Demorraic: Alla Bellefonte, Pa, December 12,1890. “THEY SAY.” Who are the vague, mysterious “They” Who always have so much to “say” Of you and me and every one, And every thing that’s said or done ? Wherever human souls abound There “They” are certain to be found, And be as careful as we may There's no escaping their “They say.” “Tney say”—they really do not know—" “Tis ramored Mr. So-and-so Is soon to wed Miss What's-her-name” No one knows whence the rumor came, “They”slyly whisper this and that, Of your and my affairs “They” chat And keep us busy day by day Refuting silly things “They say.” “They say” that nearly every one Has something wreught or left undone That's “really shocking, yet you know You must not say who told you so!” “They” intimate such awful things And give to lies such airy wings That truth itself is led astray That hearkens to the words “They say.” “They say”’—Who says it? Let them dare Their personality declare, For let them long and slyly seek To hide the words they dare to speak. Why should they parentage refuse To words which they have put in use! With whispered rumors let's away Nor lend an ear to what “They say.” ——— “FIFTY CENTS A VICKET,” She was spreading towels and table- cloths on the crisp, short grass to bleach, when he saw her first—a slim, Diana like young creature, with large, limpid eyes, a brown skin not entirely innocent of freckles,and a mass of jetty shining hair, which had broken loose from its coarse horn comb and fell in ink-black ripples down her back. There was & little brook twining its transpar- ent sparkles around the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, and a back-ground of biack-green lanrel, which with the sun-bathed meadow in front, made a sort of rustic picture that struck Paul Gressner’s artistic fancy as he crossed the wooden bridge. “I should like to sketch her,” he thought to himself. “I wonder, now, what she would say to it!” Bat before he could get his pencil and mill-boards out the young Diana had poised her empty basket lightly on her head and was gone. “I’m sorry for that,” soberly ponder- «d Gessner. “She had abril nt Char- lotte Corday sort of a face that would have stood the test of perpetuation on paper!” And then Mr. Gessner went into the inn and set himself at work to elabor- ate the notes of his lecture on “The Literature of Queen Anne's Time,” which was to be delivered the next evening at the village hall. There were plenty of people at the inn. sort of. place, which attacted people in the summer season. Every farm house and cottage in the vicinity was crowd- ed, and a “lecture” was something to stir the stagnation of their every-day life. Moreover, Paul Gessner had a reputation for scholarly polish and graceful wit which had reached even to Brookbridgze. In our New England villages the cooks are often @sthetie, and tne hired meu critics, and every- body was talking of the lecture. “Cant LI go?” said Natiy “Qh, 1 wish I could go!” The towels and table-cloths were all Purple. bleached whiter than #now, between | the daisied grass and the July sunshine, and Natty was sprinkling and folding them now, with quick, deft fingers, in an obcare corner of the kitchen. “You go, indeed I” said Miss Carry Podham, who condescended to wait at table during the crowded season. “You've too much to do in the kitchen, and besides the tickets are fitty cents each!” Naty Parple sighed dolorously. “Fifty cents!” she repeated.” “Qh then of course it's out of the question!” For Naty's slender wages were all of them expended in the support of a good-for-nothing old grandsire who, when he was not drinking a great deal too much wiisky, was suffering un- heard-of agonies with the rheumatism. She never wore anything but calico, and drudged away in the inn kitchen like a modern Cinderella, without any of the eclut which, in ancient story, ap- pertained to that young person. But later in the evening the head stable-man looked into the kitchen, where Cinderella was darning a well- worn table-napkin and Mrs. Podham was preparing brook trout for a break- fast for the morrow’s early travelers. “Where's Jim ? said the head sta- bleman.' “Gone out,” said Mrs. Podham. curtly. : “I want some one to row one of the boarders out on the lake,” said the stableman. “He's a picter-painter, T guess. He wants moonlight effects, he says’ (with a chuckle.) “I'd a deal ruther hev feather-pillow effects my self. Then where is Dick?" “Dick never's on hand when he's wanted,” Mrs. Podham replied. ¢I haven't seen him since supper.” “Then he'll lose a 50 cent job,” said the stableman. “Well, I s’pose I can hunt up some one somewhere.” “Fifty cents!” cried Natty Purple, springing to her feet. “Ill go, Thomas! I'm handy with the oars, and I'm just perishing for a breath of cool air from the water.” “Them napkins isn’t wended,” croaked Mrs. Podham, discouragingly. “I'll finish 'em when I come back," said Natty. coaxingly. “Do let me go, just once I”! t ; So that when Mr. Gessner came out to the edge of the lake with his pictur- esque Spanish cloak thrown across the shoulder, and his sketching apparatus under his arm, Nattie Purple sat in the boat ready to row him whether he would go. “Hello!” said Paul. a girl I” “Yes, I'm a girl,” apologetically confessed Natty. “But I'm a good hand to row, and I know all about the lake. I can take you straight to Echo Cove, where the water-lilies grow “Why you're Brookbridge was a wild, sylvan thickest, and pass the Old Ludian rock, and——" : “Agreed,” said Paul, good-humor- edly. “Bit was there no man about the place to undertake this disagreea- ble gob 2” : : “04, it isn’t disagreeable,” said Nat- ty, earnestly. “I like to row! And, besiaes, I do so much want to earn 50 cents!” “Do yon?’ said Panl, as the little boat, propelled by Nuuy's skillfal strokes, vanished into the deep shad- ow of the overhanging birches that fringed the lovely sides. “May I ven- ture to ask why?” “Oh, yes,” said Natty. “It's no secret. I want to zo to the lecture to- morrow night.” Paul Gessner smiled to himself in the moonlight, as he sat there like a Spanish gondolier. “Do you suppose it will be very in- f teresting?” said he. “Interesting!” echoed Natty, “Of course it wili be. Haven't yon heard ? Mr. Gessner is to deliver a lecture on the literature of Queen Anne's time.” “And who is Mr. Gessner?” de- manded the young man, “If you don’t read the magazines, of course you can’t be expected to know,” said Natty Purple, with some natural impatience. “But [ have read every- thing he writes, He is stopping at onr place now, they tell me.” “Is he?” said Paul. “You are the landlady’s daughter, I presume 2” “No, I am not,” acknowledged hon- est Nutty, “IL help in the kitchen. “I am Natalie Purple.” “Well then, to be honest with you, Miss Purple,” said Paul, feeling a sting of conscious. “I am Paul Gessner!” Nattie gave svch a start that the boat careened dangerously to ove side. “You!” she cried. “Yes, I! Now. if you will take me safe to the E:ho Cove I will give you a complimentary ticket. So there!” “No,” said Nattie, with true woman- ly pride. *I accept no favors, even though I am nothing but a working girl. If I am to have a ticket at all I prefer to earn it.” . Paul was silent. In trath, and in fact, he feit a little ashamed in the pre- sence of this flute-voiced, independent young beauty. : “You must have read a great deal,” said he at last. “Oi! I have,” said Natty, “We are not =o busy in winter, you see, and besides,all the girls lend me their news- papers and magazines. Bat I never expected Lo see a gentleman who wrote books.’ “I hope he comes up to your expec- tation,” said Paul. i “I must have time to make up my { mind about that,” said Natty, with all good faith. And once again our hero found him- self at a loss for something to say. But when he came ont into the moon- bathed glories of the Echo Cove, where all the world was steeped in silver soft- ness and the matted masses of water- lilies were swinging to and fro on the tide like emerald carpets, his tongue was loosened once again, and before tiiey came back, he and Nattie Purple were on terms of the pleasantest ac- quaincanceship. Bat he had not sketched half so much as he had expected. “The light was so uncertain,” he said, “he could reproduce it better by the next day’s memory.” Nettie went to the lecture with her 50-cent piece and listened with a grave and critical intentness, which spurred Paul Gessner on to his highest elocu- tionary eflects. “It was very good,” she said the next day, “very good, indeed. It has given me something to think about. And, oh, dear! I have so much time for thinking 1” “Natty,” said Mr. Gessner (every- body called the girl ‘Natty” here). “I have been wondering why you stay here at all.” “Where else should I stay?’ she questioned him, with simple directness. “Why d> you not go to Boston and teach schooi ?” he questioned. “Oh!” cried Natty, clasping her hands eagerly, “do you think there would be any possibility of my obtain- ing a situation there?” “We must see what can be done,” said Paul, reflectively. So Grandfather Purple was left in charge of a thrifty neighbor and staid by himsel! that winter, while Natty went to Boston to wry her luck in one of the grammar schools. In the spring she came back, apparently transform- ed into a new creature. “I didn’t want you,” growled the old man. “The Widow Malley takes good enough care of me. To tell you the truth, we was married last week, and Mrs. Purple she don’t want no step granddarters around.” “Oh, grandfather, I am so glad!” cried Natalie, tarning pink and white in one breath. “Because I am not coming back to stay, Mr. Gessner —-"' “Oh, I understand,” said Grandfath- er Purple,chuckling hoarsely. “You're going to be married, too,” “Yes,” said Natty, “I'm going to be married.” Thus ended the little Brookbridge idyl. Natalie was happy. So was Paul Gessner. As for Grandfather Purple and his elderly bride, let us hope that they were not very unhappy. For the roses and nightingales of life | can not be enjoyed by every one and | the springtide of the world comes but once.—Amy Randolph in N. Y. Ledger. ———— Pattison and the Guards. The Militia Will Probably Attend the Governor-elect’s Inauguration. HARRISBURG, Pa, Nov. 80.—Ad- | jutant General Hastings recently had a | conference with Governor-elect Pattison, at Governor Beaver’s instance, on the question of the attendance of the Na- | tional Guard at the inauguration on | January 20, and it is stated that Mr. | Pattison expressed himself as willing | that the Guard should be present on that occasion. General Hastings is reported to have said that the matter now re- solves itself into a question of trans- portation, TS ST 0 XT EL, A Reliablo Recipe. i i How to Make a Good Husband Out of | Very Ordinary Material. : ¥ A good husband, it has been wisely ! remarked, like the hare, must be esught ! - before he is cooked. He can not always be told at a glance, and sometimes he must be su: mered and wintered before his real character is discovered, but it is sufe Lo say that when caught he should he found to be composed of the follow- ing ingredtents in saitable proportions : | Mother wit, good nature, gentleness, strength, manliness, purity, courage, But even when the full measure of sone of these necessary qualities is lacking a very good hushand can be secured by a persistent use of the following recipe : Wifaly tact......... = | Wifely forbearance . Wifely good nature.. i God housekeeping. Good cooking .... : Wifely love....... se wesseena... 50 parts There are some brutes upon whom even such a precious mixture will be wasted, but they very few, and a persis- tent application of it, morning, noon and night for two years, is warranted in nine cases out of ten to make a man and a gentleman out of very. commonplace material: Some high authorities on husbandry have insisted that all that was necessary to make a good husband was one hun- dred parts of wifely love freely applied, and that tact, forbearance, good nature and even good cooking were only mani- festations of wifely love. However, it will be evident to our readers that this is all, only a difference of terms. It is necessary to add that this recipe has been tried for many gencrations. In certain families it has been handel down from mother to daughter for many years, and up to date no reliable substitute has been discovered for mak- ing a good busband.—-Golden Rule. —————————— A Big Crop of Icebergs. I was tatking to an old sea captain, one of those men who, although they have abandoned active work, yet listen to every story they hear which relates to the business of their lives. “Do you know,” said he, ‘that in ten years there has been no such namber of icebergs seen in the lane routes to Europe as dur- ing the pust Summer. Nearly eve y ship that came in from the first of June to the end of September. reported ice. Of course we suppose we get most of cur Atlantic ice from Greenland and the op- posite Hudson Bay country, if there be glaciers to the far north on this side. Exactly why the formation of glaciai ice to the North should have been so great during the Winter of '88—89 I do not know, but it must have been something unusual to account for the crop of bergs we bad last Summer. A berg,you know, is the broken offend of a glacier. The glacier moves slowly down the sides of the mountains, forced ¢. travel on by its uwn weight. It pushes its end into the sea and goes ahead until the hfting power given to the water by the differ- ence 1n specific gravity between water and ice is sufficient to overcome the co- hesion of the mass. Then the end sim- ply cracks off and floats, and a berg is born. From the number of bergs seen we can argue back to the amoantof gla- cial ice formed. I see that Captain Roc- quet, of the Britsh steamer Maine, re- ports having seen a berg 2,600 feet long and 450 feet high. That would make a fair-sized berg, but not a great one. Berus have been seen fivé miles long and 600 feet high. Captain Rocquet’s report is interesting from the fact that the bergs seem to have turned up again, h ving disappeared for some six weeks.” —New York Star. How a Fire Startep.—Says the London Daily News: How the terri- ble fire which has destroyed the vil- lage of Moot, in Hangary, originated, is thus tuld by our Vienna correspon: dent: A farmer's wife was ironing in her kitchen, using a flatiron filled with charcoal, when a spark flew out and set fire to her muslin dress. In her fright she ran into the courtyard where her husband and his people were threshing barley. The barley canght fire from her and was no sooner ablaze than the wind blew the sparks in all directions, setting fire to the thatched roofs of the houses which stood in two long rows, forming the main street. All was so sudden and the people were so dumbfounded that for a little time they could not even call for help. Most of the heads of families were in the vineyards and their help was not avail- able until they had been recalled by the alarm bell. The old people and children in the houses had not presence of mind enough to save themselves, It had not rained for a long time, and the wells contained no water, so that noth- ing could be done to save even a single honse. In all 109 houses were destroy- ed and 134 families are without a roof above their heads. The harvest was over and the corn in the barns was consumed in the general conflagration, which was a teriible spectacle as night came on. Ten bodies have been found and some children are missing. Near- ly everybody in the neighborhood is suffering from burns received in rescue work. Cleveland and Hill in Harmony. W asHINGTON, D. C., Nov. 29.—Con- gressman Tracy, of New York, ex-Presi- dent Cleveland's friend, is quoted as say- ing that there is no such antagonism to Mr. Cleveland in the State of New York as many people outside of the State sus- pect. There are many friends of Gov- ernor Hill who would like to see him in the Presidency, but they would not hols the ticket if Mr. Cleveland were to be nominated, There is no feeling to amount to anything. Mr. Cleveland would lose no more Democratic votes than Mr. Hill would if he were running. If a demand from the country for Cleve- land comes all New York will be for him. There is no other country on the globe in which the construction ~of ean- als and the canalization of rivers would be attended by greater advantages than in the United States ; but we bave been so absorbed in railroad building that we have only thought of and talked about such enterprises ; but the time will come when their great importance will be re- cognized. OLD MAN THURMAN. A song for old man Thurmgp, And sing it clear and sipong ; His life has been a sermyy, Now let it ve a song, And this shall be its byrden To give us greatest joy, He calls his old wife “Sweetheart,” And loves her like a boy. There is Bo fairer story In all onr nation’s life; No better, purer glory In all its peace and strife. True 1s that man and steadfast, Fine gold with no alloy, Who calls his old wife “Sweetheart,” And loves her like a boy ! Who cares for his position, On questions of the day ? He has a higher mission, A nobler part to play ! Smiling and patient ever, Though Age and Pain annov, He calls his old wite “Sweethear:,” And loves her like a boy! A fig for flowery diztion Of specious eloquence ! A fig for all the fiction Of wealth and vain pretense ! Here is a man whose glory Noenvy can destroy, He calls his old wife “Sweetheart,” And loves her like a bo. ! We well conld spare the splendor, And tinsel of these days; Give us true hearts and tender, And plain old fashion ways ! Of men like Allen Thurman This world will never cloy, Who calls his old wife ‘Sweetheart,’ Aud loves her like a boy ! —Georce Hortouin Chicago Herald, He Thinks The: e's Millions in It. It isn’t often that a newspaper report- er is approached by those who have a dead sure thing on a fortune and given an opportunity to literally “waller in wealth,” but such an opening came to a member of The Free Press city staffa few days ago. It was a young man from Corunna who had the scheme, and, re- garding the world as his oyster, he was intent upon opening it without unneces- sary delay. “D> you want to make more money in one day than you are now muking in a month ?”" he asked the reporter. The reporter said, strictly in con- findence and not for publication, that he did “Well, you 2an do it. Now here is ENE TLL LE TR ITE th ee 7 Aunt Shaffer’s Whim. An Old Lady Who is Put to Sleep by the Beating of a Drum. Among the queer people in this part of the world, says a letter from Findiay, Obio. is Mrs. Ann Shaffer, familiarly kuown us “Aunt Ann.” Shelives on a farm with her husband about ten miles from this city, is over 79 years old, and in fuil possession of all her faculties. Her chief peculiarity=for she has a number—is that she cannot sleep unless her husband beats the drum in front of mer or winter, night ater night, the roll of old Jacob Shaffer's drum can be heard by the neighbors for miles around as he leads the charge which his wife 1s making into dreamland. He hasa snare dram which he made for himself during the early years of the war, and, us he was incapacitated from going nto the army by reason of. physical disabili- pany of “home guards” which drilled in his neighborhood, first developed her strange mania. Be- ing of a highly-nervous temperament and much wrought up over the war, she could not sleep at night unless her has- band wus awake. mitted to sleep until his wife journeyed into the realms of slumber, he put 1n time practicing upon his drum. In this way “Aunt Ann’ grew into the habit of falling asleep to the systematic music of the drum, and soon it became a necessity. She could not sleep without solacing sound, and thus the years have gone on, every night the same. About 8 o'clock : gets out his drum and goes to work as it ne were leading a chargeon a battery, and then gradually drops into slower and more soothing music, until, at the end of an hour's steady beating, he feels convinced that his wife is sound asleep. Then he puts aside his sleep-producer and joins the partner of his joys and sorrows on her excursion to slumberland. er —— “Do I Look Like a Lady ?” About thirty years ago a young girl my scheme, and I'll let you in, because you're just the sort of a man I want in this thing. Here is a stick of Dr. Wind- gall’s medicated candy —six sticks to the | pound —warranted to cure coughs, colds, influenza, brouchitis, laringitis, tonsilitis and all troubles of the thorax, and , borax, and things of that sort. That's your rack: t, and you'll have to study up s0 you can jingle it off and never ship a cog. Butthis candy is all right as candy, the medication being extra. It costs us thirteen cents a pound and we sell it for toirty, or five cents a stick, with the | chance of drawing vold orsilver money, | every seventh or eighth package con- taining a $5 gold p eceor ten silver dimes. Now our plan is to hirea vacant store in some town wherever we go, engage a brass band and geta crowd. You’ve no idea how they crowd around a brass band in a country town.” “But how can we afford to give away a $5 gold piece every seven or eight sales and pay rent and pay the band ?” asked the reporter. “I'm coming to that. When the band has finished its first piece you get up behind the counter and begin to warble your little warb, and sell the stuff 7 “Oh, yes; Isell thestuff. And you —what do you do 1” : “Why, I'm the young farmer that finds a gold piece in every package he buys, see ?" BD — The American Nomad. A curious outgrowth of the rivalries | of American cities is the practice that ' obtains so generally of offering bonuses and pecuniary inducements to manutac- turers to move their piants. After a fire that burned down a part of a sewing machine factory the other day the own- ers received so many proposals from as- piring cities that wanted to take them in that they were obliged to publish a notice to the effect that only a small part of their works had been burned, and that they were not open to proposals for adoption. Any factory or establish- ed business employing labor can have its choice nowadays from a long list of cities, new and old, any of which wiil give it a site for a factory, pay the ex- penses of moving, and perhaps contri- bute substantially toward the construe- tion of a new building. People who own land oraae engaged in business in cities realize that it pays them to have their cities grow, and they are willing to hire desirable inhabitants to come to them. They rely upon getting their money back in the increased value of land or the general increase in business. The result is that the migratory disposi- tion already so pronounced in these days is intensified, and it has become a familiar thing not merely forindivinuals to move but for great aggregations of workingmen to shift the scene of their activities from one city to another, sometimes thousands of miles away. Time was when where an average man found himself living there he continued to live, unless circumstances of excep- tional urgency impelled him to change his residence. It 1s different now. Transportation has become so cheap, and travel so easy, that the ties of local- ity sit very lightly on the average Amer-- 1can, and the fact that you find him set tled this year in New York or Pennsy I- vania affords you a very uncertain bass for expecting to find him next year in the same place. When you hear of him again, if he hasn’t moved to Texas, or Tacoma, or Southern California, or Maine, or Norta Dakota, you feel that he must have had some excepticnally good reasons for staying at home. Men used to wag their heads and croak about the inability of rolling stones to gather moss. We have changed all that, Moss is at a discount and there is a pre- mium upon rolling. — From “The Point of View,’ in Scribner. ——The Russian czar’s wardrobe vies in extent and variety with that of Hen- ry Irving. His imperial majesty has forty-five different uniforms, all of which he has worn save one, that of a Russian field marshal. Although the titular head of his army, the czar has vowed never to wear the dress of a field marshal until this rank shall have been conferred upon him by the other field marshals after a victorious war. {in a western city was given charge of a | Sunday school class of” rough boys, as- {ually known as “river rats,” who had i never been in any school house before. | When she entered the room she found them lounging on the desks and benches | wearing their hats, puffing vile cigars, a | defiant leer un every face. They greel- ed her with a oud laugh, and one of them exclaimed : “Well, sis, you goin’ to teach us?” She stood si.ent until the laugh was (over, and then said, quietly : “Do I look like a lady ?” An astonished stare was the only re- ply which they gave. “Because,” she continued gently, “gentlemen, when a lady enters the room, take off their hats and throw away i their cigars.” The lowest American secretly believes i himself to be a gentleman, and in a mo- | ment every hat was off aud the lads | were arranged in orderly attention. | So remarkable was the success of this ‘girl in managing and influencing men of the roughest sort that she made it the work of her life, says the Youth's Com- panion. She established clean and "respectable boarding- houses for sailors and boatmen, and reading and coffee- ' rooms for laborers, and founded an Or- der of Honor, the members of which strove to live sober, christian lives them- { selves and to help their fellows to do the | same. | LE ES SAE Clever Defense. Baron Dal Borgo, the Danish envoy at Madrid about fifty years ago, was the soal of honor and good nature, though the had neither the cleverness nor the brilliancy belonging to certain -diplomatists. One incident, however, { shows that he could act, when occasion arose, and that with boldness and even dramatic power. | During the childbood of Queen Isa- bella there were frequent political com- motions, and one night Espartero, the regent, baving incurred the displeasure of the adverse party, was pursued | through the streets by an infuriated mob. He ran into the house where Baron Dal Borgo had an apartment, rang the bell wildly, and as soon as the door was opened slipped inside and barred it. arrived und threatened to break open the door if the fugitive were not deliv- ered to them at once. Baron Dal Bor- go himself unfastened the bolts and ap- peared on the threshold. He pointed to the Danish flag, which he had laid across the entrance, and said calmly : “The man you seek is here. Come and take him if you like, but if one of you steps on the colors of my country 1 will make Spain responsible to Denmarl for the insult 1”? The ‘attacking party paused, awed into sobriety, and then turned about and marched quietly away.— Youth's Companion. N> DANGER.—*“Beg pardon, sah,” observed the tough looking waiter sug- gostively. “Gents at this table usually — er—remember me, sah.” “I don’t wonder,” said the customer cordially. “That mag of yours would be hard to forget.” And he picked up his check and strolled leisurely in the direction of the cashier. —— —— Last year’s floods sent about 400,- 000,000 feet of lumber down the Sus- quehanns, and a lnmberman’s exchange was organized at Columbia to reap some benefit from logs caught. To-day they have 10,000,000 feet of lumber in stock in the yards of their saw mill, and to date the exchange has divided $300,000 among its members. It is estimated the profits will reach $500,000. ——Did you ever think of how much space the people who die every year re- quire for decent burial ? If one could be content with a grave 2 by 6 feet, 3,630 bodies could be interred 1n one acre of ground, allowing nothing for walks, monuments, roads, ete. On this crowded plan London’s annual dead, numbering about 81.000, would fill a cemetery of about twenty-three acres. the house for at least an hour ; and su:- | ties, he did what he could for the coun- | try by acting as the drummer for a com- | It was during this period tha: his wife | As he was not per- | had first | Uncle Jacob | Presently the ringleaders of the mob EERSTE A Financial Genius, He Offered to -Suve 240,000 Fraues and Faieed, but Got a Free Dinner. A needy Frenchman once heard that a marringe was on the tapis between the daughter of a certain wealthy nerchant and the son of a rich banker. The dow- ry that was to be given with the bride was 500,000 francs. The merchant was well known to be on the lookout for a | good bargain or to save a dollar, so on | this the Parisian founded his h pes of a good dinner at least. | Heaccordinsly called at the mor- | chant’s residence and asked the privilege | of seeing him on very important busi- ness. After alittle while he was aduit- : ted to his presence. “The matter, sir, on which I called”? "be began, “involves for vou the prac- | tical saving of two hundred and iy | thousand frances. I7- : “Oh, my dear sir,” interrupted the merchant, “this is too seriou: a maer to be discussed before dinner, and us 1t is {now my hour for dining pray take din- | ner with me, and we will afterward con. { sider your proposition at our leisure.” Having partaken of a meal that lef % { pleasant flavor in the anfortunate’s wom | ory the rest of his life, they retired 10 | the merchant’s study. | “And now 1 am readv to hear your prop: