14 | ¥ (APL. L MAR'SSTORY. Oue brig’. au umn morning, many a, a (ule! prosetion wound its way Ww rough the streets of St, Sauvelr WW” ay Ld i A —— OJ ATU VE gs RENAL pas Ae —— mane car A Sp, Er on gaat 1p reuatt ill said de s———— oo =A and marry Arline. AF haps, I might teach 00 for a livli- hood. I knew : something of the art, And then. «f we two could live on a crust, a garret, we might be happy «or that, per- ward the wal but well cared-for ceme' ry, Bt was a soldier's funeral. A guard wake d beside the flower strewn bier, Two by two, with ber heads, the sol- ders followed it. The muffled drums beat heavily. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, they seced to say, W owen looked from their windows ax the sud prosesion marched on. He is gone at last, the poor Capt. Le Mars! said one. Aud a bpy sighed another. J N. ver did uw prave soldier live with #» many wounds. such dreadiul muti- lations. Yet he «as handsome still— a vei itul face ; 1 saw it in the coffin, said nother, The 'hev erwsed themselves and went back to their work. tL) oui ul noses soldiers returned to the house in which their dead com” pute tind dwelt, after the ceremonies It was the colonel of the release for him! were over. regiment. {vo wim, in his dying hours, poor L Mur bad given a note, in which he hwo My Op Friexp: When I am ve, | desire you to take from my Genk a small pockage of manuscript which vu will find there. It is the story of my life. Even to you I have relive , but aw I desire you to kuow all. You may thick mes madman when you have read the story; and, Judeen ho oDe can know wether he is mad or not, but you Know me too well to suspect me of falsehood. The truth of what I have written is as ab- | solute to me as that of my own ex- | mlence, Read it and do what you will with it. Yours ever, Le Mar. It was to obtain this legncy that | the colonel retraced his steps to the | home of his dead comrade that day, As Le Mar bad said, he knew nothing of his lite save that they bad fought together, yet he had always felt that than some mystery surrounded him, there were sorrow in the past too great to be spoken of. * * * * At the dead of night, in the soli- tude of his own room, Col. Mestayer | unrolled the paper, covered by the words of his friend had written, and read the following story. Dearest Mestaver : Before I be- | came a soldier I lived with my father in a chateau near Paris. I was his | youngest son, and in his way was | fond of me ; his kindness, however, | depended altogether upon my implicit | obedience. Like most young men, I haa fallen in love, The object of my affection was not a lady of my own rack in life; she was a poor little shop girl, named Arline. I have always thought her the sweetest thing on earth ; certainly her blach eyes and long, glittering, wav ing black hair weré charms any wo- man might bave envied. I have pever mentioned Arline at home, of course that yon quite undertsnd. Her grandfather was a little, old man who carved wooden brackets tor a living, and they live on a fourth floor in a very poor neighborhood. When I was five and twenty years of age my father said to me: Adolph, it is time for you to marry, | I have selected a wife for you. It is | Mile. Moran. Bat I bave no desire to marry, | said, I desire it, said my “father, Mile. vend these words. : NM * i i Morgan's baauty, position and wealth | renders her the most eligible wife for you. Her father approves of you be will give her a fine portion, and if’ you mary accordiog to my wishes I will settle a suitable sum upon you and give you the pretty chateau ay Bt. Sauveur, which you have always #0 much admired. [can afford to be generous to an obedient son, but ir I am offended with you, what have ym! Not a wou, Ab, well, said be, I see you under. stand the situation. He walked away from me well sat jsfied. I remained where he had Jest me. I asked myself what 1 should do. I could pot tell him that I loved some nu else. Love bad nothing to do with his plase. Teould not tell him thet svother loved me. What would he care for a soy girl without a peony in ber purse! With his consent 1 should evr witty her, even were there no Mile. Moran on «arth. I might rest bis authority Neti ARO1te GAL aban at geod Sel gp ogee et glooerp ine 3 : “ould we? Could I? I thought of my own elegant house; of the style in which I had always lived; of the lux. uries that had grown to be necessities to me, I shaddered, Perhaps time will help me. I said to myself. I will pot anger my father yet. 1 will remain passive. I will never marry Mile. Moran; but if it amuses old people to talk of our be. trothal let them do it. So I salved my conscience. Once or twice n week my father took me formally to eall upon young Mille, Moran. The rest of the evening I made love to my little Arline. She lived with ber old grandfather on an upper floor in a dismal street, but the room was bright and clean enough, and she was as pretty and as fresh as a rose, : Together we supped upon bread and radishes and claret, which I brought with me in a long bottle. These were delicious feasts. They were sweetened and flavored by love: She did not know that I was a rich man. She did not care whether I was rich or poor. Neither of us looked far into the future. We were young and the present sufficed us. Whe her whether we walked through the gas lit streets or wondered on seme day out into the pleasant country was long. Meanwhile Mlle. Moran | gave me her polite attention when we | met, and made no objection whatever | ) to our parents plans, Loving Arline as I did, I was still | l. You who have known me in battle will think I belie myselt, but at one sod twenty I was a moral cow- ard. I despise myselfas I write, but I have promised to tell the truth. | allowed matters to proceed without A COwan interruption, until at last I was formal ly affianced to Mile. Moran. Isign- ed the marriage contract with my own hand, and then I felt that I could not | i : ; | longing within me grew iotense, retrace my steps. Satan whispered in my ear. What does 1t matter 7 Marry the lady. Your little shop girl does not know anything about you. Keep your fortune and yoar sweetheart also, I obeyed his whispers. I managed my little affairs 80 as to avoid suspic ion on both sides. Reckless of the wrong | was doing to two good and pure young girls, I floated down the stream toward my wedding day. But Satan always deserts his friends st last. A letter from my father, which I had recklessly carried about with me, fell from my pocket unseen by me ove night as] parted from Arline, She read it. Perhaps jealousy prompted her; and she fancied that she might have discovered a rival's billetdoux. At all events she read it sod learned from it all the truth. Charged with it I could not deny the facts. I could only vow that I loved her and her alone, Poor child! As she listened I saw all hope and sweetness die out of her face. White and de- sparing, with her eyes dilating and her lips set hard, she looked at me and said nothing. She drowned her- self in the Seine that night, and when next I saw her it was upon a marble [slab in the morgue, her hands upon her breast, her hair falling about her like a black veil, my ring upon her fioger. My friend I did pot marry Mile. Moran. Remorse overwhelmed me at last. I confessed all to my father, broke my engagement, and, leaving home and friends behind me, enlisted] in the army. I sought death, Those who seek him he shuns, I was called a brave man. Who that hated lite would not be brave? When you knew me I wore the captain epauletts. I need not tell you of my soldier's life or the wounds by which I was in. valided, Hearing of them, my father, who had at last forgiven me bestowed upon me his pardon snd gave me his little place at 8t. SBauveur. Here I have lived since, a ews, shattered wreck, : we : | whispered together in the little garret | OSL gay. I still drove my servant | or went arm in arm to see a play; | SWAY, but it was that this unseen be- | holi- places—we were as happy as the day | | creature at my side, | fond being, over and over again, but man at times. Greatly as I needed him, I often drove my attached old soldier servant from me, and one day when I had done this I sat alone in my great chair by the seaward window of my sleeping apartment, wheo a very strange thing happened to me I feit a hand upon my head, It was a woman's hand, soft and warm and gentle. It trifled with my curls in a fathion that thrilled me with memor- ies of the past, I was not frightened. I was sim- ply perplexed. I spoke. I said: “Is some one near me whom I do not seo?” But there was no answer, Soon I fell asleep, lulled as a babe might be by its mother's caresses by that phantom touch. This bappeved more than once. Thence still stranger things occurred, I became aware that some minister- creature was near me, Inanimate ob- {jects were moved toward me at my need without any visible human agen. ey. Books were brought within my reach. Flowers were plucked from the vines without the door. A glass of wine was poured out and set be- fore me, and after all these little of fices came soft caresses, A kiss, a touch of a hand upon my cheek. The most loving and tender | being was this spirit, and I longed to |see it with a longing indescribable. {I was no longer unhappy. I grew | ing might manifest itself to me. You, my dear friend, I remember | I dreaded that a revela- | {tion of the truth might drive away | my spirit love forever from my side. I have told you all that there is to I think. After all, | comes to write it down it is |much. 1 it up in these | words: Whenever I was alone this ered spirits, i } i { tell, when one not so sum few | noseen form was beside me. At night brow, a breath felt a woman's cheek against my mingling with | brow; by day there was a loving, kind my I prayed for an | audible word, for one glimpse of this The | pleaded with heaven for more than had been given me. At last my pray- er was answered. My own hand | was seized as I sat at my writing | table. Great irregular characters were dashed across the payer. They | read thos: You ask for what would give you | pain. Let matters remain as they | are. Oune is near you who loves you | so that her spirit has won its way earthward to minister unto you. heard and nothing. “aw I wrote beneath these lines: Let me see her, And theo this was written: You shall have your way. To-night you | shall see ber. How I waited for tonight's com- | ming! How eagerly my eyes sought | to pierce the shadows of the gatheriog twilight! I sent my servaol away hima for hours, light a lamp. more and more rest.ess. Had I been deceived! Would my wish actually be gratified? Where were the hands that were usually hovering about me? What was this feeling of loneliness and desolation? My eyes wandered from spot to spot. They saw noth ing. The room grew dark. It was a moonless night, and only the pale stars looked in between my window cortins, Still I watched, growing hopeless, fearing that I bad driven my ministering spirit from me; but at Instat last, as I sat staring foto vacancy, a light more brilliant than the star light filled the room. As it grew a low, soft breathing like that of a muffled dram fell upon my ear, and slowly, amid the soft, hazy radi- ance, a picture began 10 grown fe male figure lying prove, with its hands upon its breast, and a wealth of hair falling about it like a veil. At first a mere outline, at Inst vivid in every form and liot—a desd woman; with eyes half open, and pale lips apurt— a beautiful, awful thing—Arline, as I bad seen her Inst, in the awful sil. noe bf the ng, ' " . of motion. years since I came hes dd of ho pet i , E r sian Bae of Pe a ar hardy 78 AA LADIIEN A atwnbuin le A i | mye Yo sadoi ams bas , Wino il sto 9 L RE ® Las YL wou adic on oe i] o * 3 { State of New York. used to congratulate me on my r cov. | | alcoholic beverages, | tion, because it | and daily observations, that there is { | and I forbid him to] | As the shadows thickened I grew | man like Arline, can thus forgive, what may we not hope fro. an au gust creator? I mwait the hour; that sweet spirit comes no more to me, The bonds of life are breaking, Be- yond the darkness a falot light is shining, and it may be that her hands shall clasp mine yet somewhere be- yond the reach of sin and sorrow. Adieu, my friend, Whether thou believest me mad or not, thou shalt know my story. Thine, Avorrsa Le Mar. * * * * * * Col. Mestayer folded the paper and placed it in bis bosom, He shed a few tears over it, and he pondered many hours. Whether he thought his poor friend mad I do not know: He did not say so when he handed the manuscript to me, nor have | formed any conclusion upon the sub- ject. rn W A—— W.C.T.U. COLUM, CHARACTERIRTIC CLIPPINGS FROM LIQUOR PAPERS, An hundred and fifty delegates to the Wine, Beer and Liquor Dealers’ Association of New York,. claiming 12,000 members at their late meeting in Brooklyn, made the following dec- laration : “It has become self-evident that to preserve our business in such a man. ner that we may pursue it honorably, | without fear or favor, we have heen It is known as the Wine, Liquor and Beer Dealers’ of compelled to form an association. Association the It is organized to pro‘ect ourselves from the enact ment of unjust and fanatical and to urge the repeal of such Jaws, laws, In the furtherance of such object we hereby pledge ourselves to lay aside all political preferences, and to de feat any and all candidates for offices such equitable laws as we, as good citizens of public trust who will not give and honest merchants, entitled to. “The opposition to the liquor trade are has steadily grown during the past year, and bas now reached alarming proportions. It is absolutely neces- sary that ooremitting and energetic be taken this movement, not only for the protec- measures to oppose tica of liquor dealers, but also for | the sake of the constitutional rights of American citizens.” The Champion, Chicago, bas this to say concerning the effect which re- ducing the number ot saloon has on reducing the ceosamption of liquor: “The decrease in the drinking places does not necessarily produce a proportionate decrease in | the consumption of stimulants sod | Ia fact we have | number of once proven, and no Prohibition or. gan has ever contradicted our asser- is founded on facts geoerally more driokiog done in a | | town or any portion of a large city | where there are but two saloons than | where there are six. Our main ar | gument was that when a few jolly fellows meet in one saloon, instead of i upon an errand which must detain | being scattered in three or four places, | ear, delightiol follow, sud 0 stten- | there is more treating going on and Hence, we {say that both from a financial aud | more liquor consumed. | temperance standpoint, the imposition | the number of saloons to a few, and of such a high license as will reduce | give them a monopoly of the business is a very stupid legislative measure, and should be avoided.” The Germans of Philadelphia have organized “to crush the life out of the black dragon of Prohibition,” as the Public Leader of Detroit puts it. Ite Central Committee meets every Sunday. The Leader thus epitomizes its creed : “The constitution sets object of the society as being ‘to se cure the abolition of all laws not adopted to the customs of the times. | by means of political sction. Ioas muck as this can only be secomplish. ed through the ballot, the constitu tion provides that no person shall Le eligible to membership woo is not a | citizen of the United Stats, or who! has not Laken steps to procure natur. alization papers. It is also provided that in each politeal canvass every candidate shall be questioned by a forth the | a United States wh ch be counted on for the cause of lidtior, out of raw ma- terial sent here by Germany; and to strike down every temperance candi- date at the polis, snd thus drive po- litical parties into repealing all the features of the laws that really hurt the liquor traffic.” If the liquor power is thos *con- stantly manofacturing citizens of the United States who can be counted on for the cause of liquor, out of raw ma- terial sent here by Germany,” is it not about time that the Government manufactures citizens who can be counted ou to defend the home, out of native-born American women ? “HUMOROUS, —————— A Free Dissen.— Well, doctor, asked a layman, what have you been doing lately ? . I have been experimenting on guin- aa pigs. dave you discovered any new facts about them ? asked Harry. I have learned one very strange fact about them——that if you hold a guin- ea pig up by the tail its eyes will drop out, What! I don’t believe it, Don't believe it? repeated the doc- tor. No, I don’t that nature would be so cruel to one of its crea~ believe lures, doctor, Do you dare bet on it. I'll bet anything in the world you are in the wrong, doctor. Dige! the doctor, sharply. a dinner at Delmonico’s said We the quesion soon enough. Come tw Tim Clark's. They were standing beforz the As can setile tor House, and hastened down Broad. way, turned into Fulton street and were soon in Tim's store, surrounded by yelping dogs, chattering m mKeys and other darlings of nature, Tim, said the skeptic, eagerly, you Ah, guinea pigs in thatdark corner, lift up one by the tail. Koep guinea pigs? those are Well Tim, Not me, said Tim, winking Kowing- ly with bis left eve Why not? asked Harry, angrily. For the same reason that I wouln't lift you up by the 1ail if any one ask- ed me. Because it hain't got noe. Me. Moxrcomey Sarey ar Hous. —Mr. Montgomery has recently been staying out late at nights. Mrs. Montgomery has wept a good deal and protested somewhat, but Ferguson | | has always had very good excuses, Are you going down town to-night, Fergy, dear? she asked the other eve- ning. Um-—yes, I've got to go down to attend to some busivess, replied Mr. | Montgomery. Will you be out late? I donut know. Dou't sit up for me, dear and don’t worry. I may be de- tained. Ob, you needn't harry home, said Mrs. Montgomery unconcernedly, Why? demanded Ferguson. Ob, I expect Charlie Howard over | to spend the evening with me. You remember Charlie don’t you? Such a tive to me before | was married. Don’t w wry adout getting home ear | ly, dear, — — SINGING THEMSELVES TO SLEEP. Mra Merriam Grant, one of the h people wounded in the disaster, was in the rear car with her In this car was a party of In order that they Mr. and Mrs with a yonng Their courtesy husband, six young people. might sit together, Grant changed seats man and his bride. saved their lives, for the young people were killed. Mrs. Grant thought this party were theatrical people or concert singers, they were so jolly and sang so well. They could sing aod they lsughed and told stories and anticipated the pleasure of the trip up composed herself in ber chair and covered her face with her handke:- body in the car was quiet except the | jolly party of six. About this Vime the young bride was requested to sing “Nearer, My God to Thee.” Some- thing in tle desire to sleep ani rest i HAY i BR Yo or ped ine ! Ir Ho : get 1 ov 4g , reentied-(thbiigenr dd rong. ~The and all listened | ne of devl 4a Chatsworth | ny fire | ws down the grade. Again the fotig swelled in; “Thote lot the way sppesr, steps tite Heaven The way was already in sight, “All that Thou sendest we in mercy given." And then, with but & moment of life left for ench of them, even when poor Ed. McClintock’s hand was giv ing its last desperate wrench to the engine the singers sang to their God; "Angels ts beckon me, Newer, muy God w Thee" Enough. It was fluished. The engines struck the frafl bridge snd it sank. The car containing the singers crushed like a bolt of Tove through the two cars in front of it, killing and grindiog as a foot kills « worm. In the same instance auother car erashed through it, and the singers were dead. — - The Divorce M CHicAGo, 11), September 25, —Yester- day was the red letter day in the history of rhe divorce courts of Chicsgs. More BOB E— lsrgest number on record for one day—were disposed of, than one hundred said to be the de'sult cases The repu- headguar. ywib of the ¢ y's pop- wistion, snd the fact that the tation for Chicago ss a divores ters, the materia) gr judges refused during their vacations this have Yesr are var- the ceptional hewviness of the calendar, to bear any but urgent matters, ously assigned ns the enoses for ex. Five courts, exclusively occupied with divorces, were working shnultaneously, The two hundred and odd persons wh oe matrimonial existence it was proposed to judicially murder were lost in the crowds of symwpathiz ng friends and curious special tion r who came 10 witness the exec. Awsy up in the 1 } n pn 5 urs Bouse, on the floor nearest heave; ¥ Kept erowded ¢ the five divorce mills Br spa is elvators ‘ y 1 : , : were constantly bringing {r ’ 2 ' iodder for the ih om the bovtom floors the ng, uj down nn Was qt preing als looked { them RITAY somestic fore Owing ing marrisge knots were loosed between ill.matcbed couples "4 with even) more than the usus celerity o Ch I ne | the seats and the aisles CAgO divorce courts belore every ¢ of the five judges : between were densely packed with a mot. ly crowd, and not a syllable uttered by a shamed, broken.hesrded escaped | them. Men dropped in only to find them- find themselves of their Sometimes a | pair of green eyes would glare at those wife standing within arms reach Ox-wives, one of intruders. His inner consciousness would tell him and be would turn around | 8 sosred white face. “Papa ! Papa 1" cried a little girl, as a well dressed gentleman came up to one of the elevators a little while afler the court | convened. Tbe child was snstehed away by the lady who held her band, snd the gontieman turned his head and instead of | waiting for the elevator walked down th e stairs and out into the street. He had just been divorced from the lady who had the | child. 1t was well along in the afternoon | before the courts were closed A Double Tragedy. | | Haverminy, Mass., Sep. 25. —James H. Abbott, a shoemaker by trade, shot | and instantly killed his daughter, Mrs, | E. Burton Cummings on Friday night and then blew out his brains. The | double tragedy occurred at the married | woman's home, No. 4 Porter street: {| Mrs. Commings had been attending an | invalid neighbor, and about 9 o'clock | returned home. She wentimmediately to her apartments, where Abbott had preceded her but a few moments, She had barely disappeared up the stairs when a pistol shot started the other oc- cupaats of the house, and in a second another report was heard and a heavy fall followed, Mrs. Kimball, who occupies the low- er tenement, hastened up stairs, forced | open the door of Mrs. Cumm nge' room and found the daughter and father ly- ing side by side, both dead, with tiny streams of blood trickling from the wounds in their heads where the bullets bad entered. Mrs. Commings hed a shawl about her shoulders and Abbott was in his shirt sleeves, with a revolver a few feet from his side. There is vo couse known for the tragedy save an | until late at night. Then Mrs. Grant | yo quanity of alcohol snd water, vid bh Avbott had been indulging in qette ‘ree y. He had not quarrelled chief to go to sleep. Nearly every. | ® ts hic family, snd it is supposed that when the erime was committed he was Lor 2 4 with drink. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers