TUE.
Bemoratic {ally
Bellefonte, Pa., Aug. 31, 1894.
man .
WHEN BABY GOES TO SLEEP.
When Katie takes the baby, and the nodding
little head :
Gives token that it's weary and would like to
go to bed,
An air of death-like stillness ‘bout the house
begins to creep,
And SvSrYhody’s silent when the baby goes to
sleep.
Sometimes I get so frightened that I almost
lose my breath—
If I chance to make a bit of noise it scares me
most to death.
When from ‘neath a tiny eyebrow I see a half-
way peep
From big blue eyes, when baby has almost
gone to sleep.
And when at last a twinkling of a tiny smile
appears :
On lips that angel kisses softly touch as dream
ing nears. 3
1 give a sigh of gladness, that is full of thanks,
and deep,
That the world can once more move on, for
baby’s gone to sleep.
Edward N. Wood, in Atlanta Constitution
JESSICA'S LOVE AND PRIDE.
A Thrilling Story of Life on the Texas Frontier.
BY WILLA LLOYD JACKSON'
The little town of Simpkinsville lay
torpid under the brazen sky of August.
Even the dogs, a gaunt, restless breed,
had succumbed to the languor: that
brooded almost visibly over the place
and lay asleep close to the shadow of
the few houses, only blinking as the
flies grew more daring, but too lazy to
resent it after the approved manner of
getting rid of these enemies. The
‘“‘gtore,” as the one emporium of the
town was called, had its usual comple:
ment of loungers before its open door,
but conversation had dwindled down
to an occastonal request for a “chaw,”
which was generally granted in silence
the exertion of producing it affording
the owner au excuse for a yawn and a
lengthening of the body.
The gentleman who administered to
the requirements of the public had had
no customer for something over an
hour and had left Lis bar, which made
only half a man of him, leaving his
nether proportions a matter of faith,
and sauntered out to join the group dis-
posed at the door. This broke the
spell and presently another in this en-
chanted region, like the palace in the
poem, rose to his feet, a tall, long:
limbed young ranchman, and strolled
with an affected air of indifference to-
ward the house about a hundred yards
away. This house boasted of the rare
adornment of a porch from which
hung yellowed gourd vines. This |
porch was unmistakably a concession
to fashion, but it gave the cotiage a
frowning, high-shouldered aspect.
Under the gourd vines sat a man in
his shirt sleeves, but this was indeed
the prevailing mode in Simkinsville,
coats only being worn on Sundays and
on election days as a comphment to
the Deity and the government.
This man was old Vanvechten, the
pioneer of the county, and his long,
white beard and voble features remind-
ed one of an old lion, sirong and
courageous still, though contented
with laurels already won. From with-
in the house came a voice singing nas-
ally “Old Hundred” with an evident
enjoyment of the mournful numbers,
whilein the doorway eat a girl of 17
stringing scarlet peppers, which ran
through ber fingers like living coals.
She would have been beautiful in ar-
tistic eyes the world over, but the peo-
ple ot Simpkineville took no pleasure
in the warm coloring of her hair, the
delicate contour of cheek and brow,
with the exquisite curve of her thin
sensitive lips. Her dress was of calico
from which the figures had all long
since faded, leaving it a creainy white,
contrasting faintly with the snowiness
of her throat, from which it fell away,
revealing every dainty line as she
turned her head now and then to note
her progress through the heaps of pep-
pers by her side.
The man from the store reached the
steps of the porch, and ostensibly
cleared his throat, though the ‘hem’
was intended to awaken the old man.
It bad the desired effect, and the own-
er of the house turned his still piercing
eyes on the visitor.
“Ha, Cagp, that you ? Come right in
Jessicy, bring a cheer, quick. By the
great horn spoon, what won’t a man
do when he’s a-courtin’. But onct
merried and the woman can do all
she’s a mind to.”
Casper having assisted Jessica in
bringing forth the chair, the girl re-
sumed her seat on the doorsill, while
the man that loved her went back to
talk to her father, but it was to steal
many a sly glance at the head bent
demurely over her task.
“What air the news, Casp? has that
thar dun heifer got home yit ? "Twar’nt
no later than last night that I ’lowed
that I seen her pass this way, but
M’ria stood me out it war Young's
cow with the broken horn.”
“It must bave been her, for mine
ain’t come home yet. Yes'day one of
the men from the Lilly ranch told me
he saw just such another critter run-
ning with Bernardo’s cattle, and thai
she’d been branded lately.”
“In Bernardo’s herd ?"’ echoed old
old Vanvechten, also eyeing his
daughter. “I always sayed that these
hyar Mexicans ain’t to be trusted
further than yur kin see ‘em. Irs |
born in 'em to steal and to give you a
Judas kiss whiles they’s actually run-
ning thar hands into your pockets a.
clearing you out.”
“Well, Bernardo's only half a Mexi-
can,” murmured Caspar, for which he
was rewarded by a flash of Jessica's
kindled eyes into his own adoring ones
though it was only for a moment, for
her long black lashes fell again, mak-
midnight on her fair cheek.
“Course I know that well’s you. I
knowed his father, and for a white
man Reese Barton was as like a Mexi-
can as it is in the natur of things. No
great harm in him tell you got him in
to a tight place, when he'd let every
friend on earth goto save his own skin
Why, onct me and him—" bat these
reminiscences were cut short by Caspar
rising to his feet and shading his eyes,
straining them to make out the small
moving body which had just showed
above the horizon. Youand I would
probably not have been able to distin-
guish it from the black dots of cattle
which, like sharp breaks of notes in the
monotone, were scattered about the
prairie, but Caspar Lane's tutored
eyes told him that it was a body of
rapidly riding mounted men.
“Who is it?’ asked old Vaunvechten
rising to his teet and advancing to the
edge of the porch.
“Can't tell yet. May be cow-boys
from Kelley's ranch. It’s about time
for them to clean up the town again for
a frolic.”
“They’ll find the Sheriff after them
some day, and then these hyar cut-
tings up won’t seem as funny as they
do now.” The old man went back to
hie chair of home manufacture, with a
cane bottom, and lighting his pipe, sat
mumbling to his guest. “Lemme see,
what were we talking 'bout ? Oh, yes,
Bernardo Barton. I knowed his fath-
er twenty year, and I declare I war
plum outdone when he married that
greaser’s daughter. They had money
then, but that couldn't make her
white.”
“That ain’t no cow-boys,” said Cas-
par, suddenly rising once more. “They
ride too sober for that. I do believe it
is the Sheriff and his posse.”
II
The beat had growa well nigh un-
supportable. The eye could scarcely
left itself to the glowing sky, and down
where the earth and sky met there
was a darkeuing of the line. The
horsemen rode steadily on and eoon
revealed themselves as ten or twelve
stalwart Texans clad to a man in blue
jeans, with wide felt hats, and from
every belt swung pistols and cartridge
belts, while every right hand carried
the long, black shape of a rifle. Old
Vanvechte# walked majestically down
the path that joined the road before
the cottage, and as the leader, a small
muscular man with quick, dark eyes,
that would have been good natured
had it not been for theirsternness with
the dignity of duty, came abreast of
him, the old pioneer cried out with a
hearty intonation of friendship veiling
his curiosity :
“How're you, Sheriff ? Sorry for the
poor devil that’s got you on his trail-”
The Sheriff grinned and halted, his
men doing the same, glad of the op-
portunity to uncover and wipe the
drops from brow and face. *
“Kaint you ’light for a minute ?
Hello, thar, Jessicy, fetch that thar
leetle jug with the red stopper, draw a
bucket of cold water and git your ma
to git out the sugar. ’Light, gentle.
men, 'light, and come right in.”
The officer hesitated, but the men-
tion of the “leetle jug” settled it. It
was not in human nature to resist its
pleading to be relieved, so he leaped
lightly te the ground and followed by
his by-no-means reluctant posse, tied
his horse. The party trooped in and
established itself it various postures
about the porch, on the steps and the
floor itselt. Mrs. Vanvechten stopped
singing to come forth and greet the
majesty of the law as represented un-
der roof.
“What's the trouble now, Sheriff ?”
asked his host, eager to hear. The
officer pursed his lips and shook his
head, but once again the jug proved all
powerful, as Jessica brought it out
with water and sugar aud he dropped
the one word ‘Bernardo’ from his ton-
gue.
The girl's face turned white and the
great grey eyes with blue lights seem-
ed to harden into granite with fear and
horror. But she stepped back and
only Casp, with a lovers quick com-
prehension and sympathy for his loved
one, discerned her trouble.
“I always knowed he'd come to
grief.” said her father, with a keen
relish of the situation, forgetting that
the man of whom he spoke had been
his guest a thousand times, and that
he had more than suspected that bis
daughter cared for him. “What's he
done now ?
“Oh, the same old thing—cattle
stealing,” said the Sheriff, sipping his
toddy with the appreciation of an epi-
cure.
“Serious charge, Clint 2’ insinuated
Vanvechten, failing in his excitement
to regard the unwritten law that gives
to this magnate his official title when
engaged on professional duty.
“Yes, pretty serious. Old man Lan-
caster and Jim here has been missing
cattle right along, and yes'day they
spotted them running with Bernardo’s
with the old brands kivered over with
a big B. B.—his mark, you know.
And I says to myself this hyar thing’s
gone on ‘long enough, and by next
month I'll have my gentleman landed
in the pen—that is, if the boys don’t
overpower me and treat him to a new
necktie 'twixt now and when court
meets over to Del Rio.”
He laughed and drained his glass,
and Vanvechten motioned to Jessica
to come forward and to fill it again,
but the girl's hand trembled so that
she spilled some of the precious elixir
on the floor, where it was eagerly lick-
up by one of the hounds that lay com-
panionably about among the men.
Mrs. Vanvechten siezed the jug her-
eelf with an execration on her awk-
wardness not deeper than her hus-
band’s, and proceeded to replenish all
the emptied glasses hereelf- Jessica
retired to the door once more, and
with her face addressed to the black
clouds that had now grown to men-
aceson the earth line, listened to what
followed.
“They say that Bernardo’s to be
merried to-night to old Gutierres’ dar-
ter,and that he gits four thousand
head o’ cattle with her, and all the
old Senor’s money whenst he comes to
die, She's his only child,” said one of
the men.
Jeesica started forward, color gone
from cheek and lip, but her clasped
hands crushed back the cry that rose
in her bosom. Casp turned away his
head. This was the news he had
come to deliver that day, but his cour-
age had failed him as it sometimes did
when he had to draw his knife across
the throat of some wild-eyed, piteous
rabbit. How he wished ke had told
her. He could have done it much
more tenderly than this man’s abrupt
tongue,
He spoke up now : “Yes, he’s to be
merried to-night. They say the gals
crazy ‘bout him, but I reckon he’s an
eye to that cattle ; ’sides he owes old
Gutierres a pile, and most likely he
thinks it will be safer for him to live
‘cross the river anyhow. Too many’s
gotitin for him for Texas to esactly
suit him.
“All the same, Texas will have the
favor o’ feeding him for the next five
years at least ; that is, always if he
don’t git that new necktie I was telling
'bout,” chuckled ithe Sheriff, receiving
graciously his fourth glass of toddy
from the fair hand of Mrs. Vanvech-
ten.
III
Jessica still stood with her face to
those ever deepening clouds bearing in
their breast a thunderbolt, ber heart
stirring with a vague sympathy for the
storm hidden there, but silent as yet,
like the one in her own bosom. He
was a traitor he deserved to die. Why
should she whom he had deceived and
laughed at raise a finger to warn or
help him ? Only yesterday—a sob rose
in her throat, but it died as she sav-
agely ignored it—he had sat on his
horse yonder and leaned down to
whisper that he loved her and to call
her pretty names in his soft Spanish
speech and as she thought of it she
could feel once more his glowing,
beautiful eyes burn into her soul. But
all the ecstacy of love was gone from
the remembrance, and only her soul
was seared by it. She could have
raised her arms and wrung her hands
in her agony, but there were curious
eyes upon her and she only stepped
lightly back into the room and was
gone so quietly that no one save Casp
missed her.
She changed her dress rapidly,
though her hands trembled, and belt-
ed a short red skirt of cotton about her
then took down the gun that hung
above the fireplace. Out of the rear
door into the yard where an old mule
stood tied, she stole, and undoing the
rope that held the animal she leaped
to his back and was gone. She skirt-
ed the village lest she ehould be geen
from the porch, then with a dig of her
naked foot into the mule’s side sent
him at the height of his speed across
the prairie. On and on and on toward
the west riding hard, but her fears and
her purpose going on beforelher. Any
moment the posse might be on its way
again, when they could easily over-
take her with their faster and better
kept horses. For herselfehe had no
fear, but would she arrive too late?
Oh, move quickly old Bob! Do your
best work now ! God give him strength
to go on!
She knew little of God except as He
was portrayed in the little whitewash:
ed church at Newton, fifty miles away,
a portrait which she had tried to love,
but which had always seemed to her
that ot a very exacting, even cruel
tyrant that called for all that made life
pleasant as a sacrifice to Him to give
nothing in return but a mythical heav-
en surrounded by a dark world of tor-
meof, from which the wailing of lost
friends could reach the souls within,
only these souls were to be so happy in
their own salvation as not to mind
their brothers’ doom. But now in that
wild ride across the prairie ehe could
look up and feel that perhaps beyond
that sky there was somebody that
cared and who would help her if he
prayed and prayed, so she began to ut-
ter disconnected sentences of the Lord's
prayer, mingled with supplications of
her own, “Thy kinglom come.”
“Oh, God, keep the mule up! Our
Father in heaven, ballowed—! Oh,
God, hold Cliat Burnes a little while
longer: I'll be so good, God, if you'll
do this for me. I'll neverdance sgain.
I'll join the church next Sunday. Oh,
help me, help me!” breaking into ten-
der little moans as she recalled the
Sheriff’s fearful intimation of her loy-
er's probable fate at the hands of the
mob, Cattle stealing was the gravest
offense in the code of this region.
Murder was always “self-defense.” but.
to be caught red-handed with another's
cattle was not pardonable. And they
hated him for his Mexican blood al-
ready. As che drove the mule on
without a moment's rest for him or
herself all at once the thought that
ehe was saving this man to be another
woman's husband smote her to the
soul. Iovoluntarily she checked old
Bob, and her eyes hardened again,
and her firm set lips curved into a crue!
smile, but the next instant, though ehe
ground her white teeth together, ehe
was urging the mule forward.
Ah, yonder was the Devil's river!
She could see its steep banks showing
dark in contrsst to the green about.
Just beyond was Bernardo’s home.
Would she find him there? Had her
ride been all in vain? On, cld Bob, on!
A roll of distant thunder broke on her
ear, and she saw the detached clouds
close into one like scattered hordes of
menacing soldiery nniting into one body
to sweep all before it: She turned her
head to look behind heres she reached
the narrow wooden bridge that crossed
the river at this point, the only bridge |
for many miles, and what was that |
coming fast and faster from the direc: |
tion she had just traversed ? It was the |
Sheriff and his men! She flung her’
arms about old Bob’s neck and besought
him |by every effectionate name she
could frame to hurry, to hurry. He |
caught the infection of her spirit and
thundered over the bridge as though he
had been three years old instead of ov-
er twenty. |
She gained the little house,little more
than a cabin, and without waiting to
knock ran in at the door. Bernardo
stood before a fragment of mirror twirl-
“ing his black moustache with a dreamy
smile on his face. Jessica was in his
mind at the moment, and he wondered
who would be the first to tell the poor
little girl and how she would take the
news of his marriage. His mother,
wrinkled and sallow, with eager hands
was on her knees beside him arranging
his sash of heavy crimson silk and
smoothing the velvet of his full trou-
sers, His jacket was short and of blue
satin fringed with gold, as were his
sleeves, while the shirt beueath show-
ed white and fine.
Iv.
He turned quickly as Jessica entered,
blushing in spite of himself, for this
was his wedding dress that be had just
donned, and the thought passed through
his mind that she had just heard of his
marriage and that she had come to
stop it by imploring him to remember
his many vows to her or to threaten
him. But one glance at her face told
him that there was something serious-
ly wrong. The woman kueeling beside
him looked up at the girl with a scrowl
and a sneer. She had always hated
her and feared that she was to be her
daughter instead of the rich and high-
born Mexican across the Rio Grande.
That Senor Gutierres had begun life as
a herder she did not choose to remem-
ber. He had.ten thousand head of cat-
tle now and that was enough to give
his daughter blood or anything else she
wanted. And now here, just as she
had arranged for Bernardo to settle
down in life, when he had actually on
his wedding dress, for this girl to come
upsetting all! It was to much.
But her face changed as though she
had with drawn a mask when Jessica
cried: “Save yourself, Bernardo; quick
quick, for the love of God! The Sheriff
is coming, and he says they will hang
you if old Lancaster’s and Jim Bellow’s
cattle is found with yours. Run, run;
make for the big river. The—the peo-
ple there—your friends will give you
shelter. Quick, quick, I say.”
He caught up his pistolsand thrust
them into his sash, and then uot wait-
ing for his hat with the gold cord about
it, in which he had just now rejoiced,
ran out of the house. His horse, gayly
caparisoned as himself, with a splendid
saddle of wrought Mexican work,
stood ready at the door. The man un-
tied him and then turned to the girl
who was assisting him, and, true to his
teacherous nature, bent down his hand-
some head to kiss her. But the fair
face burnt with indignant fire, and be-
fore he could defend himself a small
brown hand smote him across his
smiling mouth. In all the years that
Bernardo lives he will have an uncom-
fortable memory of that blow with the
back of a woman’s hand, aud still into
his soul will burn the contempt and
hatred of his treachery that flamed in
those glorious eyes.
He turned without a word and flung
himself into thesaddle and with a cruel
lash at the horse dashed away over the
pairie. Jessica's eye swept the horizon
on the other side of the river and saw
the Sheriff riding bard in advance of
his men, spurring his horse on savage-
ly as he caught sight of the scurrying
figure beyond. The girl ran to the end
of the bridge nearest her and waited
the coming of the officer and posse,
with ber gun covering the approach.
They rode ou confidently, not noticing
what she held, but as the Sheriff's
horse touched the bridge with his fore-
feet there was a cry of “Halt; halt
right where you are! Youdon’t come
a step further | Halt, I say!”
The click of the trigger told them
that she meant the words and they
paused disconcerted. To be held up by
a woman—was unheard of. Clint
Burues had been a soldier and taced
fire bravely and, after a moment's hesi-
tation, he resolved to make an attempt
at taking the bridge at any rate. He
gathered up his reins and the horse
moved his feet, but that was all, for as
the gun swerved evere so little trom its
original position to cover his breast, he
read in the girl’s eyes that which made
him check the animal as suddenly as
if death itself had struck him into stone.
Afar off he could see Bernardo’s lying
form rapidly becoming a mere speck
in the distance, and though there was
yel time to overtake him ere he could
cross the river to the south and reach
Mexico and liberty, as long as that
grim weapon spoke of the girl's deadly
purpose, there was no following the
trail, Oae of the men now rode to his
side.
“I say, Sheriff, haven't we the right
to shoot that girl down. She's aiding
the escape of a fugitive from justice
resisting us in his capture ?”’
The officer was not clear by any
means as to the law on this point.
Such a thing had never occurred be-
fore in his holding of his position, but
he did know one thing.
“No, we can’t shoot that thar girl,
law or no law, Hank.”
“Why not her in particular ?"’ asked
the other. He had not been long a
resident in the State.
The Sheriff paused to throw away
the quid he had in his mouth and to
adjust his leg over the pommel of his
saddle.
“Why, ‘cause she's a Vanvechten,
and if we burt her a mite we'd have to
kill the whole of Val Verde county, or
fight them all, tor most everybody
round hyar’s kino to ber on her pas
side or on her ma’s. And I kin tell
you, old Pap Vanvechten himself is a
whole team. No, sir, I ain't hunting
up wuss than twenty Indian massacres,
not to-day, least-waye.”
His last words were drowned by a
burst of thunder that lived again and
again in sullen reverberations, while
across the darkening sky ran a fiery
serpent of blue light.
“About face there, all of you. I'm
going back to Simpkinsville. Thar
ain't nothing to be done to-night, any-
how, and there's going to be a hell of a
time of a storm along hyar pretty
soon,”
Then, with no chagrin in his voice,
he stood up in his stirrups, and called
good-humoredly to the girl who had
foiled him: “You had better come
along home, Jessicy. There's going to
be a storm pretty soon. I'll gin you
a mount behind me.”
Then, as she shook her head, he
weat on, “I'll act square by you.
You've beat me, I'll own, but I don’t
bear you no ill-will.” She shook her
head once more, iand offended by her
evident suspicion of his good faith, he
said no more, but rode on with the
others,
Vv.
“You don’t fool me, Clint Burnes,”
she said, addressing his unconscious
back. “Do you suppose I don’t re-
member the old tree flung across the
river at that narrow place? A man
kin cross on that if a horse can’t and
you're bold enough to try it.”
She stood watching the cavalcade as
it wound along, not daring to leave the
bridge for fear they might double on!
her and ride back, and yet fearful that
they would dismount and attempt the
passage of the river on the fallen tree.
But it was evident that the officer did
not know of the other crossing, or that
he bad forgotten it, for the train pres-
ently vanished in the direction of the
town. She was weary with her long
ride and the varying emotion that had
swayed her, and she sat down close to
the bank of the stream for a moment,
taking no heed of the brooding storm
in her agitated thoughts. If she went
back to Simpkiunsville it would be to
face a cruel curiosity, a thousand in.
sulting queries, and the girl's soul
shrank within her as she thought of
that taunt that she had done a bold
and improper thing for the sake of a
man that had put her to shame by
jilting her. Again the heavens seem-
ed cleft by a sword of flame, and the
earth shook beneath the shock of thun-
der that broke right over her head.
Alive to its threat she at last sprang
to her feet. In a few moments the river
might be raging under a cloudburst
common in these parts, so given to
sudden caprices of weather and the
blood of men, and she could not ask
hospitality of the home of Bernardo.
No, never! She turned and went back
to where the mule had been grazing
quietly until the terror of the storm
had sent him trembling and whinning
close to the house. The Mexican wo-
man came forth now, and surlily, but
with an effort to appear grateful, prof.
fered her an invitation to enter, but
Jessica shook her head with a shudder.
It was his home and all was ended be-
tween them foreyer. Even now he
might be vowing fidelity to his bride!
She caught the mule sternly by his
bridle and led him toward the bridge,
where she could mount, But what was
that sound ? A roaring, a foaming of
angry waters, and as she neared the
stream she was nearly shaken trom her
feet by the rush of a black wall that
struck the bridge and swept it before
its tide as if it had been a straw. The
‘mule broke irom her hand and ran
back, dripping with the sweat of ter-
ror. The girl ran along the bank for
several hundred yards in blind excite-
ment. Ab! here was still the fallen
tree that spanned the stream, which,
lying as it did, from point to point of a
higher bluff than the rest of the bank,
had only been wet by the spray of the
rushing torrent.
She must cross, for her hot brain
knew but one impulse, which was to
put as much space as possible between
her and her whilom lover and all that
belong to him. She shut her eves to
the swirling waters beneath her and
felt for the tree with her bare feet. She
could cross best by feeling her way.
There was no fear in her heart. She
only knew that she was weary unto
death and that she was ready to accept
anything that might happen to her.
Foot by foot she crept on, cautiously
moving forward inch by inch. She had
made two-thirds ot the perilous journey
when her bare feet came in contact
with a cold, slimy body. She opened
her eyes to see lying before her a dead
snake, left there, no doubt, by the tor-
rent as it swept by. She caught her
breath with a stifled cry of horror, saw
the foaming, hurrying flood almost
within reach of her, a swimming of the
brain seized her and with a cry of in-
voluntry alarm she flung up her arms
and the next moment the angry river
received her in its greedy grasp.
Casper Lane met the Sheriff and his
baffled and swearing posse as they rode
into the little town, and, as he listened
to their story, untied his horse that
stood saddled with those of the loung-
ers about the store. He must nd his
sweetheart, none the less so that the
great broad shouldered fellow had nev-
er found the courage to tell her so. He
had only the vaguest idea now of what
assistance he could render her, but the
thought of her being alone on the
prairie with a storm coming on was-in-
tolerable to him; so, moun‘ing his
mustang, he rode swiftly for the river.
His keen eyes sought the bridge, but
it was gone, and further up a woman
was crossing the stream, apparently on
empty air. The old tree! Was she es-
saying that? He galloped on, each
moment seeming one long throb of an-
guish, and as he reached the banks of
the river he saw the little figure on its
aerial span lose its balance. and with a
thrill of horror saw it disappear.
He threw himself from his horse, |
crying aloud to something he knew not, !
and jumped out as far into the stream |
as possible. She was just ahead of |
him. He could see her scarlet skirt as |
the eddying water in sport caught it |
and threw it here and there. Now do;
your best, strong arm; fail not muscle |
and nerve. He gains on her, puts out
his hand to grasp ber streaming hair,
when the mischievous spirit that dances |
on this dark tide tantalizingly sends
her beyond his reach. Oace more put
the waves back, strain on with renew- |
ed determination and ah, he has her!
But has the river but given her to him
that they may die together ? He must
make the bank, but the current op- |
poses hin with the fury of a demon.
The girl lies motionless on his arm,her
| esgities of life.
white face imploring him not to leave
her Heavens, to die thus!
Suddenly to Casp Lane the world
seemed 80 sweet ; life, if he might al-
ways hold that face on his arm, such a
goodly thing, that he renews his fight.
His battling arm comes in contact with
something stationary, and he grasps it
desperately. It is one of the supports
of the bridge still standing, and there
he clings, exhausted, until from the
bank is heard old Vanvechten’s voice,
and a dozen eager hands cast him a
rope.
He slips the noose about the girl,
and with glad eyes sees them draw her
to where they stoop tand lift her from
the tide. Then everything seems to
reel betore his vision, and it is the
Sheriff himself that has to swim ont to
him with a second rope secured about
hie body, and to bring him to shore,
where insensibility claims him for its
own. When he opens bis eyes again
it is to see Jessica's face above him,
and with his hands he draws it down
to his own until her eyes meet his, and
in their gray depths he reads a promise
of hope fulfilled.
Tea Growing in Japan.
In the twelfth century Kyoto was the
centre of life in Japan, and the district
of Uji, between that city and Nara, has
always kept its reputation for producing
the finest tea. The most valuable leaves
are those on the young spring shoots,
and when I passed through on the 19th
of May these were just being gathered
and dried. Most of the shrubs grow in
the open air without any protection,
evergreen bushes from two to three feet
high, and among them the women and
children were at work. As they squat-
ted by the plants fllling their baskets
very little of them was visible, but
their big grass hats shone in the sun,
looking like a crop ofgigantic mush-
rooms. The Japanese ‘‘kasa’” is made
of various light wmaterials—straw, split
bamboo, rushes, or shavings of deal;
it is used, like an umbrella tied to the
head, as a protection against sun and
rain ; in the evening or on cloudy days
it is laid aside, and the laborers wear
only their cotton kerchief, spread out
like a hood, or tied in a band round
their brows. Though it cannot be call-
ed the “vast hat the Graces made,’ it is
never-the-less, very effective in the
landscape, and the variations ot its out-
line in different positions indicate happi-
ly the action of its wearer. The plants
which produce the most expensive teas,
costing from six to eight dollors a
pound, are carefully protected by mats
stretched on a framework of bamboo, so
that the tender leaves may neither be
scorched by the sun nor torn by the
heavy rains, and there are acres of them
so enclosed. It was a curious thing to
look down from a littie hill-top on a sea
of matting which filled the whole valley
from one pine-clad hill to another, its
surface only broken by the ends of the
supporting poles and by the thatched
roofs of the drying-houses which stuck
up here and there like little islands.
Underneath the mats women were pick-
ing, and in every way-side cottage
those who are not in the fields were bus-
ily sorting and cleaning the leaves.
Thereare no large factories or firing-
bouses ; each tamily makes its own
brand of tea, labelling it with some
fanciful or poetic name --From ¢Eariy
Summer in Japan,” by Alfred Parsons,
in Harper's Magazine for September.
Slowly Bleeding To Death.
The Result of Being Struck in the Nose During &
Ball Game.
The directors of Manhattan Hospital
and several physicians are greatly puz-
zled over the case of Edward Wood,
aged 18, who is slowly bleeding to
death in spite of all efforts to save him.
‘Wood attended a baseball game be-
tween amateur nines Wednesday and
was struck on the nose by a foul ball.
His nose bled, but Wood was too much
interested in the game to notice it, ex-
cept to press his handkerchief to his
face. When he went home he tried
some simple remedies, but all night long
the blood came, drop by drop. In the
morning he was quite weak and a doc-
tor was calied in. He tried scientific
remedies, but the blood still trickled
forth.
He called in other physicians, but
their united wisdom did not prevail.
Wood grew weaker and weaker. On
Saturday he went to bed and remained
there until 5 p. m. to-day, when the
doctors, having exhausted all their
remadies and given up the cace, he was
removed to the hospital. There Drs.
Wittson and Volio tried to stop the
dropping of blood, but to no avail.
Wood’s nose is not broken, and no par-
ticular injury can be discovered. He
was very much emaciated last night.
He had not been able to take any nour-
ishment for two days, and it was con-
sidered doubtful if he could live until
morning.
——As there promises to be a some-
what heated discussion over the wages
of window glass workers, the manufac-
turers insisting onja reduction of 30 to
46 per cent in view of a reduction of
the tariff duties, would it not be proper,
to satisfy a pardonable public curiosity
to put forth some exact information on
the earnings of the glass workers with
duties ranging from 48 to 124 per cent?
Also, what bave been the dividends of
of operators under such a rate of du-
ties. Window glass is one of the nec-
The producers are in
small proportion to the consumers.
There are stories of almost fabulous
wages and dividends. What are the
facts ?
——Papa,” said a little boy,
“ought the teacher to whip me for what
I did not do ?”’
“Certainly, not, my boy,’ replied the
father.
“Well,” replied the little fellow, ‘he
did to-day when I didn’t do my
sum.”
—— First—“There is one sign that
should be placed over every letter-box
in the city.
Second—* What is that ?”’
First—‘Post no bills.” — Fale
ord.
Rec-