u wx;t at
i
Tha lanra aat ran awsalal La m taa Oaa
aatA faaaaaa aaawltkamaroafti aaa
aaatatloa trf awartaar. a van a fca ta-
rartad at tha Mleaiaa Ha fata t
1 taea, I Unas .
I yaar
S noe t ha. .......
1 fetf...ta..,.,
mootba ...
1 year
eoTa ataatha-,......
" I month
1 yaar
A as
tAa
... Ua
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V
17" 5
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'
ir
i. nM -"'J wtMn months, aug
lfo-t t-M wr.hln 'be year..
M.A
saoatAA.
' 1 yr
if 3'
Vnir ntirta r in county.
nil pr J"r w " "'iw lo
rtasln at Items. Brat laeertioa vm. par Una i aaca
abaaqaeat insertion t. par Ins.
Administrator aad Eteeator' Pottoe at
Aadttor's Notice t M
Stray and similar Notice aj
l Rnolulur ar preeeeautf a amy . .. per. e
or onrfy, aad reaammnmi dcnf-aW H tU aftaa
flaw fa starter haifad or Inimilui iwcitl
mj brraitf as adacrfisracsas.
Jon Paian s ef all kind neatly and aspadtv
eaely seen ted at lowest price. Daa'tjea rr
tbe store term be de-
JA8. C. HASSON, Editor and Publisher.
v nJ "h
(11-1 fn'"1 wr'i ui"i cu.uii inflir
h IS A FRI1N1R WHOM IH1 TRUTH Mlltl FB1I, 1HB ALL ABB IL1TIS BBSIDK.1
81. SO and postage per year. In advance.
" ' d o the mf"citlnrr tlose who
y'"ftrt ! dtstloctty understood I rant
r' r . n? a' scalawag '' "therwlse.
VOLUME XIX.
EB ENS BURG, PA.. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 6, ISS5.
NUMBER 40
W
W I I I I II I
II I II 1 II I I II I s II 1
l'm-l I' !! I MM I t
for Infants and
.-cSuod " aupf- "r - ,a T f racripae
m aa. Mtwii injunou
WAN !
a BE8T In the World
S2
y utit of 4fiit Lk b4 OnrB. th
'j'lM luuautsrwl Or-fana for Si fAr.
oirr
DRABLE
au4 wtj aot gvt oat of
Repair or Tun
i.V MA XT TEA S3.
t f :iJ 3 O 'aTYLEB
i
.
,
.' v -. V IrU Into pnrhA!os
. .-. : MR AT Or STOPS
, . l ' hut write to
DEALER
MnuaKtu-FF
J (Mt but fW Ultl Mh
a ' f
-4-
I t CATALOQUE sad Aimgma
i. miction of tb INTERIOR
eXT PREI TO ALL, ud
K.T9 DISCOUNTS ftiUw.d wtiere w
IcoxWhite Organ Co.
' MKRIDEN. COITN.
DEAD
YET
VALUE L U TT RINGER,""
fMc?FR WD SHEET-IRON WARE
AT Ty ROOFISU,
n na th. attfltiilon 01 bit trlndt
.a Lfrl to ih t:i-t that ! In still
; in.- nlil uno oiHiit tb
ppi'i.irv. Rtid lirr;nnj to
'x-k. or munutiftnrlriH to or
' line. fr ni th oialMt to
-t manner tml At th loweft
c t n'Urv work .ILhrr tn.o nr mM
! .i-r.tncnt.
KCIALTY.
iV yonrialTpi in to my
IMPROVED MICH ARM.
MECHANICAL PRINCIPLES
13 ROTARY MOVEMENTS, AU
MATIO.DtRECT AND PERFECT
T'0N, CYLINDER SHUTTLE,
SETTING KiEDLE, POSI
,S FiE3' NO 6PJ5SNC3, FEW
'T3 MlNt.VUM WEIGHT, NO
"ION. WO NOISE, NO WPAR,
ii.J.,CUE fi "TANTRU. S,"
'rvuraiviiTED.ALW rs
13E7. kiCHLY ORHArV.EriT-
f :''y.s;.;'UTED, and cives
frCT SATISFACTION.
J A II
JERY MACHINE
CG
ay, New Torm.
jtaQdardWagon Ca.,
'CTAcrtiiM or
iL'i, sriM.VO WAOON.H,
'AO.
u. . -
cs do tv t ;
1 I. 'il.N
Ai's .;: . , ihju.liiiii-s .
-". '...'a T "u 'lib. r Ity .
V '"'. ; 'lrrMr to all otner i:
a-r.n n:....: n
:f- coo;rn;.M n. our
i
K . .
PS
4' v-3"
V N
l'.OO! INC. sr
-litf-i. April IS. l(t -i.
!lSL Jli
mm
Children.
OanaHpatio-o,
. Kruutatton. i
I x!Z pwnaaa.
I Torre, five limy,
uy, aad promote A-
-vc.-l C'cuikt. 9B hllM ar w v
THE BEST
EXTERNAL
REMEDY
EKBDlIATISn,
iIEURALGIA,
CRAL1PS,
Sprains, Bruises,
Burns and Scalds,
Scltdca, Bietwit,
FrostsdFeet and
Ears, and all other
Pains and iches.
It It a safe, sure, nd
etTcctxial Remedy for
Gills, Strtlzg, 8tchAi,
Sorts, la., on
i
Hons
cs.
One trial 'will prove it
meriU. Ju effect are in
most CAMS
INSTANTANEOUS.
I very bottle warranted to
frlv BBUsfuctlon. 8nd Ad
arasa lor punphlrt, trwt, fir.
liur full directions for Use
treatment of kbov dlMASra.
Jrlv 5 ct. anJ 60 ctn. pr
bottle. Bold verywhere.
lArf, Jthnoi A Itrt, rnyrlrtwa,
BarlirtM, TL
BS53BS3
q"H !r . f . Knrker liro.. burn, H.
RIVI N I US' BLOCK,
EBFNSBURC PA
CARL RIY1NIUS,
Practical Watchmater an3 Jeweler I
HAS klwajt on bj'l a larce. rorieit and ) :
? ant mortmnt ol WATCHKS, (!In:KS '
JKWKLRT.SPEUTACLKS, EVE-ftLASSES, ;
Ae., which he otters for "ale t Inwer rlei thao i
any otber dealer Id the county. Permnj need In
v
I anrthlnir In bn lino will ilowelltolre him a rail
; before parbaalDr eltewhare.
Air-Prompt attention paM to repairing ClocKi I
tVatcbei, Jewelry, Ac, anl (attraction iraaran i
ed in boh work and price. '
POLL!
23 YEARS IN USE.
Tat Grateft Kedlca' Triinp f tk Aftl
SYMPTOYIS OF A
TORPID LIVER.
Laa of appetite, UuwclitMilfa, rata la
th head, wlib ov dull attlaa la tha
back art, fa la andar tba kraMar.
blade, t nllro.a after atiac with aaUa
tijcllnatloa to exertion of Adrraala4
1: rltabiltty af temper. Law ealrlta, with
a feelina" of katlif natloo aaattr
Vt'parinarea, VlKBiaaaa, Vlaltarlaa at tha
Hc-irt, Dot beforatha araa, HiiJuia
a?ir too riaht era, Raatlaaaaaaa, artta
f.cr-il dreama, IIIhly calarad Crlaa, aad
CONSTIPATION.
ICTTI 1'ILJ.S areaspeclAUT AdApt4
:. purii cnoa, ona dote affaota raoii a
- iiil" fflcOiniraitoastooUhtAal
her I nrrw tha AppHIUaai
! 'r to Take en I'ltih.lhK tba aatai la
w...rliihel.'v1 by ihiir Taata A at to a oa
lud lliacitioOrnoi.Ttiralu Btaata ar
r;:'y1. Hrl-e arte. farrr .,.Tf
T0TT8 HAIR DYE.
T Rais or WhHKikl AhAaced to a
i.'.jr iLcat hj a siuffle applloaAioa of
i lirr. it impart tt uatoral
! 'inte.iT'ooslT. Soli b
.fi bv cipreon receipt Of a l.
o .Tico, 44 Murray St., Mw Yorfu
The CREAT JUMBO ENGINE
pillir IMB.M1
r rtce. f ?.rt upward
t'lieji'et riif In
the rr.nrki t orilrT
ln litcht muchine
rr fjnut the tbln
for 'Termer-' Uia,
Ice I'rcsm Dealers'
rr'bii"K rree,
f hrrfh ic Machines
Ac. Mn'ifactnrrr
of all klnits ot Ma
chinery A Jobhlnir.
Scn1 tr t'ntulOKUe
m! I''lce Ilst.
II. P. KAN KIN,
S4. Hfl A K
Twi!c An.
Attiosiir, Pa.
May -ri. IS84 -lyr
4
PATENTS
UitainHl. and rf PA TEX T BUSINESS nl
f o for hfODKRA TK riCES.
Oor fflcp ia 4ip,mltM th U S TAtPiit Of
fir, and w cn olttain INlnnta In Ins tiin
than tin- h-mntr from WASHINGTON.
fnA SfObKL OR DRA WIS'if. Wend
rise as to i.i'4'i it v fr-.-rlMrr- : anfl
ws mh NO CHARGE UNLESS PA TENT
IS SECURED.
We rt-ti-r, her, to th.fi Postmaster, th1
S'ipt, of Money Ordr l)ir.. anil to official
of th U. S Patent Office. For clrruiat. a1
Tice, trniK ami refifnces to actual client
In four own State or County, writ to
C. A.ftNOWtfeCO.,
Palsal (lllrr, Washlarlaa, D. r
Opp. r . -Otai
MAT9rorr?fTos
rii.K at3
HOWIAL aV'"1"
TINS PAPER
1
v
Wewapapar AdTertlalnar Harrau to ht
hTUurn, whkrp. An- a i aaa r a a a-, am
UKilI0(OMor fJCI Yfin
luur be iiiaUo lor it lu 1 1 I f lUll
I0 H If
lla
A TRAGEDY;
OB
THE STORY OF THE CHAIN PIER.
CHAPTER VTII.
Prom that time I felt that my sus
picion was a truth. I knew that were
characters so complex that no human
beinf? could understand them. Here
was a beautiful surface. Heaven only
knew what lay underneath. There was
no outward brand of murder on the
white brow, or red stain on the soft,
white hand. But day by day the cer
tainty ktw in my mind. Another
th'n struck me very much. We were
sitting one day quite alone on the grass
pear a pretty little pool of water, called
'Dutton Pool." in some parts it wa
erv shallow, in some very deep. Lance
had gone somewhere on business, and
had left us to entertain each other. I
had often noticed that one of Mrs.
Fleming's favorite ornaments was a
polden locket with one fine diamond in
the centre; she wore it suspended by a
small chain from her neck. As she sat
talking to me she was playing with the
chain, when It suddenly became unfast
ened and the locket fell from it. In less
than a second It was hidden in the long
grass; she looked for It in silence for
some minutes, then she said gently:
"I have dropped my locket, Mr. Ford;
is it near you. I cannot find ity"
"Is it one you prize very much?" I
asked.
"I should not like to lose it," she re
plied, and her face paled as searching in
the long irrass she saw nothing of it.
I found it in a few minutes, but it
was lying open, the fall had loosened
the spring. I could not help seeing the
contents as I gave it to her a round
ring of pale golden hair.
"A baby's curl!" I aaid. as I returned
it to her.
Her whole face went blood-red in one
minute.
"The only thinr? I have belonging to
my little sister," she said. "Snedied
when I was a child."
"You must prize it," I said; but I
could not keep the dryness of suspicion
from my voice.
"Mrs. Fleming." I asked, suddenly,
"are you, like Lance and myself, with
out relations!'
"Almost." she replied, briefly.
"Ptramre that three people should be
almost alone in the world but for each
other!" I said.
"I was left an orphan when I was
four years old." she said. "Only Heav
en knows how I have cried out upon
my parents for leaving me. I never
had one happy hour. Can you imagine
a whole chiliihood passed without one
happy hour?"
"Hardly," I said.
With white, nervous finders she fast
ened the gold chain round her neck
again.
"Not one happy hour," she said. "I
was left under the care of my grand
mother, a cold, proud, cruel woman,
who never said a kind word to me, and
who grudged me every slice of bread
and butter I ate."
rShe looked at me. still holding the
golden locket in her white fingers.
"If I had been like other girls," she
said, "if I had parents to love roe,
brothers and sisters, friends or rela
tives, I should have been different. Be
lieve roe, Mr. Ford, there are white
slaves in England, whose slavery ig
worse than that of an African child. I
was one of them. I think of my youth
with a sick shudder I think of my
childhood with horror and I almost
thank Heaven that the tyrant is dead
who blighted my life."
Now the real woman was breaking
through the mask; her face flushed, her
eyes shone.
"I often talk to Lance about it," she
said, "this terrible childhood of mine.
I was punished for the least offence. I
never heard a word of pity or affection.
I never saw a look of anything but hate
on my grandmother's face. o one was
ever pitiful to me; fierce words, fierce
blows, complaints of the burden I was,
that was all my mother's mother ever
gave to me. I need not say that I hated
her. and learned to loathe the life I fain
would have laid down. Io I tire you,
Mr. Ford?"
"On the contrary, I am deeply inter
ested." I replied.
.She went on
-. "iy grandmother was not poor, she
was greed v. She had a good income
which died with her, and she strongly
objected to spend it on me. She paid
for my education on the condition that
when I could get my own living by
teaching I should repay her. Thank
Heaven. I did so!"
"Then vou were a governess?" I said.
Ves; I began to get my living at fif
teen. I was tall for my aa, and quite
capable " she said: "but fifteen is very
young. Mr. Ford, for a girl to. be thrown
on to the world."
"You must have been a very beauti
ful girl," I said.
"Yes, so much the worse for me."
She seemed to repent of the words as
soou as they were uttered.
"I mean, ' she added, quickly, "that
mv grandmother hated me the more for
it."
There was silence between hs for
some minutes, tlwn she added
' You may im;rjine. after such an un
loved life, how I love ltnce."
"lie is the best fellow in the world,"
I said, "and the woman who could de
ceive him ought to be shot."
"What wom-ti would deceive him?"
she asked. "Indeed, for that matter,
what woman could? I am his wife."
"It happens very often," ! said, fry
ing to speak carelessly, "that good and
loyal men like Lance are most easily
deceived."
"It should not be so." she said. She
was startled again. I could see it in her
face.
That same afternoon we drove tnto
Vale H) al. Mi s. Fleming had several
poor people whom she wished to see,
and some shortiinr to do.
"You Bhotild take your locket to a
jeweler's." I said, "and have the spring
secured."
"What locket is that?" asked Lance,
looking up eagerly from his paper.
"Mine, she replied "this." She
held it out for his inspection. "I near
ly lost it this morning," she said; "it
fell from my neck."
"Is it the one that holds your sister's
hair?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, opening it and
holding it out for him to see.
What nerve she had. if this was what
I imagined, the hair of the little dead
child. Loving Lance rose from his
chair to kiss her.
Y'ou would not like to lose that, my
darling, would you?" he said. "Except
ing me. that is all you have in the wide
world."
Thev seemed to forget all about me;
she cliing lo him, and he kissed her face
until I thought he would never give
over.
"How lovely you were when I found
you, Frances,' he said. "Do you re
member the evening you were bending
over the chrysanthemums?"
"I shall forget ray own life and my
own soul before I forget that," she re
plied. And I swtid to myself: "Even if ray
-iicTi-i..i r terfert'' t';re. have I any
that?" I no-
nnnvsniil irtn
ticed that during all the
about the locket, she never once looked
at me.
We went to Vale Roval, and there
never was man so bewildered as I. Lance
proposeu mat we snould go visiting
with Mrs. Fleming.
"Get your purse ready, John," he
said "this visit will require a small
fortune."
"I find the poor value kind words as
much as money," said the beautiful
woman.
"Then they must be very disinterest
ed." he said, laughingly "I should pre
fer money."
"You are only jesting, Lanoe," she
said.
It was a pretty sight to her go in
to thoee poor, little, dirty houses.
There was no pride, no patronage, no
condescension she was simply sweet
and natural: she listened to their com
plaints, gave them comfort, and reliev
ed their wants. As I watched her, I
could not help thinking to myself that
if 1 were a fashionable or titl.il lady,
this would be my favorite relaxation
visiting and relieving the poor. I never
saw so much happiness purchased by a
few pounds. V e came to a little cot
tage that stood by itself in a garden.
"Are you growing tired?" sbe asked
of her husband.
"I never tire with you," he replied.
"And you, Mr. Ford?" she asked.
She never overlooked cr forgot me,
but studied my comfort on every occa
sion. I could have told her that I was
watching what was to me a perfect
problem the kindly, gentle, pitying
deeds of a woman who had, I be
lieved, murdered her own child.
"I am not tired. Mrs. Fleming, I am
interested," I said.
The little cottage, which stood in a
wild patch of garden, was inhabited by
a day-laborer. He was away at work;
his wife sat at home nursing a little
babe, a small, fair, tiny child, evidently
no more than three weeks old, dving
too, if one could judge from the face.
She bent over it, the beautiful,
graceful woman who was Lance's wife.
Ah, Heaven! the change that came over
her, the passion of mother love that
came into her face; she was trans
formed. "Let me hold the little one for you,"
she said, "while you rest for a few min
utes;"' and the poor young mother grate
fully accepted the offer.
V hat a picture she made in the
gloomy little room of the cottage, ber
beautiful face and shining hair, her
rich dress sweeping the ground, and the
tiny white child lying in her arms.
"l)oes it suffer much?" she asked, in
her sweet, compassionate voice.
"It did, ma'am," replied the mother,
"but I have given it something to keep
it quiet."
"Do you mean to say that vou have
drugged it?" asked Mrs. Fleming.
"Only a little cordial, ma'am," replied
the mother, "nothing more; it keeps it
sleeping, and when it sleeps it does not
suffer.'
She shook her beautiful head.
" It is a bad practice." she said; "more
babies are killed by drugs than die a
natural death."
I was determined she shonld look at
met I stepped forward and touched the
child's face.
"Do you not think it is merciful at
times to give a child like this drugs
when it has to die; to lessen the pain of
death to keep it from crying out?"
Ah. me. that startled fear that leap
ed into her eves, the sudden quiver on
the beautiful face.
"I do not know," she said; "I do not
understand such things."
"What can it matter."! said, "wheth
er a little child like this dies conscious
or not? It cannot pray, it must go
straight to Heaven! Do you not think
anyone who loved it, aad had to aee it
die, would think it greatest kindness to
dmg it?"
My eyes held hers; I woold not loee
their glance; she could not take them
away. I saw the fear leap into them,
then die away; she was saying to her
self, what could I know?
But 1 knew. I remembered what the
doctor said in Brighton when the in
quest was held on the tiny white body,
"that it had been mercifully drugged
before it was drowned."
"I cannot tell," she replied, with a
f entle shake of the head. ''I only know
hat unfortunately the poor people use
these kind of cordials too readily. I
should not like to decide whether In a
case like this it is true kindness or not."
"What a pretty child. Mrs. Ford;
what a pity that it must die!"
Could it be that she who bent with
such lovingcare over this little stranger,
who touched its tiny face with her deli
cate lips, who held it, cradled it in her
soft arms, was the same desperate wom
an who had thrown her child into the
sea?
CHAPTKR IX.
Mrs. Fleming was not at her ease
with me. 1 found her several times
watching me with a curious, intent
gaze, seeking, as it were, to pierce my
thoughts, to dive Into my motives, but
alwavs puzzled even as I was puzzled
over her. That round of visiting made
me more loath than ever to believe that
I was right. Such gentle thought and
care, such consideration, such real char
ity I had never seen lefore. I was not
surprised when Lance told me that she
was considered quite an angel by the
poor. I fell ill with anxiety. I never
knew what to say or think.
I did what many others in dire per
plexity would do, I went to one elder,
wiser, and better than myself, a white
haired old minister, whom I had known
for many years, and in whom I had im
plicit trust. I mentioned no names,
but I told him the story.
He was a kind-hearted, compassion
ate man, but he decided that the hus
band should be told.
Such a woman, he said, must have
unnatural qualities. Could not possi
bly le one fitted for any man to trust.
She might he insane. She might be
Bubject to mania a thousand tilings
might occur which made it, he thought,
qiute imperative that snch a secret
should not be withheld from her hus
band. Others had had a share in it, and
there was no doubt but that it would
eventually become known ; better hear
it from the lins of a friend than from
the lips of a roe.
"Perhaps," he advised, "it might be
as well for rou to speak to her first ; it
would give her a fair chance."
If it were not true, she could deny it,
although rf she proved to be innocent,
and I had made a mistake, I deserved
what I should no doubt get; if sbe
were guilty and owned it. she would
have some warning at least. That
seemed to me the best plan, if I could
speak to her, break it to her in some
way or otber.
A few more days passed. If any
doubt was left on my mind, what hap
pened one morning at breakfast would
nave satisfied me. Lance had taken up
the paper. I was reading some letters,
and Mrs. Fleming making tea.
Lance looked suddenly from his pa
per. "I used to think drink was the great
est curse in England," he said.
"Have you changed your opinion? " I
asked.
"I bave. I think now the crying ain
of the country is child-murder."
As be uttered the words, his wife wag
hist in tbe act of pouring some mam
lt5 TrTrup; It ?M.re.t firrrl. rre
right to mar such love as
that the pretty silver jug and the cream
all fell together, lance laughed aloud.
"Why, Frances," he cried; "I have
never seen you do such a clumsy thing
before."
She was deadly pale, her hand shak
ing. "I hAve frightened myself," she said,
"And no wonder with such a noise."
A servant came, who made every
thing right.
Then Iance continued, "Y'ou inter
rupted me, Frances. I was iust saying
that child-murder is one of the greatest
blots on the civilization of the present
day."
"It is such a horrible thing to speak
of," she said, feebly.
"It wants some speaking about," said
Lance. "I never take up a paper with
out reading one or two canes. I won
der that Government does not take it
up and issue some decree or other. It
is a blot on the face of the land."
"I do not suppose that any decree of
(sovernment would change it," I said,
"the evil lies too deeply for that; tbe
law should be made equal ; as it is the
whole blame, shame, and punishment
fall on the woman, while the man goes
free : there will be no change for the
better, while that is the case. I have
no patience to think of the irregularity
of the law."
"You are right, John." said my old
friend. "Still, cruelty in a woman is
so horrible, and the woman must be as
cruel as a demon who deserts or slays
her own child. If I had my own way I
would hang everyone who does It ;
there would soou be an end of it
then."
There was a low, startled cry and the
paper fell to the ground. Mrs. Fleming
rose from her chair with a ghastly
face.
"Frances." cried her husband, "what
is the matter ? "
"Y'ou will talk of such horrible
things." she replied, vehemently, "and
you know that I cannot bear them."
"Sweetheart." he whispered, as he
kissed her, "I will be more careful. I
know a sensitive heart like yours can
not lear the knowledge of such things.
Y'ou must forgive me, Frances, but to
me there iB something far more loath
ing in the woman who kills a child than
in the woman who slays a man. Do
not look so pale and grieved, my dar
ling! John, we must be more careful
what we say."
"1 must beg vou to remember that
you began the subject. Lance."
"I am ashamed of making such a
fuss." she continued, "but there are
some subjects too horrible even to dwell
upon or speak of, and that is one. Iam
going into the garden, Iance ; perhaps
you and Mr. Ford would like your
cigars there ? I am going to prune a
favorite rose tree that is growing
wild."
"Io you understand pruning, Mrs.
Fleming?" I asked.
"Such small things as rose trees." she
replied.
"We will follow you. Frances," said
her husband. "My case is empty ; I
must get some more cigars."
I fancied that she was unwilling to
leave us together. She lingered a few
minutes, then went out. Then simple,
honest Iance turned to me with his
face full of animation.
"John, did yon ever see snch a tender-hearted
woman in yonr life ? She
is almost too sensitive."
My suspicions were certainties now,
and my mind was more than ever tossed
and whirled in tortured doubt and
dread. I shall never forget one evening
that came soon afterwards. We went
to dine with a friend of Lance's, a
Squire Peyton, who lived not far away,
and he was the possessor of some very
fine pictures of which be was very
proud. He took us through his prettily
arranged gallery.
"This is ray last purchase." he said.
We all three stopped to look at a large
square picture representing the mother
et the little Moses placing his cradle of
rushes amongst the tall reeds in the
water.
I saw Mrs. Fleming look at it with
eyes that were wet with tears.
"Does it sadden you ? " asked Lance.
"It need not do; the little one looks
young and tender to be left alone, but
the water is silent and the mother is
near. , She never left him. What a
pretty story of mother-love it is ! "
The beautiful face paled, the lips
trembled slightly.
"It is a beautiful picture," she said,
"to come from that land of darkness ;
it makes something of the oetry of the
Nile."
Watching her, I said to myself, "that
woman has not deadened her con
science; she has tried and failed.
There is more good than evil in her."
All night long there sounded in my
ears those words. "A life for a life I
And I wondered what would, what
could be tbe punishment of a mother
who took the life of her own child ?
CHAPTER X.
This state of things could not last.
A shade of fear or mistrust came in
ber manner to me. I must repeat, even
at the risk of being wearisome, that I
think no man was ever in such a pain
ful position. Had it not been for mv
fore-knowledge, I should have loved
Mrs. Fleming for her beauty, her good
ness, and her devotion to my dear old
friend. I could not bear to tell him the
truth, nor could I bear that be should
be so basely and terribly deceived
that he should be living with and loving
one whom I knew to be a murderess.
So I waited for an opportunity of ap
pealing to herself, and it came sooner
than I had expected.
i )nc afternoon Lance bad to leave us
on business ; he said he might be absent
some few hours he was going to Vale
Royal. He asked me if I would take
Mrs. Fleming out ; she had complained
of head-ache, and he thought a walk
down By the river might be good for
her. I promised to do so, aud then I
knew the time for speaking to her had
come.
I cannot tell how it was that our walk
was delayed until the gloaming, and
then we went at once to the river, for
no other reason that I can see, exipt
that Lance had wished us to go there.
But to my dyingday I can never for
get the scene. The sky was roseate
with crimson clouds, and golden with
gold; the river ran swiftly, brimming
full up to the banks; the glow of the
sunlight lay on the hills around, on the
green fields, on the distant woods, on
the bank where we stood, on the tall,
noble trees, on the wild flowers and
blossoms. Better almost than anything
else I remember a great patch of scar
let poppies that grew in the long green
grass; even now, although this took
place a long time ago. the sight of a
crimson poppy makes mv heart ache.
The withered trunk of a fallen tree lay
across the river's bank ; one end of it
was washed by the stream. Mrs. Flem
ln sat down upon it. and the scarlet
poppies were at her feet.
"We can see nothing o prettv as the
sunset over the river. Mr. Ford," she
aid ; "let us watch it."
We sat for some few minutes in si
lence ; the rosy glow from the sky and
the river seemed to fall on her face as
she turned it to the water.
The time had come ; I knew that, yet
only Heaven knows how I shrank from
the task ! I weiild rather have died,
yet my sense of justice urged me on.
Was it fair that Lance Fleming should
lavish the whole love of his life on a
murderess V "
"What, are you thinking ao iciectJ7
sMut. Mi Tcrti ? arkfl ire.
"Shall I tell you ? " I asked.
"Y'es. by all means." she replied
am sure the subject is very grave,
look so unhappy."
"I
you
N ow the time was come ! That beau
tiful face would never look into mine
again. I steeled my heart by thinking
of the tiny baby face I had seen on the
wooden bench of the pier so like hers,
the little drowned face !
"I will tell you of what I am think
ing. Mrs. Fleming." I said; "but I must
tell it to you as a story."
"Do," she said, in a gentle voice, and
she gathered the scarlet poppies as she
spoke.
"There were two friends once upon a
time," I began, "who loved each other
with a love deeper and truer than the
love of brothers."
She nodded her head with a charm
ing smile ; I Baw an expression of great
relief pass over her face.
"I understand," she said; "as you
and Lance love each other, there is
something most beautiful in the love of
men."
"These two spent much time togeth
er; their interests were identical they
shared at that time the same hope
and fears. They were parted for a
time, one was busy with his own affairs,
the other, an invalid, went to Brighton
for his health."
How the smile died away, the sun did
not set more surely or more slowly than
that sweet smile of interest died from
her lips, but no fear replaced it at first.
"The friend who was an invalid went
to Brighton, as I have said, for bis
health, and either fate or Providence
took him one night to the Chain Pier."
I did not look at her; I dared not.
My eyes wandered over the running
river, where the crimson clouds were
reflected like blood; but I heard a gasp
ing sound as of breath hardly drawn. 1
went on.
"The Chain Pier that evening lay in
the midst of soft, thick gloom ; there
was no sound on it save the low wash
ing of the waves and the shrill voice of
the wind as it played amongst the
wooden piles. He sat silent, absorbed
in thought, when suddenly a woman
came down the pier, a tali, beautiful
woman, who walked to the end, and
stood leaning there."
I saw the scarlet poppies fall from the
nerveless hands on the green graw, but
the figure by my side seemed to have
suddenly turned to stone. I dare not
look at her. The sene was far greater
agony to me, I almost believe, than to
her. I went on.
"The woman stood there for some
short time in silence; then she became
restless, and looked all round to see if
anyone were near.
"Then she walked to the side of the
pier. She did not see the dark form in
in the corner; she raised something in
her arms, and dropped it into the sea."
There was a sound, but it was like
nothing human, it was neither sigh
nor moan, but more pitiful than either ;
the poppies lay still on the grass, and a
great hush seemed to have fallen over
the river.
"Into the sea," I repeated, "and the
man, as it fell, saw a shawl of black and
grey."
She tried to spring up, and I knew
that her impulse was to rush to the
river. I held her arms, and she re
mained motionless; the very air around
us seemed to beat ivith a passionate
pulse of pain.
"There was a faint splash in the
water." I went on ; "it wag all over in
less than a second, and then the swift
waves rolled on a.s before. The woman
stood motionless. When she turned to
leave the spot the moon shone full on
her face. ghastly, desperate, and beao)
tit'ul. he saw it as plainly as I see the
river here. She cried aloud as she went
away, 'Oh. my God. if I dare if I dare 1
Can you tell what happened ? Listen
how wonderful are the wars of God,
who hates murder and punishes it. She
flung the burden into the sea, feeling
sure it would sink ; but it caught, the
black and grey shawl caught. on some
hooks that had been driven into the
outer woodwork of the pier; it caught
and hung there, the shawl moving to
and fro with every breath of wind and
every wave."
Without a word or cry she fell with
her face in the grass. Oh, Heaven, be
pitiful to all who are stricken and guil
ty ! I went on quickly,
"A boatman found it. and the bundle
contained a little drowned child a fair
waxen bale. beautiful even though it
had lain in the salt, bitter waters of the
green sea all night. Now comes the
horror, Mrs. Fleming. When the man
who saw the scene went, after some
years, to visit the friend whom he loved
so dearly, he recogniied in that friend's
wife the woman who threw the child
Into the sea ! "
Again came the sound that was like
nothing human.
"What was that man to do?" I
asked. "He oould not be silent; the
friend who loved and trusted him must
have been most basely deceived he
could not hide a murder ; yet the woman
was so lovely, so lovable ; she was seem
ingly so good, so charitable, so devoted
to her husband, that he was puizled,
tortured ; at last he resolved upon tell
ingher. I have told you.
Then silence, deep and awful, fell
over us; it lasted until I saw that I
must break it. She lay motionless on
the ground, her face buried in the
grass.
"What should yr have done in that
man's place, Mrs. Fleming?" I asked.
Then she raised her face; it was
whiter, more despairing, more ghastly
than I had seen it on tbe pier.
"I knew it must come," she wailed.
"Oh! Heaven, how often have Idieaded
this I knew from the first."
"Then it vn-t you?" I said.
"It was me;' she replied. "I need
not try to hide it any longer, why
should I? Every leaf on every tree,
every raindrop that has fallen, every
wind that has whispered has told it
aloud ever since. If I hide It from you
someone else will" start up and tell. If
I deny it. then the very stones in the
street will cry it out. Yes, it was me
wretched, miserable me, the most mis
erable, the most guilty woman ahve it
was me."
My heart went out to her in f ulnefs
of pity poor unhappy woman! sobbing
her heart out; weeping, as surely no
one ever wept before. I wished that
Heaven had made anyone else her judge
than me. Then she sat up facing me,
and I wondered what the judge must
think when the sentence of death pass
es his lips. I knew that this was the
sentence of death for this woman.
"Y'ou never knew what passed after,
did vou?" I asked.
"No not at all," was the half sullen
reply "not at all."
"Did you never purchase a Brighton
paper, or look into a London paper to
see?"
"No," she replied.
"Then I will tell you," I said, and I
told her all that had passed. How the
people had stood roilnd the little baby,
and the men cursed t-he cruel hands
that bad drowned the little babe.
"Did they curse my hands?" she
asked, and I saw her looking at them in
wonder.
"Y'es; the men said bard words, but
the women were pitiful and kind; one
kissed the little face, dried it. and
kissed it with tears in her eyes. Was it
your own child?"
There was a long pause, a long si
lence, a terrible few minutes, and then
she answered:
"Yes, it was my child."
Jler voice was full of despair; she
f?Hi ier taMs and Zzli thetr c ber
lap.
"I knew it must come," she said.
"Now let me try to think what I must
do. I meet now that which I bave
dreaded so long. Oh, Lance! my love
Lance! my love Lance! You will not
tell him? ' she cried, turning to me
with impassioned appeal. "Ymi will
not! you could not break his heart and
mine! you could not kill me! Oh, for
Heaven s sake, say you will not tell
him?"
Then I found her on her knees at my
feet, sobbing with passionate cries I
must not tell him, it would kill him.
She would go away, if I said she must;
she would go from the heart and the
home where she had nestled in safety so
long; she would die; she would do any
thing if only I would not tell him. lie
had loved and trusted her so she loved
him so dearly. I must not tell. If I
liked, she would go to the river and
throw herself in. She would give her
life freely, gladly If only I would not
tell him.
So I sat holding, as it were, the pas
sionate, aching heart in my hand.
"You must calm yourself." I said.
"Iet us talk reasonablv. We cannot
talk while you are like this."
She beat her white hands together,
and I could not still hercries; they were
all for "Lance!" "her love Lanoe:"
7V 60 CWsiwd
THE GUli Oi IHi FUTUKE.
awrni PasetMlltlea of XT a r far a
valre-d. In th tea of the Dyna
In.
a.lie Shell.
The fearful ravages wrought by the
explosions of dynamite, aaya the London
Times, leave no one unable to conjecture
what might he the roiiseui-ncos of a
rjombajvliueut in which missilt-w charged
with dynamite should be employed.
The difficulty ha aino been eay to
anticipate. Tbe ehock of explosion of
the gun charge would nudr the oi l sys
tem in all probability tire the nhell
charged, dynamite leing easily ex
ploded by mechanical shock, find the
tcun and shell mir,ht naturally he expec
ted to destroy the gunner.-' rather thaji
the enemy.
The Americans who s.-em rnther fnl
of trying the mppewd impossible., first
began to experiment on dynamite niii
Hiies, and an officer of the American
navy contrived what may l.e called a
coloswil air gun, in whir-h the 8heli
charged with dynamite mij.ht be started
on ita flight with an easy lit ar-tlerat-ing
motion, avoiding the lwck so cer
tainly productive of premature explosion,
and ohtAining by n high air preiemre
through a long bore the velojty re
quisite. The id'A had been foreshdTwed by
the Lyniftn accelerating fnm, which,
starting the shot with a wnall charge.,
followed it up by wuecefisive explosions
of accelerating charges pla a' along
the bore, and giving it the highest initial
velocity ever attained by Any gun. The
Lyman gun. failed, as miht have baen
anticipated; through the weak apote in
troduced into the system y tbe mechanic-ill
arrangement for securing the accele
rating charges) from exploding prema
turely ttr not exploding at ail, and the
great relief given to the gun by the
modification of the explosive qualities of
the powder has prolwihly put an end to
the experiment in accelerating cbarg
eL The uuce-s of the experimental a;r
gun in throwing to effective distances
xhells rilled with dynamite or even nitn
glycerine was such that a gun of eight
inch calibre and calculated to throw a
shell three miles was planned. It was
perfectly correct in theory, and was
made apparently on the safe method,
but while the scientific officer ho
conceived it was following out the de
velopment of his system by mathemati
cal calculations one of tli more charac
teristic practical inventors had attacked
the problem from the other side.
Instead of making his propelling force
more elAstic, he gave the eliisticity to
bis missile, and by a wad or cushion of
caoutchouc of the requisite quality so
took up the firt impulse given by the
explosion that a shell filled with dyna
mite was fired with complete baety And
an aifect which can be imagined more
easily than calculated. A shell fired
from any ordinary battery gun And car
rying 11 pound of dynamite striking a
ledge of gneiss which formed the target
blew out a cavity 20 feet in diameter
and six feet deep. No fuse in required
as the shell explodes by concitsRion as it
hits its mark ; and it was easy to per
ceive that A single shell of thin descrip
tion striking the side of the most solid
ironclad in existence near the water line
would be likely to send her to the bot
tom. Thus far no accident is reported
In the experiments, which are to be, if
they are not by this time, repeated with
guns of much heavier calibre. But the
calibre of the gun is of secondary im
portance ; iu range And the capacity of
the shell for carrying dynamite Are the
chief elements to calculate on ; and if a
shell carrying a hundred pounds of the
explosive can be fired from one of the
heavy guns now In use, the first hit de
cides, any conflict as between single
ships, and one of our steel unannored
cruisers will yield no quicker than the
Inflexible to the shock of such an ex
plosion. A Graup of Novelist.
In the art of telling American rtoriea,
American writers have attained high
snoeeaa in a very difficult field. A good
short story is a work of art. It is a
good deal easier to expand a story In tbe
telling than to continue it, and the best
novelists) often lose their charm when i
they eeeay the short story. Among the I
writers of fiction who have proved them- '
selves masters of the art of telling short
storiea, Hamilton W. Vahie, in an article '
In Good Cheer. mertio-is Julian Haw- !
thorne, George Torpors Lathrop, W. H.
Bishop, H. C. Bminer, Brander Mat
thews, Rose Terry Cooke, Marion Har
land and Julia Schayer. Among the
stories by these authors that will be
found in this admirable class are "Archi
bald Maimaison," "Mrs. G ainrt horovi gh'a
Diamonds.- "An Echo of Passion,"
"Newport," -The House of a Merchant
Prince," "One of the Thirty Pieces,"
"Choy Susan," "In Partnership," "Vene
tian Glass," The Rival Ghosta," 'The
Red Silk Handkerchief," "Love in Old
Clothes," "A Letter and a Paragraph,"
"P. its of Travel." "Ramon," 'Tiger
Lily," and other stories.
An Allaxary.
A charming little Lie approached the
old showman.
"Mr. Barnum, can you give me any
thing to do this season V
" I don't know. You're rather an in
teresting looking bttle fellow. Bit down
and wait till the agent of the Associated
pre, cornea up for the parti c-uIats of
Jumbo's death. Maybe between m we
can give you a job."
That night the little Lie was set at
wrrk, and next nxtrning all the papers
told bow Jumbo was killed while val
iastiy trying to save the baby elephant
a. snreuro mora.
F1IHp Pallllpa Sana Hie War
A ran a 4 the XV arid aav aaada
ntnseir Papular.
rhflip Phillip Is an example of a mu
with hb whole heart ia hia Art. The
rtory of hia remarkable career is aa
lntere-rirtg aa a romance. IT a haa tuaf
his way Around the world. One day he
wa in Rome. A ragged crgan-grindar
waa playing a tune on a barrel organ.
Mr. Philips wai astonished to hear that
U wee one of the melodies that he him
ealf had compoeed. He asked the organ
grinder where he had purchAeed the
organ. He answered that he had go U
from Berne, Switzerland. Mr. PhiHira)
visited Bern and hunted up tbe organ,
dealer, who told him that he had heard
the song At a retgioon meeting. It was
one of those melodise that whist la thectv
eelves, aad the organ maker at once put
h into a barrel organ. He ground rwa
or thrae organs that hAd several of Mr.
Phillip' tune in them, and Mr. Phillip
himself baa a music box which piay
nine of his melodies. I relate thia Inci
dent aa ahowing how widely hia music ia
ung. Mr. Phillips wa born a aausiciaa,
but he was called into prominence by a
Ettle incident that prove how great rap
ntationa are qui eld y create by mora
triviaj occurrence.
Mr. Phillips began singing soWa-han
mere boy, in the choir in the little eh urea
in Chautauqua county attended by She
Phillips family. The choir broke down ia
tinging
" vTben I oaa read my title clear."
and tha minister called upon Maata
Phillips to sing the hymn. Mr. Pbilhpa
then taught smaing school and pedled
melodeotu. In Fredooia, N. Y., during
a revtral of religion, the young man be
gan hi first service of song. He was th
pioneer In that new and refreshing de
pArture fr-sm tbe formal, old fashioned
sacred singing. Many eminent diaciplaa,
like Bliss and Sankey, have followed la
his footsteps. The good man, with
music in his heart, went South dnring
the war, ministering and pinging to raca
and wounded soldiers in the nnrpita1,
under the auspice of that grand
organization, the Christian Commisnon.
One day Mr. Philips found in a Cleveland
newspaper a stirring poem, or which the
following ia the first stanza:
If von ran sot on tbe 1
ail arrvong tba swtftast Seat.
Rorklnc on the tilfHent billow.
Lufhnc at the storms yon mat
Tom can a'aod etnon- the axilorm.
AncborM yet wit bin tha hay.
Ton can iend. a hai to help thera
As tbey launch thetr roata away.
It waa set to music by a Cleveland pub
lishing house and entitled Your Misaioa.
and Mr. Phillips sang It an only he ran
sang it. Tbe anniversary of tlx Christian
Commission waa calahratad tn Waahlrgr
too In txA long prior to the aav
sasainAtiou of President Lincoln. Ma
PhvUip aang Your Missdoo during tha
evening with srwh grand effect thai
Prasad ent Lincoln aakc-d lion. Wi liana
H. Seward, the presiding officer, to have
the song repeated; And the request wa
granted. Poor Lincoln! It was the last
time on earth that lie was to hear th
aat voice of the singer who had ao
charmed him. And when, aftar Lincoln's
death, the incident waa relate!, there
came to Mr. Phillip from all sections of
tbe country call to come and sing Your
Miaaism to larga audience. Mr. Phillip
suddenly found hlmsalf famous, Aodtaa
he was more than Able to keep up hia
suodenly acquired reputation baa
proved for more than twenty year.
Henna.
Here is a man who has baen
Sown All dAy, la the full tiu of car, that,
from morning to night, flood th mar
ket, offices, and streets of our great
cities. Timid, nervonia, im table. povu
bly a little disheartened, he start for his
hotti. If it la winter when he enters,
there is a bit of bright Are, thAt make m
bad temper seam like a sin in the coav
fa-ast; a nois of the children that is 00
dissonant; sad an evident car for his
comfort, telling, plainer than any wards,
how constantly be haa been ia tha mind
of the bouse-roof h cr, while breasting the
atiea and strife of tha day; while a low,
sweet voice, that excellent thing la
wean an. greets him with word that
Tppl over the fevered spirit lik ceot
water. And the man who can curs a
bad tesaper after that, deserves to am art
for it. There is no place on earth inbe
which a man ran go with such perfect
aaauraoce that b will feel the shadow et
healing, aa iato such a home a that. It
is the vary gat of heaven. (Rabar
Colly er.
Die tswli On BsUmss.
The back of the neck should b prow
tectad in winter against cold and In rum
mer against great heat Nothing ran
accompliidi this uniformly and perfectly
but the hair. The custom of shingling
off the hair from th back of the neck aa
urrphysioiogical, and U should in both
saxes be allowed to fall low exxvugh to
rover tbe nape, or meet the usual drees.
1. Woman wear long hair, use pomades
And frixring irons, pull their hair hard ia
dreexing ft, suffer much from beat in th
scalp And headache, and are never bald.
Tbe causes named sometimes take off a
patch here And there, but we never so
a woman with a rhir.y top.
2. Men sever lose their hair below
where the hat touches the head; not If
they have been bald fifty years.
May we not expect, if we keep the top
of tbe bead hot and moit, that the bair
glandfi will become weak And finaUy too
weak to grow hair?
My own family is prvispaeed tn bald
ness. A younger brother is q-iit bald.
My hair at 60 is perfect. For thirty
years I have wvtrn the ordinary ilk bat,
with nearly 800 holes through the top,
the boles being about a sixteenth of aa
inch in diameter. The nap is reversed
before tbe holes are punched, and when
It is brushed back to it proper plce tbe
bole" are never seen except when the hat
ts held up between the eye aivj a strong
bght Between the sm-f at-lether and
the hat an open corrugated wire is fast
ened, and extend all around. The ven
tilation is perfect Pio Lewis.
The PaedTI atra tha aTaVv.
Arabella: "Tire poor little fellow is
dreadful sick. It makes my heart ache
to watch him !"
Joee-phine : "Does he grit hie teeth
and start in his sleep T
"1 bavent noticed." I am afraid rs
erase kind of fever, and It almost drive
me to distraction His eyes have a wOd
gleam in them "
"Give him some sweet spirits of ultra."
"And yesterday I noticed when he
wagged bis tail- "
"Good gracious. Arabella! what are
you talking shout?"
' About my poodle, of course."
"Oh! I thought you meant your
fcsfc-"
1