Bellefonte, Pa., April 1, 1898.
THE SOUTHERN VOLUNTEER.
Yes, sir, I fought with Stonewall,
And faced the fight with Lee;
But if this here Union goes to war,
Make one more gun for me!
IZdidn’t shrink from Sherman
As he galloped to the sea ;
But if this here Union goes to war,
Make one more gun for me!
T was with ’em at Manassas—
The bully boys in gray ;
I heard the thunders roarin’
Round Stonewall Jackson's way,
And many a time this sword of mine
Has blazed the route for Lee;
But if this old Nation goes to war,
Make one more sword for me!
I'm not =o full o’ fightin’,
Nor half =o full o’ fun,
As I was back in the sixties
When I shouldered my old gun ;
It may be that my hair is white—
Sich things, you know must be,
But if this old Union’s in for war,
Make one more gun for me!
I hain’t forgot my raisin’—
Nor how, in sixty-two,
Or thereabouts, with battle shouts
I charged the boys in blue;
And I say: I fought with Stonewall,
And blazed the way for Lee,
But if this old Union’s in for war,
Make one more gun for me!
: —Atlanta Constitution.
HIS NORTHERN BROTHER.
Just make it two, old fellow,
I want to stand once more
Beneath the old flag with you
As in the days of yore
Our fathers stood together
And fought on land and sea
The battles fierce that made us
A Nation of the free.
I whipped you down at Vicksburg,
You licked me at Bull Run;
On many a field we struggled,
When neither victory won.
You wore the gray of Southland,
I wore the Northern blue ;
Like men we did our duty
When screaming bullets flew,
Four years we fought like devils,
But when the war was done
Your hand met mine in friendly clasp,
Our two hearts beat as one.
And now when danger threatens,
No North, no South we know,
Once more we stand together
To fight the common foe.
My head, like yours, is frosty—
Old age is creeping on,
Life’s sun is lower sinking,
My day will soon be gone.
Bat if our country’s honor
Needs once again her son,
I'm ready, too, old fellow—
So get another gnn.
—Mianeapolis Journal,
GAYLORD OF THE WEST.
He came out of the west—but that was
the only respect in which he resembled
Lochinvar. Indeed, the points of dis-
similarity were noticeable. He had no fair
Ellen ; his steed, a knotty little mountain
animal, was far from being the best on all
the wide border, and naturally, he did not
bring it with him to Chicago.
‘What he did bring was a bulging pocket
book. Not knowing exactly what to do
with the contents, he bought an astonish-
ing amount of gay summer linen, and
scandalized a discreet neighborhood by
sending quantities of American Beauties to
Mrs. Hadden Worcester, whom he had met
out at Denver, and whose husband had in-
terests identical with his own in certain
mining ventures. Mis. Worcester was
somewhat annoyed by these attentions, but
understanding that they were only a part
of the habitual exuberance by which Thad-
deus Gaylord was distinguished, she ac-
cepted them with patience.
He even insisted that she should lunch
with him at his hotel, and she consented,
but just as she was leaving her house to
keep this appointment a young woman
alighted from a cab, satchel and guitar case
in hand, and presented herself at Mrs.
Worcester’s door.
‘‘Why, Heth Lowman!’ cried Mrs.
Worcester, kissing the quiet little face of
the girl. ‘‘I thought you were not due for
a week yet. Surely you said commence-
ment day was on the 1st of June.”’
“I was too tired to wait for commence-
ment,”’ said the girl. ‘‘Besides—well--
there wasn’t anybody to see me, you know
—and all the other girls had their people
coming to commencement. Father couldn’t
get away. And it’s a long way from Den-
ver to Poughkeepsie, isn’tit ? I hadn’t any
graduating frock, either, and I don’t know
what to get. And—O, I don’t know ! But
I just thought I would come and see you.”
‘‘You’re as welcome as you can he, my
dear, and you look just like your mother—
which makes you even more welcome.”
“But I must tell you why I have my hat
on. I’m invited to luncheon with a gen-
tleman from your own town, from Denver,
who is a friend of Mr. Worcester’s. My
friend will be delighted to have you come
with me.”” Half an hour later Thaddeus
Gaylord took her pliable little hand in his.
“I call this kind of Mrs. Worcester,”
said he ; “I count myself complimented !
Mrs. Worcester, madam, you have hon-
ored me.” He led the way to the dining
room, talking all the way, and the ladies
were seated where they could overlook the
cake, at a table half hidden in violets and
pink roses.
Gaylord was of uncertain age. He ap-
peared to be a man who could never grow
old. His dark red hair was wiry and in-
tractable. His eyes were blue and full of
frankness. His mustache was so volu-
minous, so long, and so generally reckless
in its appearance that it seemed like the
caricature of a mustache. His white hands
had certain protuberances on them, which
indicated that he knew the shovel and pick
—Dbut that’s no shame to a miner, as he
would have explained—and his skin, nat-
urally tender and sensitive, bore marks of
exposure. As for his clothes, they were
quite impossible. But Miss Lowman did
not know that, and Mrs. Hadden Wor-
cester did not care. She was too correct
herself to be more than amused at incor-
rectness.
The luncheon was quitz wonderful, even
for that hostelry, and the conversation was
s0 interesting that a number of listeners
made a feint of lingering over their dessert
to hear as much of it as possible.
After luncheon Gaylord called for the
best rig in the establishment. But no
sooner had he laid his eyes upon it than his
jocund spirit seemed to undergo some trans-
formation.
“That hearse,’’ said he to the attendant,
‘Yis intended for me, is it 2?
“‘Yes, sir. It is quite the most correct
thing we have, sir.”
“Mr. Reynolds.”’ said Gaylord to the
clerk, “I asked you for a rig to take two
ladies riding. I didn’t’ask you for a
hearse, sir. I’m not one of the mourn-
ers ! No, nor the corpse, damned if I am !
Get me a wagon, sir—a road cart—some-
thing yellow.’
A few minutes later Gaylord was driv-
ing .two bright chestnuts up the Lake
Shore drive, before a yellow road cart, and
every time the chestnuts lifted their dainty
legs there was a clinking of brazen chains.
‘Now, this,”” said Gaylord, fairly un-
furling his splendid mustache to the wind
in the exuberance of his enjoyment, ‘‘re-
minds me of Denver. Now, I feel at home!”’
Mrs. Worcester, who was meeting her
friends, grew a trifle pale. Her western
acquaintance was even more startling than
she had apprehended. But the grave little
Miss Lowman was glowing like a rose. As
the excitable animals flew along the per-
fect boulevard, and all eyes were turned in
their direction, she felt like a Roman em-
press ina triumphal car, and said to her-
self that she was really seeing life.
After that Gaylord called every day at
the Worcesters and saw the ladies. Two
bunches of roses came daily to the house
now, and the roses for Miss Lowman were
invariably white—and sometimes the flow-
ers were not roses at all, but lilies.
Mrs. Worcester did not want to shirk
responsibility, but she rather hastened the
departure of her guest, and explained af-
terward to Gaylord that she had been sum-
moned by her father, who wanted her at
home.
‘“Why didn’t you telegraph me, madam ?
I’d have gone with her—indeed I would.
I would have seen her safe to her journey’s
end. Who knows what annoyances she
may encounter ? You ought to have told
me, and I can’t understand why you
didn’t !”?
It is necessary to record the fact that
Thaddeus was not known to the fashion-
able set at Denver. But on his return and
upon finding that Miss Heth Lowman had
been introduced to society at Mrs. Drex-
el’s afternoon, he grew socially ambitious.
He went to Vernon Harcourt Beresford
with his difficulty. Mr. Beresford was a
peculiar man. The atmosphere of London
hung about him. He wore clothes which
were fashionable in the English metropolis,
and he gave dinners which would have
been popular anywhere. He could play
the host like a Sardanapalus, and when
any remarkable personage came to town it
waa taken as a matter of course that he or
she should be invited to dine at the Beres-
fords.
When Gaylord went to the speculator
with his troubles, Beresford lent a sym-
pathetic ear.
“I’11 bring you out, my boy !"’ cried
Beresford. ‘I'll give you a chance to
make your virgin bow to society at my
table, and I'll have the people there who
will make the rest easy. You ought to
shine in Denver society, Gaylord, I'm
dashed if you oughtn’t. But the first thing
you must do, man, is to get yourself in
proper gear.’’
‘““You don’t like my clothes ?’’
‘‘Clothes? Do you call those clothes ?
Gaylord. I hate to tell you, but the
truth is, you have never dressed in your
life. You have merely covered your naked-
ness. Now, you ought to have a valet.”
“Do—do you think so0?’’ asked Gay-
lord, doubtfully. ‘But we don’t raise
valets out here. They don’t grow in this
soil.
‘“Youmight send to England for one. I
know a man who will send you just the
fellow. Here’s his address—had a letter
from him to-day.”’
“I'll cable him,”’ exclaimed Gaylord,
suddenly electrified. ‘‘I’ll do it this min-
ute.” And he started for the telegraph
room.
‘By Jove !”” said Beresford feebly, look-
ing after his friend, and then sinking help-
lessly into a chair.
Ocean greyhounds are fleet, and so are
the overland flyers, and in little more than
a fortnight Richard Stubbs, a gentleman’s
gentleman, knocked at Gaylord’s door at
the Brown palace.
Gaylord shouted to come in, and Rich-
ard Stubbs entered.
‘‘How do you do, sir,’’ said Gaylord, ris-
ing, ‘‘I haven’t the pleasure—’’
*‘Richard Stubbs, sir, of London, at your
service—the man you sent for, sir.”’
‘Man I sent—O, yes, yes ! Glad to meet
you, sir ; glad to meet you !”” I hope you
had a pleasant voyage.’ He held out a
welcoming hand and greeted the English-
man as if they were reunited brothers.
‘Thank you kindly, sir. The voyage
was rough.’’
‘‘How do you like America?’ asked
Gaylord, trying to help the man off with
his overcoat. ;
“Thank you, sir, but I’ve seen but little
of it yet.”” The man stood respectfully,
with his coat over his arm.
“Put down your things,’’ commanded
Gaylord, ‘sit down, man, sit down. I’m
glad to see you. What will you have ?”’
‘‘Have, sir ?”’
‘To drink, I mean. A brandy and soda ?
Just name the stuff—whatever you please.’’
‘‘Since you are so kind, sir, I think I'd
like to try one of your Americans drinks.
I wish to become accustomed to your
tastes, sir.”’
‘Now, that’s nice of you, Mr. Stubbs,”
cried Gaylord, striking him cordially on
the back. ‘‘I see you are going to make a
good American. I've always said that
Englishmen made the best Americans. I
hope to see you taking out your natural-
ization papers soon.”’
, The drink came. Stubbs quaffed it with
evident relish, and asked for its name.
“That’s a local compound,’ explained
Gaylord. ‘‘The barkeep down stairs in-
vented it. Great, isn’t it, Mr. Stubbs?’
‘Stubbs, sir, if you please.”
“Thank you, Stubbs. I like to be in-
formal myself.’
“I’m ready to begin my duties, sir. If
you will kindly tell me my room, I’ll have
my boxes taken up. And as you may be
going out presently, sir, perhaps you will
be kind enough to show me where I will
find your wardrobe. Or you may wish me
to attire you for luncheon, sir ?”'
Gaylord, who had been glancing over the
paper for the last few seconds, looked up in
something akin to consternation.
‘Attire me for luncheon! Why, dam-
me, man, I’ve got the only clothes I have
on my back—except that old diagonal suit
for Sundays. Wardrobe! Merciful pow-
ers! Wardrobe! My wardrobe, Stubbs’
is in the closet. It consists of pajamas and
a bathrobe.’
“May I ask you, sir, under those cir-
cumstances, what my duties are to be, and
---hegging your pardon---why you sent for
me, sir ?’’
Gaylord stared a moment at the valet,
and then went over to him and good
humoredly pushed him into a chair.
‘See here, Stubbs,”’ said he, ‘I’m go-
ing to be frank with you. I’m a miner.
I've made my pile. I’ve traveled a hun-
dred miles to every one of yours. I’ve
known cold and hunger and rough living
of all sorts. But now that’s over. I’ve
two of the richest silver mines in the State.
I’m at a place where I can enjoy life, and
I’ve earned my right to do it. I’ve got to
stand on my own merits as a man, but I
think I'd look better to the world in gen-
eral if I had a tailor. Now, I want you to
rub me down, so to speak, and send me
out well groomed. In short, array me like
Solomon. I’ll place a bank account at
your disposal, and I want you to do the
thing right. In the meantime, ring that
bell, please. When the boy comes go with
him and pick out a room to suit you.
Make yourself comfortable. You’ve come
half around the world to oblige me and I
want you to feel at home. If you serve
me well, Stubbs, you will never regret it
—and here’s my hand on it! And don’t
mind my American ways.’’
Stubbs regarded him with a pair of hon-
est bovine eyes for a moment. Then the
man in him rose to meet the man in Gay-
lord, and they shook hands vigorously in
sign of compact. This ceremony over,
Stubbs became instantly the valet, and was
never for an instant afterward anything
else.
A week after this Vernon Harcourt Beres-
ford gave a dinner, and the guest of honor
was Thaddeus Gaylord, who, in the most
conventional attire, told vociferous stories
with a gusto all his own. He went home
exultant. It was now only a matter of a
few days before he could meet Miss Low-
man on an equal footing. Gaylord pushed
his business interests excitedly. For the
first time the knowledge of his wealth,
present and to come] filled him with joy.
He entered with avidity into his new plea-
sures. Stubbs had made him the best-
dressed man in Denver, Beresford not ex-
cepted, and almost before the week was
out Gaylord had won the reputation of be-
ing brilliant, though Mrs. Drexel, who had
a sharp tongue, gave out the subtle sug-
gestion that he was merély vociferous.
The first time Gaylord met Miss Low-
man was at a dancing party given by Mrs.
Thurlow Green. Miss Lowman work a
severe frock of white, out of which arose
her girlish neck, delicate as alabaster. Her
face still bore a look of innocent hauteur,
and her sweet voice was tuned to a minor
key. The young gentlemen of Denver had
already dubbed her the ice maiden, but
wind, as he himself might have said had
he undertaken a simile, and her frigidity
did not even arrest his attention. He had
danced till morning many a time in the
mining camps, and he knew his steps per-
fectly well. Miss Lowman - had the feet
and the airy motions of a fay, and in the
embrace of the strapping mountaineer, de-
momentum, the pair swept all things be-
fore them and had the right of way where-
ever they went.
The next day Gaylord called. The next
day after that he sent flowers. When he
met her at dinner at Mrs. Drexel’s she was
wearing some of them in her drab hair.
After that he always sent flowers—every
day. Her father might well have inquired
into this devotion had it been her father’s
nature to inquire into anything. But he
was a distrait sort of man, who appeared
to speculate absent-mindedly, and who
seemed vaguely and largely successful.
His interests were reported to be very great.
It was commonly thought his investments
in the East furnished the base of his in-
come. But he was uncommunicative and
sour, and confided in none. His business
apartments were furnished in mahogany
and bronzes—and that was rather convine-
ing to Denver, for Denver is still young
and credulous. It was said everywhere in
the city that Heth Lowman was an heiress,
and the daughter of a millionaire—but
they speak that word glibly out there.
Stubbs saw the photograph of a girl on
his patron’s dressing table, and drew his
own conclusion—especially after he found
it one morning under his gentleman’s pil-
low. In course of time a delicately paint-
ed miniature replaced the photograph.
Stubbs was able to observe certain marked
changes in his patron, also. When he had
‘first entered into Mr. Gaylord’s life---if it
is correct to speak in terms so emotional
concerning the association of a man and his
valet---Gaylord had writhed under his
ministrations. Now, he sat like a lamb
while Stubbs arrayed him, and had even,
to his valet’s secret delight, sharply rep-
rimanded him for lack of attention to
some small detail. Under this treatment
Stubbs began to feel quite at home, and if
he had entertained any secret apprehen-
sions about the gentility of his patron they
now disappeared.
One day, however, a cloud appeared on
Stubbs’ horizon. It may or may not have
been bigger than a man’s hand ; Stubbs
was not in a position to say, because for
some time he paid no attention to it what-
ever. The first thing he noticed was that
every morning Mr. Gaylord was avid for
his paper, and that he turned to the
Washington news and read it feverishly.
Later on the valet observed that a strange
anxiety lay upon the whole city. Excited
groups talked and gesticulated together on
the street corners. Men lingered long in
the barber shops, haranguing. The hotel
rotundas were thronged at night, and, ap-
parently, not for the purpose of pleasure.
Miners thronged the city by the thousand,
fresh from the camps. Bulletins were ea-
gerly read in the clubs and the newspaper
windows. The rooms of the Mining Ex-
change hummed like a hive with men.
One morning the papers printed the news
that India had suspended the coinage of
silver. That day there were three suicides
at Rico and two at Ouray---and perhaps
some others, elsewhere, of which no one
took note. The air was electric with pres-
age of disaster. Gaylord ate nothing all
day, and that evening he stayed in his
room---a thing he had not done since he re-
turned from Chicago. About this time
Colorado began to make new fashions for
itself. Beresford invited his friends to
dine with him under the auspices of the
sheriff. So they came---all the merry old
rounders, and drank good wine under the
nose of the sheriff---who drank as much as
anybody. In fact, Mrs. Beresford, in her
corn-colored satin, held aloft an iridescent
goblet of twisted glass in her hand and
cried :
‘“To the sheriff,”’ and the company drain-
ed the amber liquid to him, while he came
in from au ante-room to bow his acknowl-
edgments.
Up in the camps hard-luck dinners be-
came the rage. One dinner was given at
Rico to which 10 penniless men sat down,
who had been millionaires, or well on the
way to he such, the week before. The
food they ate was obtained on credit, and
they sent out a telegram asking for passes
to Denver---which they got---for it had
been only a month before that they had
had the president of the road and twenty
other good fellows up to drink champagne
and eat venison with them.
The days passed feverishly. Men wait-
ed for the final blow. It came. The Sher-
man act was repealed. The government
no longer guaranteed the purchase of silver.
Gaylord came to Stubbs with the old
whimsical smile about his face.
“I’m done for,” he said. ‘I’m cleaned
out, Stubbs. But there’s a lot of others
Mr. Thaddeus Gaylord was a Chinook |S
pending upon his strength and magnificent |
traveling my road, and I’m not going to
feel lonesome. I'm simply going to pack
my grip and get out. I've got a little
money that I can honestly use. though
most of what I have in the bank will have
to go to pay off the men at the mines and
settling up matters. And I’ve this to say,
Stubbs, to you. If you want to go with
me, you may. I brought you over here,
and you may share my fortunes to the end
if you wish. But I give you fair warning
they’ll be misfortunes from this time on
for a while. Of course, I'll get on my feet
again somehow. but I don’t know when
nor where nor how. I’m used to rough-
ing it, and I don’t mind—at least I wouldn’t
mind but for one thing---but that’s neither
here nor there. Now, what will you do ?
I’m with you, Stubbs! Say your say.”’
“Why sir,”’ said the man, touched by
his employer’s misfortunes, ‘‘there’s a very
respectable place in a barber’s shop that
will he open to me, and I'll be better
there. I'd bea burden to you, sir, but
here I’ll be well provided for, and in con-
dition---I beg your pardon, sir, but you’ll
understand how I meant it---to be of some
assistance to you, should you need it any
time.”’
The tears were in Gaylord’s eyes in a
second.
*‘No, no, Stubbs, I shan’t need your as-
sistance, I hope. But if I do, I'll ask for
it and be proud to---and there’s my hand
on it. I don’t know yet where I'll go, but
there are many reasons why the sooner I
get away from here the better.’’
That night Thaddeus Gaylord left Den-
ver. Stubbs returned to his master’s old
apartments at the Brown Palace, and was
gathering up such of his trinkets as he had
not packed, when a nervous little knock at
the door arrested him. He opened it to
the lady of the miniature.
“He is gone?’ she almost whispered.
“Mr. Gaylord is really gone?’’ She held
a notein her hand which Stubbs at once
saw was in his departed patron’s hand-
writing.
‘‘He is gone, madam,’’ said Stubbs, bow-
ing profoundly.
She walked back and forth in the room,’
in apparent distress of mind.
‘You are his man?’ she asked at
length, stopping suddenly and facing
tubbs.
‘‘I am, and if I can be of any service to
you, pray let me know, ma’am. I’m sure
Mr. Gaylord would wish me do do any-
thing in my power—or—or his, ma’am.”’
‘Mr. Gaylord,’ said the lady, was—
was a friend of mine. He has gone just
when I needed him most. I do not know
what to do—what to do—
““Won’t vou tell me what I can do for
you, ma’am? There is certainly some-
thing !”’
‘Listen I” she said, drawing near the
valet and looking at him with dilated
eyes. ‘‘I have something so terrible to say
that you will *hardly believe me! No one
knows yet—nota soul. As soon as I found
it out I locked the door and came here. I
ran all the way. I knew the number of
his room, and I came right here—and he is
gone. I had a note saying he was going,
but I thought I might get here in time.
Do you know what has happened? My
father—’’ she took hold of the valet’s
sleeve—groping for human sympathy—
‘‘my poor father has killed himself !"’
Stubbs instinctively and respectfully
supported her swaying body.
By and by she grew calmer, and permit-
ted him to inform the proper persons and
to send for her carriage and see her safe
home. He sent out telegrams after the de-
parting train on which his patron had
gone, but no response came. Gaylord him-
self had had no idea of his destination. He
did not know, when he left, whether he
would stop in the mountains after he
crossed the divide, or go on to the Pacific
coast, or still further, to Honolulu.
The death of George Lowman attracted
but little attention. When the news of his
insolvency and his suicide went abroad
people simply concluded that they had
overestimated his wealth and had been
mistaken as to the source from which it
came.
His daughter’s existence was unknown
to many of those who had an acquaintance
with her father, for it was but a few weeks
since she came to the city. The women
who had taken it upon themselves to in-
troduce her and to show her courtesies
were kind now, and visited her, and in-
vited her to their houses and sent flowers.
The poor child turned toward them a
white face of refusal, and shut her doors on
all the world. She dismissed the servants
the next morning and bent herself to the
task of looking after her father’s affairs.
She gave the whole thing over finally into
the hands of his attorneys, and quitted the
place at twilight, when none might see her,
with no attendant save the faithful Stubbs.
He had sent her trunks to a quiet place
in the suburbs, where the mountains look-
ed down on a grass-grown table land and
white streets, irrigating ditches and clumps
of wild willows.
For several days she did little but lie on
the settee and watch the rise and fall of
the fire. The consciousness that she would
soon be penniless had prompted her to for-
bid Stubbs to let any of her few friends
know her whereabouts. A few days more
would bring her to penury. Her proud
little spirit would not endure the idea of
mendicancy, even in its most agreeable
forms, and she shut herself close in the
house and kept her heartache as her only
guest.
As time went on, her little purse suffered
perfect depletion. She might have given
lessons in bad French or mistaught pupils
on the piano, only no one in Denver was
paying for luxuries of that sort just then.
Denver was economizing—dramatically.
Heth Lowman, however, had no call to be
histrionic, and she watched the mails, and
was forever expecting a letter from Gay-
lord, who had gone, as he explained to her
in his farewell note, to retrieve himself,
and would return to her only when he was
once more a rich man.
She was convinced that he was keeping
watchful care of her when, about a month
after her misfortunes, and just when her
fortune looked the blackest, an envelope
came, containing a number of bills—quite
enough to keep her in comfort for several
weeks to come. She told Stubbs about
the money—she was confidential with
Stubbs—and asked him if he didn’t sup-
pose Mr. Gaylord had caused his banker to
send the money, which would account for
the Denver stamp mark on the envelope.
Stubbs said that was a reasonable supposi-
tion, and little Miss Lowman was perfectly
happy.
Though she had entertained such violent
scruples against accepting help from any
one else, she had no compunction at all at
receiving it from Thaddeus Gaylord. He
had told her, with frenzied iterations that
he loved her, that he must marry her, that
he had never loved any one else, and that
she was the loveliest woman in the world.
She found nothing irritating in the fact
that Gaylord, bewildered at his own mis-
fortunes, had forgotten to inquire about her
condition.
As the months went by the mysterious
stipened continued to come unfailingly,and
Heth kept up her spirits, and made her-
self useful. She loved the spot where she
lived. The eagles flew over it sometimes,
and the mountains were seldom hidden.
One day that which Heth expected had
happened.
Stubbs had not called in the morning, as
usual, and Miss Lowman, who had come to
depend upon him for any small service she
might wish performed wondered if he were
ill. She sat at the window, sewing lace in
the neck of her - gray Sunday frock
when she saw him coming down the street.
And, gladness, gladness! He was not
alone! Beside him strode a gentleman in
resplendent attire—a gentleman with a
flamboyant mustache—a gentleman who
looked as if he were in the habit of having
men and obstacles, and even U. S. mail
wagons get out of his way! In his arms
Stubbs carried a basket of roses and sundry
little packages, and as they walked the
man with the mustache talked all the time.
Heth could hear his ringing voice come up
to her through the closed window.
She flew back to her own room and sat
down and sewed some more of the lace in
the neck of her frock with an air of deadly
indifference. She heard some one hound-
ing up the stairs three steps at a time—and
she still sewed on the lace. She heard an
impetuous knock at the door, and it burst
open—Heth was just knotting a thread—
and the next thing she knew she was not
in her chair at all, but—well, well—never
mind.
‘““Well,”” said he, ‘‘Heth, I’m back.”
No one smiled. Everyone seemed to
think the remark was needed.
“I’m on my feet again. I knew I would
be-—with you waiting. Alaska salmon did
it. - I canned the tails. The fools were
throwing away as mnch as they canned. I
swear they were. I got a cannery in the
shadow of a volcano and under the lid of a
glacier, and I want you to see it.’’
It didn’t seem surprising to anybody
that Gaylord should wish to take his bride
to a salmon cannery.
“I didn,t know your plight, dear child,
till Stubbs told me—heavens! If I had
known it, I’d have been home soon
enough.”
“Didn’t know it,’ gasped Heth, wiping
her eyes on a diminutive pocket handker-
chief ; ‘how then—"’
But she was interrupted by Stubbs, who
came in with the roses, and the little box-
es, which the traveler made her open, and
which contained trinkets of various kinds
—silver bracelets from the Thinglets, and
a silk shawl from Chinatown at Portland,
and carved bone spoons from the Aleuts
and a necklace of Alaska garnets.
‘If it hadn’t been for that fellow’s waist-
coats,’’ said Gaylord pointing to his valet,
‘‘and all the rest of the truck with which
he furnished me, I might have fared badly,
Heth. The rascal packed up the whole
outfit, and where I’ve been clothes wear
out fast, not to mention the fact that it’s
often comfortable to wear three suits at a
time. I wore my swallow tail with a blue
flannel shirt and a pair of checked trousers,
and it seemed to take with the natives
first rate.
Stubbs had never known before that his
master’s mistress could give a peal of
laughter like that—he hadn’t an idea of it
—or that her eyes could dance like will o’-
the-wisps on a foggy night.
‘‘But if you don’t know about my mis-
fortunes,’’ said she suddenly, returning to
her former question, ‘‘how was it that you
sent me that money every month? But
for you I should have been a heggar, and I
know it whould have broken my heart.”’
‘‘Money,’’ said Gaylord, ‘‘money !”’
Stubbs was making for the door.
‘‘Come back here, you rascal,”’ cried
Gaylord. ‘‘Turn around here, sir.”’
Stubbs’ face was scarlet.
‘Look at that my dear, will you,’’ cried
Gaylord, ‘‘look at that ! Guilt painted on
every feature! See that, my dear !”’
Heth got up and slipped her hand in
Stubbs’ big paw.
‘I hope you will never have to be part-
ed from—from Mr. Gaylord—and—and
me,’’ said she.
Gaylord was mopping his blue eyes.
“Stubbs, he said, ‘‘I-—-"’
*‘Don’t mention it, sir, if you please.
My fathers have been gentlemen’s men for
five generations, sir, and it would be queer
if I didn’t understand a gentleman's feel-
ings, sir, and I know what he would want
done under certain circumstances.’’
‘““How,’’ cried Gaylord, throwing up his
hand ‘‘can I live up to Stubbs !”’—By Elia
W. Peattie in the Philadelphia Inquirer.
River Floods.
With the shift from winter to spring it
is usual to expect a rainy season that fills
the streams. Once, when the forests were
reservoirs that stored the surplus waters,
floods might have been less frequent and
severe than now. But the forests are gone,
and forever, While we talk about a sys-
tem of forestry it is the talk ot the builder
of air castles, and is not likely to take tang-
ible shape on any scale of magnitude.
Floods may, therefore, be looked for from
year to year, some of them more dangerous
and some of them not so much to be feared.
As the population and industry of the val-
leys increase it will be possible for great
floods to do more harm to property, because
more property will be on the rivers in reach
of the water. River craft will increase,
and there is no way to get it out of the
river in time of high tides. Prudence may
dictate to the expectant builder the wisdom
of selecting higher ground, and in that way,
except in the cities where every foot of
ground is so valuable that it must be used,
the river banks may be kept clear from
danger to buildings. But boats and rafts
will be compelled to take their chances in
the swollen streams. In some thickly
settled places it might be profitable to con-
struct basins opening from the river into
which craft might retreat in time of flood
and be saved. Breakwaters are constructed
for such uses, but often high water sweeps
over them.
Canada’s White Plague.
Consumption Slowly Undermining the Entire Nation.
A public consumption hospital for every
county in Ontario is the hold suggestion
made by P. H. Bryce, secretary of the pro-
vincial board of health.
Dr. Bryce calls consumption the ‘‘White
Plague,’’ and declares that it is increasing
throughout Canada.
The germs of the disease, he declares, do
not only take possession of individuals,
but of localities and houses, and attack all
persons who live in them. The number of
infected houses is steadily increasing, and
it is only a matter of time until the entire
nation will be undermined with the dread
malady. ,
Dr. Bryce declares that houses and shops
where consumption has existed must be
inspected and maintained in a sanitary
condition, and that the sick, who are im-
properly cared for, must be removed to
sanitariums.
Dr. Bryce’s opinions are highly respect-
ed here, and his recommendations are ser-
iously regarded.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Miss Grace A. Adams, of Columbus, O.,
who was the first to benefit by the new
law allowing women notaries, is to he
brought into a test case on the ground that
as the Constitution requires that all officers
shall be electors, her appointment was un-
constitutional.
Following the fashion of her elders, the
skirts of girls’ costumes are closely gored
at the top and the slight fullness arranged
either in two box pleats or in two flat ones,
closely meeting in the centre, giving the
effect of a tight top. Sleeves fit closely,
except just at the armhole, where they are
gathered or pleated, but tucks or epau-
lettes are much in favor, and make a pretty
finish. The selection of modes for a girl
from twelve to sixteen years of age is fre-
quently a perplexing question. They
must not wear styles too old for them, as
to err on that side is to make them appear
awkward and ridiculous, while, on the
other hand, a too youthful garment en-
genders the bete noir of girlhood—gawki-
ness.
Accordion pleating was run into the
ground this time last year. This year
tucks bid fare to share the same fate. Tucks
cut in one with the garment or simulated,
large, medium, small, horizontal, bias, ver-
tical, singly or in clusters are used indis-
criminately on skirts, waists, yokes, sleeves
and collars. It is whispered that when
the scant backed hell skirt is generally
adopted the shirt-waist will be worn with
the lower portion outside the skirt.
Pique in white and colors will be used to
develop some of this season’s swellest
shirt-waists. The new buttons are almost
handsome enough to he used for brooches
and promise to be one of spring’s most
foremost dress garnitures. Buckles in all
metals from gold to steel, and in all sizes
from a very diminutive one to five inches
long, are a perfect craze.
Let me tell you of a navy blue gown I
saw in New Orleans last week, at the Mardi
Gras. The skirt was very narrow, fit-
ting snugly, of course, over the hips and
hanging in uncrinolined folds about the
feet. From hem to the waist were laid
pipings of milliner’s folds of the cloth put
on with four rows of stitching on each
‘edge, but from under each edge peeped a
tiny suggestion of cardinal red bengaline.
A short, tight-fitting coat, single-breasted,
was fitted over a tucked chemisette of car-
dinal red silk, and three straps were laid
military style, across the top of the sleeves,
with four rows of stitching and the edges
of cardinal silk.
‘With it was worn a plain black walk-
ing hat, tipped over the eyes, with a tiny
knot of cardinal red velvet showing out of
the three tips at the side. It was a very
individual costume.
Another fashion that will be worn this
Spring in color effect—black satin skirts
with plain white satin bodices. This costume
at an afternoon tea during Lent was
considered very chic.
The skirt was of black cloth with eight
bias bands of black velvet stretched on in
curves. The bodice was a full waist of
white liberty satin, made on a yoke, formed
of heavy shirring over cords.
The sleeves were small, shirred at the
wrist in a narrow turnover cuff of black
velvet. At the throat was pinned a huge
chiffon bow. This bow nearly covered the
front of the gown and was allowed to hang
to the waist. Its streamers had designs of
applied lace and shirrings of chiffon all
around the edge.
The girdle was of black velvet, very nar-
row, caught down back and front, with a
circular cut steel buckle. It was a very ef-
fective toilette.
“Nose hat’’ shapes are everywhere the
millinery of the hour. The build is es-
pecially fetching in ‘‘walking’’ hats. And
the rosettes! They are everywhere on the
new hat. They are of every conceivable
make and material. The corded rosettes
are particularly noteworthy. Corded at
the upper edge of the ribbon, gathered at
the lower they gave an effect of double
shirring which hasn’t been hinted at before.
At a millinery opening a wonderful little
creation was—garnished simply with three
of these. Each rosette was of a different
shade ; colors were divinely blended ; the
three were crushed together and poised
upon the crown.
Yokes or guimpes are universal whether
small, in vierge fashion, low and rounded,
with jockeys to match, or square and high
on the shoulders. In heavy ivory chenille
lace a yoke with jockeys woven en forme
has a slender point reaching to the waist
line in front, the draped surplice bodice of
cashmere or crepe being finished from
shoulders to belt with slender bands of
velvet ribbon or of the same cloth, these
continuing down upon the skirt and about
it knee high behind as a heading for the
circular flounce that forms the lower half.
Soleil plaits and tiny erimps to match,
the first for skirt, the second for bodice,
and reappearing on crepe and light wool
frocks, and the blouses for jacket suits
made most fashionably of panne or a soft
taffeta silk and closely corded in ridges
either in hoopes or vertically, in diagonal
lines forming lattices, or in yoke effects.
A cravat bow or a long four-in-hand of
silk muslin is lavishly made and immacu-
lately fresh, the long scarfs befrilled and
betucked elaborately.
The latest fad in bed furnishings is to
have two hard round bolsters one at the
head and the other at the foot, covered
with silk and lace. No pillows are in
sight during the day, but at night the
bolsters with their beautiful decorations
are laid aside and the pillows brought
forth for use.
SPONGE CAKE.—Four fresh eggs (the
whites of two reserved for frosting), beaten
until light ; two cupfuls pulverized sugar,
which has been twice sifted, beaten with
the eggs. Two teaspoonfuls of baking
powder with two cupfuls of flower are
sifted four times, and added to the eggs
and sugar a little at a time, stirring well.
Lastly, add a cupful of boiling water, stir-
ring a little in at a time. Now beat well.
Flavor to suit the taste. Bake in loaf from
twenty to thirty minutes, frosting with
the reserved whites.
Patent leather slippers are again in style.
Fashionable bootmakers say that they are
to be worn with everything this summer,
from white duck suits to ball gowns. They
are modish and make the feet look well.
Every sweet has its bitter, however, even
when it comes to footgear. Patent leather
is the coldest of all leather in winter and
the hottest in summer.
——-Subseribe for the WATCHMAN.