BEYOND,
——
Never a won! is said,
But it trembles in the ale,
And the truant voice has sped.
To vibrate everywhere.
Never are kind acts done
To wipe the weeping eyes,
But, like the flashes of the sun,
They signal to the skies,
- [Henry Burtou.
HE AND SHE.
A TALE OF A LONDON BURURBS.
He lived at No. 12 Woodman str
She lived at No. 138. For
they had been opposite
each occupying the drs
Chelsea.
tenn years
neighbors, Lv
She had taken
after He
ing room apartments
up her abode there six we
was installed, and in a du
ested way he had wateh
loading of the cab, the takir
the luggage, the bustl
1, slim woman
a very imperfect ging
looked about thirty;
He cared whether She was twenty or
seventy. His heart just then was
heavy and sore: he had t
relation he had left
in the world he car
mother—and in place of home
her he was simply now '‘the drawing
room lodger.’”’ * * =»
And thus ten years
or
-
or
he got
She
108
he on
+
i
d
1118
stole by, each
reflecting the other so that,
t
exactiy
i8it
g
excepting the Christinas v
the summer holiday, the
landmarks to point the 1
time to Nos. 12 and 13, and the:
fortune, or whatever name we give
the good providence who
those trivial circumstance
to groat in our li
that on tain afternd
there were so few lette
the typist cl
ford street office
hour, and, full of
she would be able to pu
touches to a gown
ing, she tripped
hailed the fi ibu he saw
1bered 1e top, and t ti
r anxiety to
this, she did not tice more
re
event
ie
secure
than t
but that
hat
their
Was o«
her fare
extra t
ng Ww
ner |
d
oe
®
py we
her sex
the ms
without
soua dlIar
Yes’ ;
she gave
Yes
I remember your coming
‘1 had always lived
try, and I
would go on the
four vears [ |
suppose |
same
in the yt
nome
and I had t
belonging
were swept away,
hard on a woman,’
ally.
never been away but
Christmas with a
has since gv
India.
me!
, and chen I was
80 frightened that jum’ ed into the
cab and told the man t/, drive as fast
as he could.”
“* And I thought you were late, and
it quite fidgeted me, and [I gave you
a mental scolding, just like I often
do on Sundays when you will go out
without an umbrella.”
“* Well, but last Sunday you went
out without yours, and, more than
than that, you left the window open
on your bird, and I said to Totty—
my cat—"‘' Now that is very thought-
less, for if the sun goes in, Dicky
will eateh cold.”
‘“ And I fear he did catch cold. for
he has sat with all his feathers
roughed up, looking very reproach-
fully at me. You know he is six
years old.”
“My cat is ten; I can never bear
to think of her age, for when
dies—well, people will think
mistress & very foolish woman.’
“Not those who live alone won't,
His tone of sympathy brought a
pleasant expression into her eyes.
“You find your bird company, don’t
you?’ she said, looking at Ix =.
‘That summer when you went away
1 was quite anxious, fearing the land-
she
her
He
fully, Tottie and 1.”
“I ean quite believe it. 1 felt very
dull when you were absent.”
They both laughed heartily.
denly the horses stopped.
“Why, here we are!”
Jooking at her amazed.
It was the corner leading to the
street in which they lived.
“The way has seemed very short,”
she said, preparing to get down.
“Usually I think our omnibuses go
so slowly."’
Sud-
he said,
{ Charing Cross. I was just going to
| get down to-day when you got up
{ and sat down next me."
‘Yes, I felt my face get quite red
{ when I saw it was you. I wondered
{ would you speak, and I was so glad
when you did.”’
I you will allow me to speak to you.”
‘I shall be very glad she said
cordially; ‘'it seems much
to have exchanged a few words with
i one another. ’’
‘Well, we were not like
{ to each other, were we?’
i ‘Certainly not; I have felt as if
{ you were almost a friend for nearly
ten years.’’
On the very evening of the
week on which they
ing aside his blind to look
posite window—why
light How very odd!
might get
had
parture he said, as
the teapot down;
for the time of vear
Miss was in
frame of mind. ‘‘Pl
, I hear. They say
i a sniff and a
hildren's dying like
’r
=O
strangers
day
had met, draw-
+ +}
av vie
was
Op-
there no
there Fhink-
Miss Bates
de-
ing he from
not iced
wis
Lovely
) i
whether she any
she
weather
y :
Bates lugubrious:
sickness
ad-
enty o’
she
with
measles, ‘ y
es isdown wi
I trust we shatl
I doubt it,
opposite, —[ saw
sure
spared, but
for there's one of "em ill
i loctor to-day
going in there.’’
in his face
+}
fns-
wroughl
ha
v, and
ving made an im-
OWli
Bates
+
Miss
yd his toast
and
ng plate and cup
»d that
yut he had
some
She was il!
He wall
100 at
ot
3 i
¢
or over an
geore Of
ward tormen
ve, he
Os3eg tl
IAs
come, and
3 .
be here, so |
ul come up
for a reply, but
' Way, as she ushered
yim in:
“What a pity it
1ot light; then
of your wine
“Oh, but what a cozy room!” He
had halted j inside the door and
was looking round.
“Does it look so? [| tried as much
as I could to make it like my old
home. A few friends bought in some
of the furniture for me, and when I
was really settled it was sent up.
Lodging house rooms are so dreary.’’
His answer was a half-stifled sigh.
In that moment he had compared
the block horsehair-covered chairs
and sofa of Miss Bates’s drawing
room--the rigid back of each one
protected by a wool antimacassar—
with the homely snugness which
reigned here.
15d
“As vou see.’ she said, pointing
to the table, *'I was just making my-
self a cup of tea. Now won't you
sit down and join me? That would
be showing yourself neighborly.”
“I think I have had my tea.”
“Think only?"
“Well, I know my landlady
brought it to me, because it was then
«Ya spoke of having seen the doctor
here, and I at once jumped at the
sight of you at the window.”’
“And I have never seen you.”
‘No; we don’t ses unless we
look..”’
“But I have looked.’’
‘* Not from where you usually
stand, or I must have seen you, I be.
gan to feel a little huffy. 1 thought,
she never fancies I mean to presume
on that little chat we had together?’’
“Why, of course not. How could
I? I was only afraid I might have
let my tongue run too quickly.”
"Come, come!” he said, smiling.
“It has taken us ten yoars to break
the tee. It must not take us ten
| more before we thaw.”
While he spoke his eves
t lowing her—watching her
out the ten, nour the water
kettle.
were fol-
measure
from the
He did not offer to help her;
Hing acts brought to him a
ble sense of her.
‘You are looking
said as she sat down
ten to draw,
pleasura-
very tired,”’ he
waiting for the
“That is partly because I was rp
{ away from the office.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.
They'll get on all right without you.”’
“Yes. 1 know they will, but I don't
want them to find that out.
are 80 many women out of employ-
ment. and know French and
German, which I don’t and others
have a home with their parents, and
could take a smaller salary. Oh, it
does not do to stop away. When I
found that poor thing helpless
on the mat 1 thought supposing this
was my case, what would become
me? It isn’t death I fear—sooner or
later that comes to all—but old age,
sickness, sends a shiver throuch me.’
“Then have you nothing put by?
“A few pounds only. How could
I? I get thirty shillings a week.
That is not quite £80 a year.”
‘“And you manage to live here on
that?"
‘I pay my way. Why?
that sound to you very little?"
‘Very little.”
“I suppose they do pay men bet.
ter, and it's well they do, for you
want we do, and you are
not able to manage as well.”
‘I am in «
sai
from one hu Are: iO
I had £100 it did t
mother
sine
lying
y
Of
’
Does
more than
insurance society,”
he 1. ‘he salaries there vary
three. When
matte
then
sion she had a lit
her death
living
>il al
3
need
ciaty *!
y had reco
& Was one
surprise h
A wave
"hat did it mean? "he did
hink? Surely at no
could misunderstan ‘he tears
sprang to her eyes an
* - * ’
of hot color went r her.
he
a quick
it being
was He
shower he
opened made her look up
back again.
It
I found
he
making an effort at
self-possession,
When I got into the street
I had left my hat
saying; and She,
regaining her
swered, ‘Oh, what a pity!
Where?
This brought him into the room.
and nearer to her. “Why, you are
crying!’ he exclaimed.
**1* No. no" ~and she torced her
self to smile,
‘But you are. Your face
your eyes are full of tears.
the matter? Have I offended you!
**No, but I thought that perhaps |
had offended you-—you seemed to go
80 suddenly; but please take no no-
tice Women's tears come
readily.
| that makes me so silly.”
| He stsod for a moment irresolute,
| turned toward the door, came back,
{and standing in front of her said:
“Silly! If you think yourself silly
what will you say of me? You were
| surprised to see me go. It was be.
cause I feared you would think I had
taken leave of my senses if I stayed.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because all at once [the
truth flashed upon me. Suddenly I
knew why I had felt so angry be.
cause I had not seen you at your
window; why I was so anxious when
I thought you were ill; what made
me come over to find out the truth
about you; the reason that seeing
you here made me rejoice and feel
happy. It is that I love you. Oh,
it has not come now; for years it
has been growing upon me, only I
did not know. How should I? No
ather woman but you has ever had
behind.’ was
an.
Did you.
is wet:
the slightest interest for me.
ten years 1 had blamed you, pitied
you, scolded you, worried myself
about you. What more could I do?
And now it has come to this, Will
you marry me? I must know.”
‘But 1 feel sure you are making a
and you feel sorry for me. No, no;
forget what you have sa'd. In the
look differ
Pity is not love,’
3ut it is akin to it. I I give
you love ean you not give me pity
‘I pity you! Why, you have
known
When you spoke Lo
that omnibus |
gre
Said tf
“Hug me now, he the
temerity of quiet men is remarkable
or
i i he took her han 1s atid
them on
at her
¢
{
ianelyv }
Ioneily ba
pinced
shoulders, an
We
his
continued ure
ngs: a
ns it
! ng within
nd the summer finds parties cam
the various Maine waterin
making and selling beaded
and woven grass and basket-work
trinkets, while the squaws turn many
a silver piece by tellin In
wood lot where {ree
supplies them
material is plentiful, they sometimes
build their eamps of logs and sap-
pilings, roofed with bark or
and well climbed with nmss, There
is a feeling among owners forest
lands in Maine that the Indians, as
first proprietors, have a claim to re-
gide in the wilderness wherever they
choose, and, as they are peaceable
for.
oceupy a
refused
fis
purses
fortunes,
the
with
»
some nsh
that
shingles
’
01
est growth, permission to
piece of woodland is seldom
them.
A Valuable Primer.
Last woek at a Boston auction a
little primer brought $825. The
primer which brought this almost
fabulous sum consisted of an Indian
translation and the English version,
printed on opposite pages, a little
book which our forefathers prepared
for circulation among the Indian
children,
The book measures hardly more
than 4x2 inches, if that, and is bound
in its original calfskin. The English
title page reads asfellows: “The In.
dian Primer, or the First Book by
Which Children May Kuoow Truely
to Read the Indian Language, and
Milk for Babes. Boston: Printed
MDCCXLVIL"” It was bought by
Littlefield, a Boston dealer, whose
hot competitor was Eames, of the
Lennox Library in New York, where
is the only other copy known to ex-
ist, with thirty pages missing.
*
JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY
MEN OF THE PRESS.
zled Her-~The
Youth,
COMPARING
Perversity
NOTES,
when
marry
“What wns your answer
young Highie asked y
him?"
Why do you wan't to know?
A Becuuse he ask
and I to let
something different
O11 fe
1 Ay
"
want
THE NEW}
“1 gee
2 00) (Hx)
frozen «
unders
eyegia nt
Mabel-—It
There ig a ‘ueth
mhe Knows that
sighted
WHELE
“You '
ter of the
of
MONEY
exclaimed the fair daugh
millionaire pork packer,
intend always to have my own
Even now my father does my
gn lordling said nothing
wondering what the
old man woutl bid for a son-in-law
noble hcuse that was the real
silent,
A QUALIFIED ANRWER.
he
come
the
Miss Fannie”
ime will aver
will propose to
“Do vou this k,
enid, ‘that the
when women
men?’
She lifted up her beautiful eyes
and looked him squarely in the face
‘Never, Mr. Smith,”” she replied,
“if they are anything like you."
A DELICATE SUBJECT
Seth Bassett—We ain't got no big
lawyers any more! Where's yer
Chief-Justice Taneys, where's yer
P. Chases?
Hank Wintergreen—There ain't a
judge alive now that kin hold a candle
to ‘em!
Hotel Proprietor—Talk a littla
lower, gents — Judge Ramsbottom
over therd is mighty sensitive, an’ I
don’t want to lose his custom!
A DISCOURAGING OPINION,
‘Yes: he told me I was beautiful.
What do you think of that?”
“My dear, you can never believe
what the men say; they are all de-
gelvers.'’
CATCHING COLD
|
|
| The Chief Cause is a Lask of Dut.
i door Exercise.
The animal body is the most deli-
| cately constructed thermometer ever
devised. It is entirely self-regulat-
ing, and probably never becomes en-
tireiy deranged
In normal conditions the body con-
forms to the temperature of the me-
dium in which it finds itself. The
control thus exerted is purely a ner
vous one—an influence exercised by
over the minute blood.
which surface of
the body. There are two sets of these
one acting we signal line
the temperature i scorded
1d the other serving as
througl
t1 X
vile nerves
YesScis cover the
14 organ
lood
hanism
and uni-
unfavor-
1eavor to
are
iL graders -VB8-
Let
hat these ditions
n extreme
nas sent
Ibvious
1ition of
A Mammoth Turkish
Cave
fifteen
y on
ie sen, where the waves dash in the
ith a rush and a roar. which
lias given the place the name of “‘the
roaring h I{ one stands at the
entrance of Selefkeh, he ean hear a
lull, booming roar, which is, in als
probability, the waves at Cape Lisan
el Kabeh rushing into the roaring
hole
miles eastward of Selefkeh
+
mouth w
ie
Waiting for a Verdict.
There is nothing quite like the sus
pense of waiting for a verdict. Men
have been tried for a penitentiary
offense. Witnesses have given clear
testimony. The patient judge has
done his duty. Officers of the State
and court and prosecuJion have done
theirs. Tne counsel for the accused
| think they have earned their fee
! Twelve jurymen retire with the fate
of the prisoner in their keeping. One
or two men cannot make the others
agree with them and justice is held
up: But the suspense of waiting is
awful. Waiting for liberty or long
{ imprisonment. For those most in-
terested there is real agony in wait-
ing for the verdict
’
1
A Strange Monument.
| There is a monument on the side of
{ Mud Creek road, about one mile
north of Milltown, which tells the
passerby of a very sad tragedy which
occurred there before the war. A
young white man, Culpepper Mullis,
had been to town, where he had
inibibed very freely of mean whis-
key: he was riding his horse very
recklessly en route home, when the
horse threw him against a pine and
broke hig neck. The pine tree was
cut down, leaving a stump about
seven oreight feet high. This stump
was trimmed toa square and an in.
scription of the facts engraved there.
on. The inscription. however, is ale
moat obliterate