpoint the
complex question at issue was regarded.
But young Geoffrey had the courage of
despair, and the nobility of bis nature as
serted itflelf.
"Forgive me, Miss Venn, for my ill con
sidered attempt just now at pledging yon to
a promise which altered conditions may rea
sonably warrant you in breaking," he said.
i "I have been wrong wrong all through.
But I can make this amends. You are per
fectly free, Miss Venn, as free as one short
hour ago; oven freer, for then your mind was
entangled by a singular error. I may never
be my uncle's heir; he has told me that be
means to marry; I did not know whom. I
am only a poor toiler. It is not for me to
harbor vain ambitions, however sweet."
His voice died away in an involuntary
sigh. The touch of self pity in the last sen
tence of his great renouncement was almost
tragic.
Dusa had recovered the control of her fac
ulties, if not her self possession. She smiled
through tears.
"But you made a promise, too; and unless
you wish it I will not release you," she said.
There was a happy pause, in which
But the narrator relents, and leaves the
hiatus. And Dusa added, with a flash of
mischief irradiating her tremulous confu
sion: "Only I wish I'd been familiar, Geoffrey,
with your handwriting."
in.
Philosopners, who differ in some other mat
ters almost as vehemently as politicians, are
agreed that succeea is not synonymous with
happiness. It is possible to have a big bank
ing balance, costly freight on many seas, and
even seniority in the procession to the civic
chair, and to hobnob nevertheless with dis
content The foot may have its corn and
wince at the slightest touch beneath the vel
vet slipper.
These moral reflections owe their origin in
this place to the profound dissatisfaction
that had crept like a Mersey fog of December
over the spirit of Geoffrey Middleton, ship
broker. His position was precisely that dex
terously insinuated above. And the cause
thereof was bis own hastily adopted purpose
of matrimony.
His fateful letter, once posted by bis own
band, for fear of accidents or the impertin
ent curiosity of domestics, he felt for the
moment triumphant It was in this mood
that he bad dealt his sharp thrust at his
nephew over the wine and dessert in the din
ing room.
But when be retired that night it was to a
weary vigil in which corking care was biting i
in . 7a7JUZ .IVdX'l
bko an acid into the pattern of his heroic re-1
solve. With a young and ardent love the
major uncertainty would have been whether
he was to be accepted or rejected. But old
Geoffrey's thoughts did not tarry long at this
stage. Be had witnessed too many sacrifices
of fair, ingenuous springtime to wan, satur
nine winter to have much doubt that he could
lead to the altar yet another victim. He
was wealthy, and it was enough. Guardians
would advise, and the girl's own vanity and
desire to possess the advantages credited to
the station of a rich man's darling would
give her strength to crush down any natural
repugnance.
The anxiety was of a different sort Was
be sure that be had fully calculated the cost
of the step in personal security, comfort and
ease? And every time he went over anew the
ground of the argument pro and con the
keener became his doubts. In the morning
h irot up -rith feelings surely cast on the
model of those with which Mr. William
By kes may regard the final ceremony in a
prison court yard, at which his presence is
ever likely to be required?
Mightily glad was old Geoffrey that he had
not to face his nephew, who was a late riser,
at the breakfast table.
And if on the previous day a nor'easter
bad rattled about the ears of his Water street
employes, it was a veritable hurricane that
blew anathemas hither and thither from 10
to 3 on this date of doom. One of his
clerks resigned then and there.
Everything went wrong; though, as he was
at bottom a scrupulously fair man, there
could be little doubt that old Geoffrey would
by and by come, to acknowledge that the
fault was in himself.
And a fellow trader who dropped in with
a budget of gossip did not throw oil on the
troubled waves.
"Sad about Danby, isnt It?" he asked.
"What? I ha vent heard. I thought his
firm was as solid as as St George's hall."
"Ob, so it is; there's no screw loose in Dan
by, Porter & Porter. But the old mans
shaky here," and the friend significantly tap
ped his parchment-like forehead; "they're
sending him to an asylum. Married a young
wife, you remember. That's done it A nice
dance she led him. Better have stayed as he
was as you are, Middleton."
"Quite so," said old Geoffrey, grimly. And
be relapsed into his ledger again.
"Quite so; and next month everybody will
be saying that I'm as big a fool, and prophe
sying on my account," he muttered irrele
vantly, when, with a farewell word about a
shipment of wool from Melbourne, the visi
tor had gone.
"Confound the boy," he went on in his
bitter soliloquy; "what did he want to be so
cocksure about coming in for my money for?
As for the 1,580 it was a heavy figure I
could have forgiven him that And now he's
let mo in for a worse scrape."
Remorse was working. But what could it
avail a man who had drawn up a document
as compromising as half the inane composi
tions that figure in reports of breach of
promise suits, and had watched it with a
malicious smile committed to the charge of
her majesty's postmaster general. With a
groan his consoience supplied the response
none. He was bound by every consideration
of honor and probity to go through his enter
prise. And this meant a call that evening
at Gartmore. His exact expression in his
old fashioned and somewhat cumbersome
phraseology had been:
"In so important a matter, my dear Miss
Venn, I would earnestly desire that you
should eschew a hasty decision, and I there
fore will ask to be permitted to wait in per
son at your home for your reply during the
early hours of to-morrow evening."
And be went
Not altogether to his surprise Mr. Venn re
ceived him. It was quite in keeping with his
notions of propriety that the preliminaries
of the momentous contract should be settled
with his future bride's father; and, in truth,
bo was very considerably relieved to have to
enter (as be supposed) upon a purely business
discussion and to postpone the ordeal of mak
ing love. What he should find to say when
the latter labor had to be undertaken it
passed his power of conjecture to imagine.
Ee could only hops that the crisis and he
dreaded it worse than an interview with his
dentist would by its very severity kindle
within his mind illumination for the road he
bad so fatuously elected to travel.
Mr. Venn was a rotund little man, with a
bustling manner, twinkling dark eyes the
twinkling was intensified at this juncture
and the good gift of sound digestion, which
renders 111 temper on any but the most inso-
lent provocation a base ingratitude to kindly
Providence.
"Delighted to see you at Gartmore, Mid
dleton, and ahem! I believe I have some
idea of your errand," said he.
The shipbroker bowed. "I fully expected
that yon would understand," he answered.
And then somehow be paused, for it was
borne in upon him that he was on the eve of
listening to- some disturbing revelation.
Nothing could be wrong with the bank sure
ly! It was a dreadful thought that made
him quake in bis boots. Certainly Venn's
face wore an aspect of funereal gravity, re
lieved only by the oddly contrasted bright
ness of his eyes, where a couple of imprisoned
sunbeams Deemed to be basking.
"First let me express my sense our sense
of the honor done to my daughter, and
through Dusa to her parents, by your offer
of this morning, Mr. Middleton."
Old Geoffrey breathed a trifle more freely.
It was the question he had come about, then,
that accounted for Venn's ' solemnity. Toe
stability of the famous old banking house
was unimpaired. It was a ridiculously ab
surd terror that had seized him.
"But, Middleton, I am sorry."
"I am afraid I don't quite take you."
And indeed the inference seemed to be too
good to be true. Never, surely, did pretender
await with more eagerness the verdict of dismissal.
"I repeat that I am sorry. My daughter's j
anections are Destowea aireaay elsewhere,
my dear Middleton. And there has been
an odd mistake, the oddest mistake, I think,
I ever knew or heard of. If I bad seen your
letter I should have known, of course. But
you see Dusa is quite unfamiliar with your
hand; and then you write as vigorously as
as your nephew might do. And I was busy ; I
didn't ask to see the note. Dusa told me
what was in it and who she supposed it had
come from, and so, as I say, we blundered all
round."
Light was slowly breaking on old Geof
frey's mind. Perhaps the reaction from the
dread that he might be taken at his word
and married out of hand (so to speak) by a
flighty young miss, quickened his faculties
of apprehension. It was queer how strong
wa V temptation to re-enact the schoolboy
. nL ,, w. ,,
of five-and-forty years ago and throw up his
hat at the joyful news of regained' liberty.
But there was more to learn.
"Do I gather correctly that you mistook
the sender?"
"Dusa did; pardon me, not unnaturally."
"Then Miw Venn could only read that note
as coming from"
"Your nephew."
"Possibly I may still be within my right?
May I ask was its petition then denied?"
"No, it was granted. And it was at Dusa?
request that I am here to tell you this. Will
you see her?"
"Sot now, not now, thanks."
The banker, whose love for his daughter
bad made him more compliant than perhaps
bis cautious professional instincts justified,
and who had not withdrawn his consent to
the young surgeons suit a consent given as
it transpired in error even when the quarrel
at Elgin House stood disclosed, made clear
with a few more pithy words what had hap
pened. And his shrewd insight into his
patron's character was vindicated in the
sequel.
"Have no fears, Geoffrey; your uncle will
come round," be had said. "I am only glad
that it was through Dusa that he proposed
to punish you."
Old Geoffrey went home, humiliation swal
lowed up of relief. He found his nephew
standing in the library, hunting up certain
cartoons in an old volume of Punch. With
a quick nervous tread he stepped to his side.
"We are quits, Geoff, now," he said. "I
saved you from one dilemma, and you've de
livered me from another. I'll not forget the
service."
And it was the last reference he made to
his two days' wooing.
In the autumn he settled an income of 600
a year, as a marriage gift, on Geoffrey Mid'
dleton's nephew. W. J. Lacey in Home
Journal.
After That the Boy Was Ready,
In the management of the indolent
schoolboy, who never wakes up to the valne
of his opportunity, various happy thoughts
are projected by the skillful teacher. Une
such lately come to light is brilliant from
its novelty.
In one of the city's most popular and
ably managed institutions of learning, an
able teacher of elocution labored long and
patiently and erstwhile in vain with the
son of a very wealthy man. The boy felt
that bis father had so much money that it
Would do all of life's work for him and he
seed not exert himself more than he liked,
even for his own benefit. He obstinately
ignored the exercise of declamation, and
came to the class week after week with no
preparation for his work.
1 will make that boy speak something,"
finally resolved the teacher. When his
name was next called and he answered, as
usual, "Unprepared," the instructor was
ready.
"Step forward, Master B , to the plat
form."
He did so.
"Make your bow to the school."
It was dona
"Ladies and gentlemen," continued the
teacher with dignity, "we will now listen
to the recitation of the multiplication ta
ble said backward with appropriate ges
tures.
There was no dodging the command, and
the poor victim stood before his audience
gesticulating and appealing by emphasis
and modulation to the sympathies of his
roaring school fellows all the way from
'Twelve times twelve" to 'two times one.
Ever since he has had a recitation ready.
Her Point of View in New York Times.
Two Johns In the Bible,
A man at city hall, who is connected
with the lamp department, has sometimes
to turn out at daylight and make visits to
different parts of the city to see for himself
how his subordinates care for the city's
lighting.
Sunday morning at 4 o'clock his mission
took him into some of the alleyways of the
West End. ' Going into one of these nar
row passages near Joy street he found two
venerable colored brethren in the heat of
discussion. An open Bible lay in the lap
of one of them and the intruder heard him
thus discourse: "Yos wrong, Rastus, an' de
Bible ses so. Deys two Johns an' I alius
knowed it. See! Here's one place that
gives St. John an' 'nother which gives John
'de Baptist. I ain't gwine to disakus the
Scriptures wid yo' no moah. Yo' doan know
nuffin about 'em." Boston Globe,
SONG.
Though th golden bowl b broken
That held lore's rosy wine,
Tboturh the last fond word be gpokea
That held thee once as mine,
7ond mem'ry still will cherish
The dream so dear to me.
And till each pulse shall perish
My heart will cling to thee.
Though the golden bowl be brokea
My heart will cling to thee.
Though the silver chord be silent
That thrilled beneath thy hand,
As in some desert island
'Neath fallen hopes I stand.
But yet, where'er I wander,
Thy beauty I shall see.
And as the past X ponder
My heart will cling to thee.
Tnough the silver chord be silent
My heart will cling to thee.
Oh, each imperfect token,
Twere Tain my lore to tell;
Though the golden bowl be brokea
And the silver chord as well,
Fond mem'ry still will cherish
The dream so dear to me,
And till each pulse shall perish
My heart will cling to thee.
Though the golden bowl be brokea
My heart will cling to thee.
Wants Her Hair Gray.
People sometimes expect medical men
to do strange things. A professional cor
respondent has a lady patient who has
consulted him about her hair, which we
are told is "turning gray slowly, but
surely." Probably it -will be assumed
that a good hair dye would serve her
turn, but it is just the other way. The
lady admires gray hair, and what aha
wants is to know how she can hasten the
change. As the correspondent signs him
self "Senex" he is presumably a person
of some professional experience; but the
request seems to have staggered him a
little, for he is fain to ask whether hia
professional brethren can help him out of
the difficulty.
People's hair, if we may trust tha
Prisoner of Chillon, has been known to
grow white in a single night, but that
has been through "sudden fears," and
probably the lady would not care to be
terrified into white locks. Marie Antoi
nette's hair became white, it is recorded,
during her stay u the state prison in
Paris, and she, we suspect, is in soma
degree responsible for the romantic as
sociations of gray hair, but that again is
hardly a practical remedy. Some milder
form of worry and vexation might be
tried. What if the lady wrote a blank
verse tragedy and tried to get it accepted
by a London manager? London News.
Channeey M. Depew's Left Foot. ' -
A New Yorker who ha had the goci
fortune to hear many of the public ad
dresses of Chauncey M. Depew, and w W
has closely observed his ways, thinks tie
great orator's left leg is responsible for
much of his success. "I've reached the
conclusion," the New Yorkersays, "that
he grinds his speeches out of his left leg.
Just as soon as Mr. Depew sits down he
will cross the left foot over the right
knee and begin to wiggle it. He puts it
through all the gestures of an orator,
bows to the audience, moves it to tha
right and left and then swings it vigor
ously. Ee watches it all the time in
tently, and seems to be conversing with
it. If you ask him a question then ha
won't answer you, for ten chances to
one he doesn't hear yon. He is getting
his inspiration, and he's drawing it from
his left foot I tell you, if it was cut off
I don't believe he could say a word.
Here's to Chauncey's agile and gifted
left leg. May it long be left" Exchange.
AVliy France Is Wealthy. '
The aggregated wealth of 80,000,000
poor, degraded, barefooted peasants
makes France rich. The ignorance of tha
French farmer is appalling. I never saw
a newspaper in a French farm village.
Their wants are no more than the wants
of a horse. The Frenchman eats tha
coarsest food; about the same as he feeds
his horse. He will eat coarse bread and
wine for breakfast; soup, bread and wina
for dinner, and perhaps bread and milk
for supper; he does not know what coffee
or tea is. The negroes of the south live
like kings compared to a French farmer.
Still the Frenchman is satisfied, because
he knows no better.
The government takes the money of
the poor np to 1,000 francs and gives
them Si per cent for its use. The peasant
farmers of France have nearly $800,000,
000 on deposit in these savings banks.
These poor, degraded, half fed farmers
keep the French treasury full of money, y
Paris Cor. New York Herald.
Horseshoeing In Holland.
The method of shoeing horses in
Holland is a novel one. The animal
is driven into a stout frame cage; tha
three feet on the ground are hobbled
so that no kicking can be indulged in,
then the foot that is to be shod is lifted
to the desired position and lashed fast
to a stout cross bar so that the smith
can work at it from all sides, as though,
it was held in a vise on a work bench.
These docile horses submit to being so
bound, but an American or English
horse would in most cases resist until
he was ruined if so treated. The cost
of an entire set of new shoes is three
guilders, or $1.20. American nails
were used, although the shoes were of
local manufacture. Detroit News,
His Fortune's Fonndation.
Marshall Jewell, of Connecticut,
made a good portion of his great for
tune while minister to Russia. The
story runs that he bribed a servant to
give him the secret of the manufacture
of Russia leather. With it he re
turned to America and became
wealthy man by making Russia leath
er in America, Exchange.
j
L.