ERATE A ET A ER SET Py Demonic alan. EE Tr A SA PE YA ably dreary when the gloom of winter | maybe she won't believe a word I say.’ settled down upon it. “He kinder smiled at that, and We urged her to come with us, bat |said,— ° : she was as immovable as a rock, until, | “ ‘You only go and offer to bring Bellefonte, Pa., Feb. 17,1893 at last, my husbaud laid on her his her to her husband. Tell her that command as her pastor, and the guard- | Frank issick and wants her, and you'll THE INCURABLE HURT. *Tain't likely ez a awkward chap. Like I am, big and stupid, *Ud ever go a monkeyin’ ‘round A dandy kid like Cupid ; But, major, dern my ugly mug, I done it once, fer certain, An’ ef I live a hundred years The thing ’ll keep on huntin’. I never knowe’d a woman's ways Tell one day little Kitty, Her that’t the banker's only gal, Come down from Timber City, An’ stoppin’ at our boardin’-house, Begun her purty flirtin’, I guess with all the boys around, An’ me, that's doggoned certain. Them eyes uy her'n shined like the stars, That skeckles night all over, An’ both her cheeks purtier than Two medders red with clover. An’ when she talked—good Lordy, me! Why can’t a man take warnin’ ?— It seemed to me like all the songs The bird sings in the mornin’. 1 drinked it in an’ wanted more, An she, I guess unthinkin’, Wauz tickled half to death to see A thirsty man a drinkin’; An’ let me have it every day, From June clear to October, Tell I wuz drunk and crazy wild, An’ she thought.I wuz sober. At last I up an’ told her straight That I wuz fairly dyin’ Fer love uv her—and dern my boots, She just broke down a cryin’, An’ told me it wuz all in fun, That she wuz only flirtin’— An’ ef I live a hundred years The thing ’ll keen on hurtin’. — Free Press. CT TERT A STRANGE STORY. Poor Mary! As I watched her sit ting by the window day after day, care- ful never to go where a gleam from the water could catch her eye, as I saw her pale face bend over her work and heard her subdued tones to the children, I knew that the past was ever with her, and that she was hourlyliving over her dreadful sorrow. A few friends of us had found a little nook on the lake shore that exactly Far from the gay, madding crowds which wasder up and down the country and are fast spoiling the natural beauties of our land, this love- ly spot seemed to ave waited for our suited us. eoming. ‘We soon built .a number of cosy cot- | tages and came -down from the city to take possession, installing our house: hold divinities,the babies, the nurs es and children of all sorts and sizes, | and before long were as much at home | ag the birds and eguirrels whose quiet | we invaded. Mary and Fraok Hunter were the ian of her boy. He urged ber for the | see whether she won't come.’ sake of the poor child now lett to her “Well, of course I couldn’t stand alone, to come with us to our own home, | that, so at break pf day I started. I and there wait in patience the will of | rode fiity miles to the nearest railroad God, and after long persuasion she Jon; and here I am, ready to start yielded. Very sadly our litle party | right back with Frank's wife.” turned back to our home, and poor | Mary neither wept nor fainted, but Mary moved as in a waking dream. | sank right down on her knees and As time passed by she faded into a | poured, out her thanks to the man who mere shadow of her once bright cheer- had come with such good vews. fal self. Patient and subdued she |Strangeto say, she never doubted the seemed almost to forget her own iden- | story for one moment, and when some tity, and to live only in her sorrow and | of the family gently hinted that it her child. We could not allow her— | would be well to make some inquiries she did not seem to think of doing so— | before trusting herself with the stran- to go back to that home now so sadly | ger, she turned on us like an angry li- desolate. So for nearly two years she | oness deprived of her young. We had lived with us, a loving sister to the eld- | no heart nor courage to protest against ers, a tender teacher to the little ones. |any of her plans and could only give Accustomed as [ was to her quiet de- | her all pessible aid in preparing for the meanor, I was surprised one morning | journey, and promised to keep the to see her enter the breakfast room | little boy until she returned. with a hot flush on her cheek,and in| The strange man needed rest and re- her eyes a restless glitter ithat told of a freshment, and these she urged upon troubled mind and a waekiul night. I | him, waiting upon him herself, and asked no question, however, but waited | trying to show her gratitude in every until the children left the room, when | way possible. ; suddenly she came hurrying toward me Very early the next morning she threw herself upon my footstool, and | started on her long journey to an un- buried her tears in the folds ot my drese. | known place, and in care of an un- “Mary, darling Mary, what is it? known individual. But she was like a gaid I, tenderly smoothing he hair, new being; all her languor, all her “@h, Mrs. Gray, do not think me | wearied, haggard looks bad vanished, wild,” she cried, ‘‘do not reprove me and she seemed endowed with wonder- for my folly—but I know that Frauvk is ful strength. © All traces of sadness bad still alive. All night I heard his voice | left ber face and in her voice there was calling ‘Wife, wife!’ He is not a thrill of wictory. dead? Ihave never believed thathe| It was several days befere we re- could die and leave me. What will be- | ceived any message from her, and then there were but a few lines to tell us of her safety, of ‘her husband’s rapid con- valescence and that we might expect them in a short time. When she would explain all. The story of Frank Hunter's dist covery and his expected rewrn was rapidly circulated about town, and all of hisold friends and neighbors as- gembled at the depot'to bid him wel- come home. Aad to see him clasp his baby boy and wife once more together in his arms, was something never to be forgotten by any of us. In the quiet of bis home he told us the story of his lite while abeent, and it adds one more to the already long list of truths ithat are stranger than fiction. «I ghall never forget.” said he, “how happy and light-hearted I felt when 1 started out fishing that morning. You know I did wot often have a holiday, go I thought I would get sll the good there was to be had. I remembered come of me if I do not find my poor Frank, who needs me so much, and calls for me with so much longing ?”’ She seemed so excited, andgo unlike her usual quiet self, thatI was half afraid to dispute her, although 1 pitied her for the sad delusion. “My dear little sister,” said I sooth- ingly, you are broken down with care and grief, and dreams have troubled your poor tired brain. Strange fancies come to us all when we are out of sorts, you know. Will you not rest to-day and try to overcome this restless fancy ?” She raised her face toward mine and wearily sighed. 4It was no fancy, dear friend, [ can- not prove it, but I know it is true. Frank is alive and called fer me last night.” Then with a look of patient grief, she arose and left me. AN day she | seemed to be thinking deeply, and to avoid the presence of the family, even young married -couple of our party. Not exactly bride and bridegrooom, however, for they drought with them a rollicking baby boy. Neyer were there ; two gayer, livelierimortals, and so de- | voted to-each other; eo well satisfiei | with life were they, that it was like eo- | joying perpetual sunshine merely to ol her baby boy. Next morning I was shocked to see the drawn lines about her mouth, and the haggard eyes that told of another sieepless night. £he came down to breakiast with that strange air of ex- citement about her, and all through how I used to enjoy paddling about alone in arow-boat when I was a little boy, ea the Illinois River, so that was why I wouldi’t let the little darkey boy go with me. I fastened my lines to the boat, and made for the deep water in the lake,and there I had some good luck fishing, and then I have them with ue. with as many projects as a pair schoolboys, it was not long until the two were at the bead and front of our arrasgements. Oh, what gay times we used to have! Especially svhen our small feet of can- | oes were seattered-over the lake, and flitting like white-minged,bisds over the smooth and shining surface. But onenight theplacid water turned ghty cauldron, full ot seething foam that *aubbled.and tossed as from Oat into a mi the fathomlsss depths of Inferno. on the shere we hutldled together, our little fair-weather commnwenity, gerly watching if, perchance, we might caich some glimpse of the laggard boats. Ounetby one they slowly came to port, and all the time the wind moaned, and the wraves dashed againet the murky sky. Hurrying up and down the shore poor Mary flew, wringing her bands in agony, her clothes drenched with the spray, her pale face and gleaming eyes turned to the darkening water. vain ske cried end called her basband by name. Aliithe other boats had this time reached the shore, but ao tid- ings came from Frank. Ail night waited, the men and whe fisher people working bard to find some clew ¢o his At last, just whea the . cold light of early morning lifted & por- «tion of the night's black pall, a breken .boat came floating up:and was thrown upon theshore, rightat her feet, as the She had . whereabeuts. (poor wife stood evaiting. ~ceased her wailing and stood silent «one in a dream. When daylight eame we gathered wound her and tried to draw her from tthe scene, but she pazed at us as one who hears not a single werd. Tearless nosy, and overcome with grief, she We tried to cheer her with the hope that seemed a pale image of despair. overtaken with the storm, her husba bad found to all her inquiries, even that belief longer,;remained to us. All through the second day and t long, long night poor Mary waited, while pitying neighbors searabed vain for the missing one, revealed the depths of her on, until at length all hope perish save in the besom of the stricken wi She could—she would not—give him, up, although ‘the boatmen who spent their lives on’ the lake assured her was useless to fancy any man could "have escaped alive from the fury such a dreadful storm. Weeks went by, and no tidings came to cheer her or settle the question his fate. In the early autumn our party w scattered, and the cottages on the lake shore were left deserted. Oh how hard poor Mary begged that she might be left there to await her husband’s com- Poor young creature, of course ing! we could not leave her alone in th wild spot. place in the summer time, but unepea Full of tun, and i refuge in some neigh- boring port; bat as the mext day passed, and no tidings came in response Her self control was wonderful ‘as the hours passed by. Only her compressed lips and the wild agony in ber lovely eyes despair. Days passed and still the search went It was the brightest, gayest, | the day she moved about as one who hears a far off voice, unheard by oth- er ears. At sunset we est together. after the little:enes had gone to sleep,cwhen sud- |denly the peal of the doorbell rang through the silent house. Mary sprang to her feet, ber slender figure drawn to itsifull height, her face set and intense in ithe rays ot the fad ing sua ; indeed, she seemed to me as the embodiment of an expectant hear- er. Ft was but a moment before the door of our room ‘was opened and’ a rough but kiokly voice spoke tous : “Does Mrs. Frantz Hunter live here? Can l-speak to her?” Bhe.sprang past me with a.cry, to meet ithe man who stood there, all trav- el stained and dusty. “Oh, sir, do you some from. my hus band? Ob, have you come to take me to kim ?”’ “Well, upon my word, thatie the truth!” said the mao, drawing a long breath of surprise. No doubt he had come expecting to be met with disbelief, or at least that he would have to prove his words. With a look of great relief he said,— “Yeg, d bave come from a man who calls-himselt Frank Hanter. He isin our camp, up in the Pioeries, very sick with brain fever. He hired out with us mighty nigh two years ago. Wien he came to our place he was a lone- some looking sort of a ebap ; the boys used to pity him, for he never talked like he had any kin above ground, .er any friends, either. All along he has been kind of dull and slow in his ways, and two weeks ago he suddenly tock down sick with a fever. He lay in his buck, moaning sorter stapidlike, not speaking a mord for several days. ' But two nights ago, as I wassitting by him a-watching to eee if he wanted a drink or any such thing, all of a sudden he raised up in bed, and called out,— “1 Wite, wife’ two or three times as natural as you please. “¢Who are you calling, Frank? eaid I. “ ‘Why, I'm calling Mary, my wife, of course; isn’t Mary here? and he leaked around and called again several times. : 4 hardly knew what to do or eay for fear.of making him restless, so I said,— 4 4Never mind, she'll come before long.’ ¢ He lay there and looked at me, and then clapped his hands to his head, and was 6till for a very long time. Presently he glanced up, and his eyes seemed ¢nore quiet and natural than I had ever seen them. He eaid,— “Joe, Iam too weak to tell you about it, but I have a wife. She must beat Greenfield. Won't you go and bring her to me?” “Now I didn’t know what to think or do, for I thought that surely a man who had given his wife the bounce for nigh unto two years must be a queer sort of a feller, or else she must be a queer sort of a wife, so I tried to put him off, but bless you, it was no use. The more I begged oft the more excit- ed he was, and I was atraid he would go into fits, and maybe die, and then I'd be to blame. Finally I says,— that he will shoot any man in whose “¢[ don’t believe your wife will come ' possession it may be found. The book concluded togo ashore on the side where the woods were thick. I drew the boat up, butijust then my foot slip: ped onthe wet sand; the boat elid back into theswater and I fell down striking my forebead on a large, sharp pointed boulder. ‘Now you will be surprised when I tell you that I remember noth- ing more until I found myself in the Piaeries, in the lumber camp. Yet the men say that I came to them in the middle of August, so that I must have wandered through the woods for geveral weeks, unconscious. I must have had the outward appearance of sanity, for I was somehow fed and clothed, as the days went by. When I started out fishing I bad a considera- ble eum of money in pocket, and when I reached the camp it was nearly gone. Then follows a period in which my men- tal conditien must have been very ‘peculiar. The meneay that gave my name in ithe usual manuver, and seemed likesather people, except that I did not like to talk ; but I remember nothing of my feelings, and notice. At last my torpor was broken up bya simple eecurrence. One day the mail was distributed, and I sat watching the men read their letters and papers. It is strange that it never occured to me to wonder why I received no letters. Presently I saw a man hide bis face in his band and sob bitterly. “ (What can be the matter?” I asked. “My child—my boy is dead,’ said the poor fellow, groaning and sobbing worse than before. And then he went on to tell me how smart his little boy was, how beautiful, how he loved him, how he was trying to save money just for the sake of the boy, and so on, as men will talk when the very fountains of grief are broken up within them. 1 listened for a while, and suddenly my brain seemed on fire. For the first time since my fall on the stone, I be- gan to havea conscious identity. I looked at my hands, my clothing, and tried to recall memories of the past, but in vain. My mental struggles were frightful, and términated in brain fever. Then all at once the past came baek to me ; the rest you know.” Mary looked at me with shining eyes. "He called me, and I heard,” she said softly. “You believe it now ?” I pressed her hand im silence; I could not speak ; surely this was a love which passed human understanding! averly Magazine. of | all all “a- up In by we as nd’ no he in ed fe. ——Jolly Bachelor, “I found my first gray bair to-day. Miss Antique. “Indeed ! Is it =a sign of age?” J. B. “I don’t know. I found it where your head rested on my coat last nsght. BARBIES, SS it of The Boston Girl—‘ ‘Do many Chica- go men live by the pen ?” The Chicago Girl—*‘Oh, yes out at the stock yards ; lots of them.’’-— New York Herald. ——1In the wild and wooly West, when a man loans a book and fails to get it returned, he merely announces of as at Queen Liliuokalani’'s Blunder. Her Reliance on the Aborigines for Support and the Causes That Led te it. A Washington telegram in the New York Sun says: Had the dethroned queen of the Sandwich islands been sat- istied to follow the course of her prede- cessor and fill the restricted sphere pre- scribed for the monarch by the constitu- tion, she might and unquestionably would be reigning to-day. And it can- not be said that this would have been an unreasonable requirement. ~ The consti- ution, as revised, left the sovereign of Hawaii very far from being: a mere fig- urehead. The sovereign had a veto power, and & decision of the supreme court, after a “Uispute that had almost threatened another revolution, made this a persoral prerogative, not dependent on the concurrence of the cabinet. An- other decision of the supreme court had allowed the queen to choose ber cabinet instead of accepting and continuing that of her predecessor that she began her reign with a victory over those who would further restrict the privileges of the throne. Her income and perquisites as sovereign were very liberal, especially in view of the small demands for living nounced by the leading ccmmercial resi- | dents. ! Then came her effort to promote a new constitution, under the advice of her | cabal of native counsellors. i { It has been | urged that this would have restored | an old condition of things; but it was none the less revolutionary, and, while the purpose was balked, the foreign resi- | dents took the will for tte deed. The | queen had probably counted on an up- | rising of the native people. But appar- ently she did not reflect enough on the pitiable weakness shown in the fiasco of 1890, or the strong force of marines and bluejackets abroad the Boston, or the fact that the chief military organization in Honolulu was that of the foreign resi- dents. She was leaning on the weakest of reeds. : : It was a fearful apd fatal blunder. Almost instantly she seems to have real- ized whither race sympathy and person- al ambition had led ber. But her steps could not be retraced, and her over- throw followed at once. TG ——————— Stumbling on Fortunes. How Gold Mines Have Been Discovered By Mere Chance. expenses and entertainment in Hawaii. She had also an appuinting power which allowed her to place friends and favor- ites in places of trust and profit. She had a strong native support, backed by race, prejudice and loyalty. The first feeling with which the news of her unnecessful coup d’etat and its prompt penalty was received in this country must have been one of surprise that she could have so risked her throne The explanation of her conduct, as it may now be derived from the details brought by the commissioners and those of private letters from the islands, seems to be traceable to a union in her of race sympathy and personal ambition. Had her husband lived, with his strong Amer- ican proclivities and his ability to see whither the queen’s course was tending, his warnings, we may surmise, would have been timely. But his death follow- ing ber succession to the throne, left her free to consult the two motives already spoken of. As to race sympathy, it has already been stirred for some time through the efforts of the natives, and particularly of the half breeds to found a political party whose creed was embodied in its watchward ‘Hawaii for the Hawaiians.” It was & proof of the inherent weakness of this party that it had once sought to carry out its measures through constrain- ing Kalakaua to abdicate. And an in- dication of the small account made of this native element was furnished by the remission of penalities tor an offence of so grave a character, Wilcox, the leader of the revolution, being afterward, in fact, allowed to take his place in the legisla- ture as if nothing serious had happened. Still, the queen’s ambition saw in this movement an appliance which she could use against the foreign residents. The result was that a sovereign coming to the throne under much promise, and with many favoring circumstances, first frittered away her chances of retaining it, and then flung them all to risk on a single coup and lost. ber favor.at the start was the willingness of all to take her as a ruler. This was evident from the fact that no such out- break occurred at her accession as at the election of Kalakaua in 1874, Asto the aborigines, the conspiracy of July 30, 1890, under Wilcox and his half-breed friends, had proposed to overthrow Kal- akaua in ber favor, That she was ac- ceptable to the British and Canadians among the foreign residents was clear from her avowed British sympathies. As tor the Americans, while regretting Kal- akaua, a firm friend of the United States, they knew that a majority of the crops, commerce and capital was in their bands. Perhaps no one would have under- taken to predict that the dynasty would be continued in the person of Princess Kaiulani, the heir apparent, although full provision was made for that purpose But it did seem likely enough that the queen, under these favoring circum- stances, and with the great prosperity of the islands te aid her, would be able to hold the throne during ber lifetime, or at least for years to come. But events soon proved less propitious ‘than they had looked.