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BHRdar. I
CHAPTEBIL
! TOUCHY "SUBPEISES" ME.
J1 Touchy made my life a burden for months
before he redeemed his word. At last, alter
a week of alternate devotion and snubbi
tiveness, he hauled me oat for a walk. As
we reached the country, he became festive
and sans: 'In spring a young man's fancy
lightly tarns to thoughts of 11 love at"
Said I, stupidly: "Spring. isn't till next
month."
Touchy returned beamingly: 'I'm not
going to wait till next month. I'm going
to tell you now."
His eyes were very shiny, and he looked
quite serious. A cold chill went down my
back. I felt that something awful was
going to happen.
"Xou are a nice girl," said Touchy, as if
beginning a long speech. "Xou are young.
80 am 3- But we'll get over that You are
frivolous, but I can cure that As it is, I
haven't enough control of you. I hare
made up my mind that I must secure at
once the sole management of you."
I thought I saw a way oat, and I asked,
quakilv: "Do yon want to star me,
Touchy?"
He said he hadn't thought of it, but, in
dulgently, that he would see next year.
Then he jerked my head up and was going
to kiss me. I fell in a limp mess away from
him and against the fence, whereat he said
severely: "Come, Katie, don't be foolish.
Having just asked you to marry me, I ought
to have some rights."
I declared that he hadn't, and that I
wouldn't stand it.
"Sever having done it before," said he
with dignity, "I was perhaps not clear,
but I did the best I could, Miss Tempest,
and I certainly ought to kiss you."
"Oh, Touchy!" wailed I, beginning to
snivel, "what an awful thing."
".Not when you're used to it," he returned
cheerily, again preparing to kiss me.
His serene confidence enraged me. I
stamped my foot, crying how did he know I
wanted to marry him.
"Because," said he, in a blood-curdling
way, "you have encouraged me."
He said "encouraged" with ten-horse
power oi emphasis and conviction. I be
came panic-stricken.
"Ho, no," I cried, "I haven't and never
meant to. Oh, dear, and oh. dear!"
Touchy seemed gradually to catch the
idea.
"Do I understand, Miss Tempest," said
he in an awe-stricken tone, "that you do not
love me?"
"Not the least in the world,1" I cried,
"and please don't call me Miss Tempest
I'm awfully fond of you, Touchy, but I'd
rather die tfian marry you. Don't be augry,
but you'd make an awful husband, you
know, Touchy."
He contradicted this indignantly, and
launched out into a lecture against bare
faced coquetry and impudence, which I,
with tearful vehemence, contested. Half
way home I ventured in a miserable, choked
"voice: "Please, Touchy, be friends and for
give mel"
"Never," he roared, "never! You have
blighted my life, cut short my career, and
led me on to destroy me. I shall drown
myself, and it will be your fault, Miss
Tempest"
"No, indeed, you won't,"! urged anx
iously, remembering Bennie Shine; "you'll
get over it, really."
But he said he wouldn't, except in a
watery grave, and at my door extended his
hand, saying: "Parewll forever!"
I reminded him of the theater, but he
shook his head solemnly and made amotion
with bis arm as if swimming, wheieat I
broke down crying. He at once put his
arms close about me, and asked me in a
voice dripping with tenderness. "Katie,
don't you love me some?"
Mv face was smothered against his coat,
but I managed to shake my bead violently.
, As soon as he felt it he put me at arms
length from him so suddenly that my head
nearly fell off. After a perplexed pause he
beamed.
"I asked you too quick." he said, "that's
it, ana be rubbed my bang in my eyes,
told me not to fret and departed whistling
cheerfully.
Prom that day I was waylaid at all times
and places, and asked if I hadn't changed
my mind; or he would stand in corners and
intimidate me by making that swimming
motion. Often, before everyone, he would
break into homilies against my sex, de
nouncing us all as flirts. Finally to crown
all, he got a cough. I used to take his
breakfast up to him, explaining each time
that only my regard for a sick human be
ing made me do it, and getting egg shells
thrown at me. Then he assured me, cough
ing frightfully, that he had consumption,
and that excitement made him spit blood.
Bight on top of that he swore if I didn't
change my mind he would s pit a quart of
blood then and there. I bolted down the
hallway calling for a doctor. Once he drew
a dreadful picture of my despairing regret
if he should die and I had never kissed
him. I felt so badly that I knelt right
down by the bed and kissed him solemnly
on the lorehead. "Hang that," was all the
thanks I got; "what good is that to a fel
low?" Afterward, however, he quoted the
kiss as a clear case of leading him on to
destroy him.
I told much of this to Mr. Ned, storming,
when he laughed, that above all things I
hated love and anyone who loved me.
"Suppose I should?." he asked. "You're
so fascinating."
I ignored the sarcasm and said with dig
nity: "i.ou woman t oe so wicked. Xou re
married."
"Yes," said he.
CHAPTER HI.
IOVEB3 JlSTD FBIENDS.
It was a relief to reach Boston and my old
home at my aunt's. I had not been there for
years. The boys had grown to men, and
they were all agreeable to me without
tormenting me after the manner of Touchy.
I anticipated two weeks of peace and happi
ness. There was hardly time for them all.
Bright Hale had grown rich, and had good
ness knows how many turnouts and a yacht
beside. Ernest Marvel, the boy I had cared
best for at school, was now tall and hand
some. He was amember of clubs, had con
cert tickets and art tickets, and there was no
moment of my day for which he had not
some plan. Then Harry Blake owned a
big store, and so on and so on. My head
kept buzzing all the time.
Bright saw the most of me. He had a
breezy way of monopolizing one, and beside
he was just starting ona business trip to
California. The last Priday of my stay he
went away. He shook hands, kissed my
cheek, airily reminded me that I was his
best girl forever, and that I might use his
carriage as often as I wished.
Sunday Ernest called. I rushed down to
the parlor complaining that I thought my
self forgotten.
&o, lconldn tiorget you, even a min
ute." Ernest said somberly. A queer little
chill went down my back, but I dismissed
at "I thought" he went on harshly, "you
would be in mourning for Bright"
"He's not dead," I returned stupidly; "I
shall see him again."
"I suppose so," Ernest answered and fell
into heavy silence, which he presently broke
by a flow of light talk quite unlike'his usu
al way. I complained of it and, since he
did not mend, I cried: "If you can't talk
like yourself, you shan'ttalk at all," and he
forthwith began playing jigs and break-
a !. ..: . .rn 1 . .j 1.! il.
uownauu hue jjiauu, tiu 11c fciuppcu 111s vu
up and down, saying hoarsely:
"Por heaven's sake, don't!"
"Aren't you rather imperative and em
phatic?" questioned I.
He seemed sorry, and asked meekly:
"When do you go?"
"When you like this minute, for in
stance." He seemed hurt and explained gravely
that he meant to ask when did I leave the
city.
"To-morrow morning 9 o'clock," I an
swered. He resumed his walk. I moved restlessly
tad sighed heavily and made my discontent
as ostentations as possible, till he said: "I
know, Katie, but I have so much to tell
you, and the time is short I am afraid to
sav it at all, but I cannot let you go without
speaking. That's itl Your going it tears
my heart out ana I c11 think only ot the
pain."
I got a dreadfully solemn feeling. Prom
some inspiration right from my heart I
walked over to him, and laying my hand as
near his shoulder as I could reach I said in
a very gentle voice for me: "Please, dear
Ernest we have known each other all our
lives ever since I was a little girl I have
been fond of you and we shall be sorry to
say goodby, but it will not tear my heart
out, nor yours, either." He moved as if to
speak, but I harried on: "You must not
think me changed because for a few years
you have not seen me. You and I are
friends, just as we were at school. "We can
never be any more, or any less. It is a lovely
ming to ue irieuuo u, wu it wuuiu uc uu
if I should, or you should, do anything to
spoil or change it would it not. Ernest?
No, don't answer. No one should think
twice of me, Ernest I am just as I used to
be selfish and thoughtless and frivolous.
I haven't a bit of heart dear -Ernest in
deed I haven't, except so much as can ache
with regret if anyone for whom I care comes
to pain through me. -Please understand,
Ernest and don't let's talk of this any more
please, please, for my sake!"
I had been hurried on by some frightened
impulse. It seemed to me that it would be
the saddest thing in the world if Ernest
should change. The tears were in my eyes
at the thought His face softened and
gleamed as if from an inward light He
clasped his hands over mine that was pushed
against him, and bending kissed my fingers.
Then he answered: "I know, Katie, you
are warning me. Out of your gentle heart
you are trying to save me the pain of the
mistake which, for all that I must make.
It is too late and I must go through with it
mistake or not Do Ton think I could see
you as I have and my heart not grow abont
you till only you are there, and will you
tell me there is no hope for me? I am a big
fellow, and I don't know much abcut how
one should ask such thing;, bnt it is humble
enough, is it not? if I put my knee to the
ground so and lifting my arms only to
touch your bands, tell you that I love you
1 love you J. love you.
He turned his "face with a sort of sob
against my dress. I slid, a limp, miserable
wreck, into the chair behind me, and began
stupidly rubbing his head, while I said,
more or less, that I was so sorry, that for the
world I would not give him pain, but that
I knew I should be a wicked girl if I did
not honestly tell him the truth. He stood
unsteadily asking: "And that is?"
"That I do not love yon the least in the
world more than I always have," I made
answer, crvmg softly; that on, forgive me,
Ernest I know I never shall feel lor you
as some day I expect to feel for the man I
shall marry."
He took me close in his arms, kissing my
forehead and cheek and eyelids. His lips
were eold. Then he put me from him, say
ing vaguely: "Goodbyl"
'No, no," Ernest" I.cried, "you must not
go that wav. You must care for me as you
always have as I caro tor you, and always
will. Our dear friendship must not be
broken up. I cannot spare it I will not.
You will forget that you ever felt like this."
"Do you think so?" he asked, and his
eyes had such a look of somber pain in them
that I felt as if I were murdering him. All
I could do was to turn angry.
"Have I no rights?" I cried: "now can
you take from me a friendship I have never
forfeited, the sincerest deepest proof of
which I have just given? I never wanted
you to love me, and I won't have it, I
won't give you up. I hate people to love
me. Why "could you not be nice, and fond
ot me, as Bright Hale is, and stay so?"
At the name his face darkened. "Had
Bright asked yon, your answer would have
been dinerent, he said, doggedly.
I gave a small scream of rage "Oh 1
would it? Please let me tell you Bright
would not do such a thing. He is too kind
to repay a girl for a friendship, which has
lasted nearly as long as she has, by falling
in love with her, arid then throwing her off
as you propose doing. Bright Hale would
not do so cruel, unkind, unnecessary, dread
ful, disastrous a thing as loving me.
He "
A discreet rustle at the door, and Mary
AnfAail ('ATV TTala ttiipc ' mm mi? a,H
in walked Bright Ernest broke into laugh
ing. "You see The said, and then to Bright:
"Good luck, old fellow. I am just leav
ing." I lifted my hand in protest against his
bitter implication, and with a hurried greet
ing to Bright followed Ernest to the door,
saying: "Please forget it all and be
friends." He drew a long breath, that
made me feel his heart was breaking, and
said hoarsely, his arms straining abont me:
"Let me say once more that I love you. I
shall have no right soon."
"Where are you going?" I whispered in
miserable anticipation.
"To the back bay, I suppose," he re
turned harshly. "Never mind me go to
Bright Good-by," and he was gone.
I stood a moment in the hallway. Was
ever a girl so unlucky as I, or anything so
wearing or worrying as a man's love? Then
I hurried into the parlor.
"I thought you half way to California," I
said, reaching out my hands.
"I was halt way to Chicago," said Bright,
and then paused. His eyes were gleaming,
his voice quite new, I shivered a little, and
stood staring anxiously at him. "I was half
way to Chicago when I found I had some
thing to say to you, and "
I broke wildly to the other end of the 1
room behind a chair, saying: Don't you do
it! I won't have it!"
"You've got to, Katie," he returned stead
ily; "I should have spoken before I went
away, but at least I have come back all this
way to say it!
"You shall not" I interrupted again. "I
won't hear it Haven't I been holding you
up as a shining example, and swearing by
you? What have I done to deserve all this,
anyhow?" and I stamped one foot after the
other.
"You have been yourself that's all, Kate
the sweetest, frankest most winsome self
that ever breathed. You have looked at me
from two of the clearest blue eyes that ever
won a man's heart. You have spoken from
two lips that are sweeter to look at than any
lips in the world you "
"I have not! I've got two eyes and a nose
and a month, like any other girl. I'm like
any one else, and I don't deserve to be
treated so. Go home before you say any
more. I won't hear it!"
"Kate, darling, you must hear it A man
takes no such trip as I have -to be set aside
without hearing. I love von as no one else
can. J. am rich you shall have everything
you want "
"I don't want it" I put in breathlessly.
"Then you needn't have it," he replied
without pause, and going on as if I had not
spoken. "I love you from the tip of the
curl on your forehead, through every pink
finger to the sole of your tiny shoes, and I
will be answered."
"My shoes are not tiny. I wear sevens
sevens, do you hear: an'dl haven't heard a
word you've said. I told you I wouldn't"
"Then," said he, somehow setting aside
the chair, and holding me fast in his arms,
MI will say it again. I love -von from the
top of your head to the sole of" your foot of
both feet aad I want the right to go on lov
ing you more and more." I was being
kissed on hair and eves and lips. I strag
gled free. "To think' that you, of all per
sons, should so ill use me.-"
"No, no," urged Bright anxiously; "but
think, a man is only a man, and you give
me no answer. I can be humble, if you
like," and he was at my feet
"Oh get up, get upl I won't stand it"
and I thought of Ernest "I have been an
swering ever since you came. I do not love
you, I never will, I never will never oh
dear!"
"Be careful, Kate. Don't speak too
harshly. A man's heart and life are of
some value. 1 deserve some considera
tion." "Oh, Bright" I begged, beginning to
cry, "do not love me. You should see I
have no heart I care only lor friends.
Soon as a man loves me I hate him. Be
my friend. Bright I want one so. I am
as nice as I ever was for a friend. I have
not changed."
said he, locking
'X can no lonccr
see yon but that my heart leaps to hold you
in my arms lorever. xcs, x nave cnangea.
The light of your eyes puts meon fire. The
touch of your hand will mak,e me forget
even your own command. Tell me to stay
and I will be gentle and never forget till I
have won yon; but ask me to stay as your
friend, and I "J r
"Oh, I know," r interrupted; "you will
shoot yourself, won't yon ? Because I offer
you all I have for you, and stick to the
truth that I have no more, I am to be hol
lered at like that, and oft you march to the
devil. Aren't you ashamed ? I. never
asked you to love me, did I ? Why should
I get all the blame of it? Why must we
always be bullied by the men who pretend
to care for us?"
His face turned gray, "ion dare not
speak so to me." he whispered hoarsely, his
head sinking between his shoulders as he
looked at me, and his eyes gleaming
savagely.
I was so frightened that I could make no
move at all when he seemed ready to crush
the life from me, and could not take my
eyes from his, angry and cruel as they were.
He must have seen how afraid I was, for of
a sudden he loosed me, calling himself in a
miserable, shamed way a brute.
I would not let him turn away, and I said
in an eager tumble of words: "Please,
Bright, look at me. You can see I don't
love you, can you not? First make sure of
that Then be kind and generous and good,
and don't you throw me off. I cannot lose
all my friends."
"Ernest too," said he, tne thought just
coming to him.
Then he lifted my face and looked at me.
I was not afraid, but when I oould not see
any more for tears I asked again: "Be
friends. Bright."
He drew a long breath, and said: "You're
a brave little girl, Kate." After a moment
he went on: "So everyone is falling in love
with you and bothering your life out? Well,
at least I won't do that I'll I'll be friends,
Kate."
The words came slowly, and his lips, al
though he smiled, were so white that I
hastened to show how much I appreciated
his goodness.
"Thank you thank you," I said, adding
earnestly: "I love you more for that than
ever I did before."
His face twitched and be said, smiling
again: "It would be kind to choose your
words better, Kate." Then after a long
stare at me, he said with complete return to
his old manner: "Good-by, Kate." I
must get away from you now, but don't
think any more of this. Only remember,
no matter how many lovers you have,
you've one friend."
"Thank yon, Bright" I said, again
lauehine aloud from happiness.
He made a face half comic and half seri
ous. "Don't lauzh. I'm going to shoot
myself, may be. That s what they all do,
isn't it?"
"Or drown themselves," I observed
meekly, "or go to the devil."
"All right, I'll take my choice when I
get out Good-bv, Kate."
I stood on a hassock, reached my arms
about his neck, and kissed him on both
cheeks, saying gratefully: "You have been
awfully kind to me, Bright, and indeed I'm
very thankful,"
"Well, you ought to be," he assented
grimly. Wringing my hand he said an
other cheery "good-by. Bemember your
friend," and was gone."
I sighed a big sigh. Ah! how much nicer
friendship was than anything else, I thought,
gratefully.
CHAPTEB IV.
A COMPLICATION OF FETES.
Behearsal. A bitter March day. Theater
full of draughts. One gas jet Daylight
dribbling through ventilators in the roof.
Sweepers shouting to each other from where
they were covering the chairs with white
cloths. Everybody cross, and with reason.
Called at 10, we had waited a good half
hour for Mr. Butcher and his leading lady.
The day before I had come two minutes late
to find the entire company assembled.
Mr. Butcher watch in hand, pacing the
stage, and Miss Loowella shivering ostenta
tiously in her furs. Mr, Butcher had' In
formed me that snch a thing as being two
minutes late was unheard ol, and that
probably I had caused Miss Loowella to
take cold.
Said I now to Mr. Ned, who sat beside
me on a roll ot carpel: "When-they come I
shall tell him they have probably caused
me to take cold."
Just then he strode in with Miss Loo
wella at his heels. He was in an ill humor.
"Come, come, come, come!" said he in
crescendo. "Let's get to work. No stand
ing around. A chair for Miss Loowella.
Ned, where are your manners? A chalrl"
Ned, who off the stage would have
knocked a man down for such a tone, obeyed
sullenly. Butcher got crasser and crasser,
and it all fell on me. It is hard to do a
comedy scene all bundled in a cloak and
mm tn flontf, ttMa "TTon. ft ' 1,a
roared, "take it off."
I wondered I had not thought of that be
fore and hustled out of the garment; but I
was still stupid, and presently began.to cry.
"What are you sniveling for?" Batcher
demanded hoarsely. "One would think me
a brute. You should be in Siberia, with a,
man with a whip after you."
I laughed that it was cold as Siberia, and
that I shouldn't mind the whip if only with
it he could make me understand what, he
wanted,
"Are you a fool?" he inquired.
"No," I retorted, "not quite, and what
intelligence I have is concentrated on try
ing to make out your meaning. If you
would direct your giant mind to expressing
yourself clearly we should get" along.
Therel" and I stamped my foot and waited
for Butcher to plunge over and murder me,
wondering if Mr. Ned or Touchy would
dare save me.
Butcher didn't plunge, though. He mut
tered something about insolence, and turned
so abruptly that he collided with Tonchy.
"Don't run into me, sir," he roared.
Touchy was in a temper over the bullying
of me, and he roared back: ""I didn't!'
"you did."
"Sir?"
"You'je a liar," they both retorted simul
taneously, springing at each other. Some
one caught each of them, and presently
Touchy was getting his inr coat and hat on.
Then he crossed to me, and said, under his
breath: "If you want to leave this fellow,
I'll take you safe to New York."
"No, no," I cried, and begged him to
stay. But he meant his "Good-by," for
when we got to the hotel he had departed,
bag and baggage. It was two years before
I saw him again. Then we met in a railway
station. He rushed to me, jerked my head
back, and cried: "Bless my heart, its
Katie." With that he tucked me under his
arm, and pranced with me into the ladies'
waiting room.
"Katie, here's my wife," he said, beaming
all over at a wee, blue-eyed thing. "I'm
happy as a king," Touchy Jventon; "though
Birdy here doesn't let ue call my soul my
own.
I shook hands cordially with Birdv. feel
ing glad that Touchy had not drowned him
self prematurely for me.
Now let us regain those two elapsed years.
May be the rehearsal gave' me a cold.
May be it was griet for Tonchy. But the
next week I developed a cough that went
down button by button of my bodice till it
reached my belt There it hurt awfully. I
grew feverish, and could not see very clear
ly, nor move without being tired. I thought
myself lazy, and laughed a great deal and
was noisy to cover it up. Only Mr. Ned
noticed it Ho quietly emptied my bag
into his, that mine might be light He
helped me up and downstairs, a'nd into cars,
and took my part when I was blamed for
frivolity. To make things worse, Miss
Loowella slipped away to New' York to buy
dresses for oar Philadelphia week, and I
was left with her part to do through two
weeks ot one-night-stands. Toward the end
of the time I became so wobbly that I could
not stand except on the stage. "
One day Mr. Ned carried me upstairs,
and found me in a dead faint when he got
to my room. When I came to he said
angrily: "IsHall permit
xou must nave a doctor.
"Can't afford it." I returned cheerily.
"Besides, what's.the good of seeing a doctor
for laziness?"
"I will pay."
"You'd be compromised," I objected.
"And I shall order you a fire."
"Can't afford it," I said again fretfully.
He looked at me in a queer earnest way,
and then turned sharply from- the room.
Presently our business manager, a pros
perous looking fellow with a suave manner
and a big diamond pin, came in.
"I understand you are not well, Miss
Tempest" e sai softly, "and that you re
fuse to have a fire. I will order one."
My face blazed as I answered shortly: "I
will have nothing, I can't afford, thank
you.' ,
"You don't understand," he insisted
sweetly. "Miss Loowella is not due for
several days. If yon fail to play, the thea
ter closes. I must therefore as a business
insist upon your taking care of your
self, and I shall order you a fire and a
doctor."
I struggled to my feet and answered
quickly. "You may order me a coach and
tour if you like. Don't be afraid I will
pay only, when Miss Loowella returns, T
hope then I may be allowed to die if I like
without being insulted."
Our genial manager said soothingly that
I had an awful temper, and softly left the
room. I lay ou the sofa, crying, and feel
ing very small and lonesome. I was all
over tears when Mr. Ned brought the doctor
in. He was young and strong looking. He
laid a vigorous hand on my wrist pushed
my hair back in a womanly fashion, and
said quietly: "Avery sick girl. She must
go to bed and stay there."
"Oh, no she mustn't" said I. "If she fails
to play the theater closes. So she can't go
to bed."
"But your life, child."
"Think of the theater," I answered,
adding earnestly. "One must do her duty,
mustn't she, doctor?"
He looked at me seriously and kindly.
Then he said I must do as I thought right
He mixed some stuff in glasses from his
case, gave Mr. Ned a lot of instructions,
said he would see me in Philadelphia,
where was his home, and departed with a
parting admonition to me io take such care
of myself as I could.
"How can he be here if he lives in Phila
delphia?" I asked crossly, for being sick
seemed to spoil my temper.
"He visits here to lecture at a medical
college," Mr. Ned explained absently.
I lay back, remembering how firm and
kind xhis hands had been. Then things
blurred and my eyes shut up. I came from
my half swoon to find Mr. Ned kneeling be
side me with his arms across me.
"Katie, Katie!" he was saying brokenly,
"don't be ill for my sake,"
I thought him very kind, and laid my
hand over his saying, gratefully: "How
good you are; I'm only lazy don't mind.
Whatever should you cry for?"
xlb aiu mi iace in uic iotas 01 tne snawt
about my throat, and said, over and over
again:
"God help me, I love you I love yon!"
I struggled with the heavy stupidity
which fever laid upon me, saying it was all
a dream, and not true not true. Then,
when I felt his lips hot and eager on my
throat and hands and eyes, I pleaded that
he must not, and that I was very ill, whereat
he dragged himself away.
Por a long time everything was a misera
ble confusion. Weary staring days, rush
ing cars, noise and light always. A ques
tioning each morning if I thought I could
play at night and a dogged answer always,
"Yes.1
ging into dresses that each night had to be
tightened oyer the shoulders to keep them
from slipping off; waiting in the wings sure
that I could neither hear my cue nor move
when I did; then a merry rush on, my voice
sounding strange and my Iangh like an
other person's and the line of footlights
wavering up and down so fast that I
seemed to be dancing before a wall of fire.
Then the nightly swoon, after it was all
over, and being lifed into the carriage
.... ..Uv. .. . toi, uias.
wnicn tne management provided as a mat
ter of business. And through it all Mr.
Ned doing everything.
Mr. Ned! Mr. Ned, to whom I clung in
dumb gratitude for his kindness, in spite of
tne nigntmare 01 wnat ne had tola me, and
kept on telling me. I was so afraid, too,
that people would see. The horror of being
blamed for making a good man forget his
borne and his honor was always before me.
Por I was sure he was good, and over and
over I lifted a weak hand to shut out the
hungry light in his eyes, and said that, if
he would only try, in a little while it would
all pass and his heart would go back where
it belonged. Each time he would answer:
"As long as I live I shall love you."
I got all confused. He said such wonder
ful things. My head went round till I
could not tell right from wrong. Some
times when he told me that only if I was
good to him could he remember his con
science and his honor, it seemed as if I
should do better by the wife, whom I never
forgot, if I was patient and let him love me.
He argued, too, that he asked nothing ex
cept to be allowed to love me, and to serve
me, and to know I did not hate fcim. And
of course I did not hate him. 'He laughed
at all my little creed of right and wrong till
it seemed stupid and narrow beside his
older knowledge; yet even when I could no
longer talk against him, I believed in my
soul that my right was the best right and
that if I could only help him he would come
to it.
Bat at last I grew afraid. Once after the
play I swooned, and came to myself to find
Mr. Ned's arms holding me up, and his lips
taking my very me from me. J. cried weak
ly that he was cruel, and he answered no,
no that he must wake up my heart that
he loved me, although I did not know what
love meant At that, and at the hunger of
his lips. I became dreadfully frichtehed.
and straggled free, holding him at arm's
length, and staring scared and horrified to
see if I should know him. He seemed to re
member himself, and said sullenly that men
were only brutes; that he must not forget
now much a child I was, nor spoil all by
frightening me, and saying so he left me.
I lay weak and dazed. As the things be
gan to blur, I said, clasping my hands aud
crying a little: "Please, dear God! I know
I am not a very good girl; but I don't want
to make anyone wicked. Please help me?
We reached Philadelphia. Miss Loo
wella had returned and I could rest Mr.
Ned took me to a hotel, telephoned for the
doctor and came to my room. He was white
and haggard, and his eyes were dull. He
stood beside the chair in which I was
crumpled, and said hoarsely that he could
sooner shoot himself than leave me; that the
time for pretense had passed; that body and
soul and all he loved me, and if I did not
understand he would teach me.
I tore myself out of his arms and my lips
from his. 1 the instant I knew him for
what he was. I stood straight on my feet
and cried that there was nothing in the
whole world so hateful to my sight as he.
That ill alone, and at bfct only a half size
woman, I was not afraid.of him, and that if
he kept in my sight another instant I would
choke him.
Somehow he crept out I remember cry
ing miserably, my arms flung upward, -that
of all things'in the world love was the most
cruel and worst And then I felt
CHAPTER V.
THE DOCTOR'S TREATMENT.
After that I was very ill. The company
left me, and Dr. Katesby came every day.
He asked if there was any one belonging to
me for whom he could send.
"Only Uncle Jeb," said I. "He hates
me because I went on the stage, but if the
curtain is going to' ring down on me it
would only be showing him proper atten
tion to inform him."
I gave my cross old uncle's address. Be
holdl TJhcle Jeb sent back a check for
$5,000 and a letter telling the 'doctor not to
let me die. "She is a silly child," he wrote,
"but her heart is in the right place, except
for being set on the stage."
I wept over that letter, and thought it
rather nice to be dying.
One day Dr. Katesby brought his mother,
and the next thing I knew I was taken to
their home to ('get welV I got well so
SUNDAY, JUNE
slowly that I wondered the doctor did not
lose patience. But he didn't One after
noon he sat by me a lone while, telling me
of a girl who had jilted him, and who, he
thought, had broken his heart forever. I
sat up straight in bed and vowed that of all
things love was the unkindest most unsat
isfactory, crudest worst in the world. We
talked a long time, and he seemed to think
as I did. In the end we shook bands and
he said: "We will be friends, Miss Katie,
forever."
'Yes," said I, shaking his hand with
both of mine, "and I'm awfully grateful to
?ou. Friendship is so nice, and I do want
t" Of a sndden I determined to secure
matters, and I looked at him as solemnly as
I knew how and said: "Promise me sacred
ly that you will never talk to me any way'
bat this way, never look at me except as
you are looking now, and never, never kiss
me." He shook hands again, and I went
on: "We will be just friends always."
"As long as you like," said he.
"Oh! I shall like it always," I answered.
"X never go back on a friend. Friendship
is the best thing in the world the only safe,
happy, comfortable thing isn't it? And
we should be very grateful for the happy
friendship between us."
He said, "yes," and so it was settled.
As I got well I was perfectly happy. The
doctor was always good to me. He was
never too busy to let me come into his office.
He even let me pound pills and wash out
bottles, and dust his instruments. Some
times, when Mrs. Katesby was- tired. I used
to see to his breakfast, and even when he
discovered that I made the toast I was not
forbidden. It seemed to me me that no one
had ever been so kind to me.
At last I was well enough to go to New
York for my May engagement The even
ing before I was to start I sat up for the doc
tor. Mrs. Katesby had kissed me and told
me to. I went wondering abont, touching
things that belonged to him. I had a queer
feeling in my heart I had been so happy,
and dow to go away, and perhaps never I
heard his key and ran to open the door.
"What, little girl; up?" he said.
"Yes," I answered. "Your mother told
me to serve your midnight tea. I don't
think you'should have midnight tea, but I
suppose a doctor knows."
"I suppose so," said he, as I helped him
shake off his coat
I was so quiet at the table that he asked:
"Anything the matter?"
"Only I'm going to-morrow you
know." I returned, "and you wouldn't be
lieve how strange it makes me feel here,"
and I rubbed my hand over the pain in my
side.
"Your heart?" he asked.
"Yes down right miserable," I an
swered. He laughed only softly, but I felt hurt,
and all of a sudden I could not see. He
mast have observed that I was pouring tea
into the sugar bowl, for he calledme to him.
I thought it troubled him to look up. So I
knelt down.
"When yon go away," he asked, "will
you remember we are friends?"
"Yes," said L
"Forever?"
"Yes," said I again, in a dull voice.
"Tell me, Katie," he continued, laying
a hand on each of my shoulders, "have I
treated you as you wished as I promised?"
I nodded, and the tears came up. He
looked at me a moment, then said softly:
"Friendship is the best thing in the world,
the only safe, happy, comfortable thing,
isn't it dear? And we should be very
grateful for the happy friendship between
us." I nodded so hard that the tears spat
tered my hands. He stood up quickly: "I
am off early to-morrow," he said in a differ
ent tone, "and I will say good-by now. Be
good in New York: X shall come about the
15th to see you."
He held out his hand. It was just what a
friend would do, of coarse. 1 pat first one
hand and then the other into it Then, as
he closed his over both, I bent and kissed it
and said: "Good-by. You have been very
gooa w me. jriease, piease QOn I lorget
me."
When I got up stairs I lay down on the
floor, and wept until my head was in a
paddle.
Mrs. Katesby wrote to me sometimes after
I came away. She was so lonely that she
sent for a niece. The doctor liked his cousin
very much. I thought about the cousin all
day and all nitfht. At last the 14th of the
month came. That nightlplaved so well
the manager offered a.rise for th'e next sea
son. The 15th was Sunday. He came. I
talked like a magpie, and spoke of every
thing bat the coasin. When I was talked
out be began. , He questioned me closely
abont the theater.
"Oh, yes," said I, "there is a man, of
course. He told me last night he was going
to shoot himself. I said no he wouldn t to
just take a brandy and soda."
The doctor looked dark. "I will not have
you associate with such people," he said,
grinding his teeth.
"What's to be done?" I returned, lightly,
adding: "He doesn't bother me mnch only
when he takes me to lunch and leans over
the table to say in a husky stage whisper
that he loves me. How men will do such
things at lunches? It's so annoying when
one is hungry. You can't go on 'brutally
eating pannage wnue a man tells you he
has -despair in his heart and a loaded pistol
in his pocket can you?"
The doctor was not amused. "Do you
care for any oi these fellows?" he asked
suddenly.
For my life I could not tell the truth: "I
don't know," I answered sulkily. Then all'
at once 1 cried: "Do you care tor your
cousin?"
"Very much," he answered absently.
Then he asked in a strained way if I
thought we could still be friends if either of
us married, and in the same breath in
formed me that he was going to Europe.
My heart had been filling up tighter and
tighter. Now it burst I gave a gasp.
"Are you going to leave me?" I said.
"Katie." he said, feeling his way
through the words, "there is nothing else
lor me to ao.
"Don't you care for me at all that you
break my heart so?" I cried, pushing my
hands hard together, "am I the side of tne
house that you look at me as if you did not
see me? What have I done that you
should treat me as if you hated me? I will
not have it; I'll go out and drowmnyself."
"iiatie," saia ne steadily, remember the
promise you compelled me to make.
A great light flashed before my eyes. I
stood up and reached oat my hands. "Oh,"
I said, "I see how cruel I have been to peo
ple, for now my own heart breaks. You
may hurt me as much as you like. lam no
coward. Still I will tell you. I know I
made you promise to be my friend and never
to love me I know it and you have kept
your word. X"ou are going to marry your
cousin and go to Europe; but before you go
I will tell you that I love you. It is right
I should have to say it so and for nothing
for I have always been cruel and be
lieved no one but now I know it can be
trne. Though, my heart breaks I am not
afraid, and I say it again Llovn you I
love you!"
The room went all around, and I began
to fall; butaglad cry sounded, and my Doc
tor's arms held me up, and my Doctor's
voice was saying: "My brave little girl
my darling my Kate you have come to
me! and I love you with all my soul, andl
have from the first"
There is no more a Katie Tempest, son-
orette.
The end.
Copyright ISS9.
All rights reserved.
Anticipating the Bereavement.
America. 1
Wilkins Had any bereavement in your
family, Elijah?
TJhcle Elijah No, lab; I ain't had b'rea
vement Whofoh you ask?
Wilkins I noticed you had a band of
crape on your bat and I did not know but
there might have been a loss v in your
family.
Uncle Elijah No, sah, dat ban' was on
de hat when the gen'lemeu give it to me,
an' I didn't know when I mought have 'ca
tion ter go inter mawnin' so I done let it
on like it was.,
WHAT more soothintr after shavinc or
vwlrMhlnfr ffpi ft llnstv 114V .titan T.otmiiIm
but the best, by far, you will find is
Atkinson's. . Bn
HATS.
Airs and Graces Interestingly De
Bcribed by Shirley Dare
SUMMER FABEICS FOR THE FAIK.
Some flints on How the flair Should he
Dre&ed In Bummer.
BED FACES AND HOW TO CUBE THEM
IWBXTTX2T FOB TBI DISPATCH.
Black lace dresses have been worn in
and out of season, from the time the swal
low dared and took the winds of March
with beauty. The consequence is, by com
mon consent they are laid aside, to let the
dust flow out, and give the eyes a rest from
their stnngmess. The corded Escurial and
heavier laces prove do many, nets to hold,
the dust and take a rusty look, while the
large mesh fisher net looks clear andqnietly
dressy, with borders of inch ribbons run on
the foot and up the side width. With such
dresses a small poke or broader hat of black
crinoline,, the old-fashioned Neopolitan
braid, looks pretty, trimmed with a scarfpf
black net, and bow of fancy black ribbon,
which, with its seven loops and notched ends,
four yards' is not too much. Narrow sash
ribbon ot plain soft gros grain is used for
trimming, in loops which nearly cover the
hat, and require or admit nothing else, un
less a quill feather Of the same color.
Every other woman, no matter what her
age, wears a turban in town, not more be
cause it is youthful than for its conven
ience. The full trimming of soft, thick rib
bon relieves the turban of extreme jaunti
ness, and it is comfortable to wear a hat that
its close to the head and admits a veil. The
flaring brim of the Hading or Directory hat
acts as a mainsail to draw the wind, when
there is any, and a toque that can be bound
down to the head with a yard ot grenadine
veiling is indispensable. The sailor hat
proper is the beauty's hat &nd a smooth,
satiny-haired brnnette with a fresh white
reUgh straw sailor in its smooth gros grain
ribbon band'and flat bow takes the eyes up
with her up the street Blondes choose
black, glossy lough straw, with black silver
edged ribbon, while the high-crowned sailor
hat, with broad bows of many loops set airi
ly on the crown, and folded band lose their
juvenility, and take the place of English
walking hats or Alpine hats altogether. The
newest turbans are colored braids ot whole
straw, like braided rushes, in pale green,
gobelin blue and old pink to suit costumes,
and the price of this stylish simplicity is
not less than $20, at the private modistes,
where alone tbey are found.
THE COST OF BEING FASHIONABLE.
It costs a trifle to dress in the front of
fashion, when Bedfern's plainest gowns be
gin at $65 for sailor suits and 95 lor walk
ing dresses, and a coaching hat with 11
plumes is cheap at $25. But London ladies
are beginning to look round for ways to
economize in dressing, and no longer find it
necessary to pay ruinous bills to swell
tailors and modistes. They leave that to the
new Americans who go to get christened
into good society at the high-priced shops,
while Mrs. Pendennis and her pretty sisters
attend the bargain sales and make up half
price materials behind the portieres of their
own rooms at home. An embroidered
crape wool at $5, the dress which was $13
two weeks ago, looks just as pretty and a
clever woman can make a dress in the sim
pler styles now in vogue in two or fhrM.
days at the outside. The China silks at 38
cents a yard make up charmingly with
white lace blouse fronts, and m
judicious use of pearl edged'
ribbons, and white Shanghai silk
at $10 for a full pattern, and ecru pongee
from 12 M to 25 cents a yard Is as plenty as
it is fashionable. But pongee is painfully
poor looking made up with plain waist
and stringy skirt, commonly seen. It
should have the surplice or gathered waist
with wide soft sash, and the full Empire
Bkirt with narrow ruffled and chestnut vel
vet, or cream and brown embroideries for
relief. White cashmere and flannel soil too
easily for lasting wear, and ecru in pale
shades for dark, aressess, and the "wet sand"
color for blondes, offers a serviceable
change. The "wet sand" shade with yel
low gold, cream and brown embroidery and
brown silk facings sets off a warm blonde
most becomingly, turning all the red tints
of the hair to wheat-like, golden effects.
The experience of this summer will con
vince many wearers that silk of the lightest
sort is not a cool fabric It draws and heats
the skin, especially under a July sun, in
credibly, and the patent leather shoes which
are so happily going out of fashion, com
plete the torture. A few wearers of indi
vidual taste have elegant dresses of black
linen lawn, in directory styles, with
blouses of white Shanghai silk, highly em
broidered between the clustered gathers,
and with ruffles or mechlin. with feather
stitching of black silk in excellent effect
The crisp, fresh look of the lawn and its
feeling recommend it above silk for mid
summer wear Morning jackets of white
birdseye linen or the fine Barnesly damask,
trimmed with linen crochet point or Medici
lace last for a lifetime and are handsome as
they are serviceable.
FOB SUMMER COMFOBT.
The comfortable addition to the toilet this
season is Mha new linen corset just out, so
cool, so light and well fashioned that women
will covet it at sight. The material is a
single thickness of fine, firm shirting linen,
and precisely like the best French corset',
and bearing the magic O. P. stamp, which
will assnre all good dressers ot its irre
proachable figure. The steels are easily re
moved for washing, and as few bones are
used as a corset of good style allows. The
price is $2 75.
Tall walking canes for ladies are inft
shown in a highly fashionable shop, the last
importation ot Parisian seaside fancy. The
canes are white enameled wood or ebony,
nearly five feet tall, thick as a stout walk
ing stick, and finished by gold or silver
heads, and a cord and tassel lower down, in
fan atmilA tl'fliA at!V Aa.vi.il l.w .. a!-..
facsimile of the stick carried by a Swiss
fuaru or a major uomo. xhe fashion is,
owever, not wholly to be laughed at It is
a great relief to delicate women to have
some slight support in walking, and I
personally found one's strength wonderfully
eked out by a cane or crutch. It is all the
difference between coming home fagged out
by a walk, or coming with strength gained.
People with spinal ailments, not fancy ones,
but real, deepseated maladies, will go out
feeling iresh and pretty vigorous lor an
hour or two, when suddenly the strength
gives way. It is anTeffort to stand upright,
and the comfort of a stick or crutch is too
friendly to be told. I have often' thought
of writing a sonnet to my own crutch-for the
comfort it has been the best friend, with
my pillow and my pen that I have ever
known.
The great trouble away from home with
girls seems to be to heat their curling tongs,
without gas in the daytime or any sort of
fire in the country boarding-house. I have
just had to find for two friends up in the
Catskills a cunning contrivance ot an alco
hol pocket lamp, with a wire support for
the curling iron while heating. The whole
thing costs IS cents, shuts in a pasteboard
case, isjight enough to go by mail and small
enouzhtogo in the pocket I know girls
will thank me for "mentioning of it," as
country folk say. How to keep the hair in
curling order is another thing, and to do
this one mnst keep the natural oil ont of
the locks, washing the front hair with borax
or with a dilution of ammonia, one table
spoonful of ammonia to the quart of water
When dry moisten with bandoline and put
in crimp till it dries again. Wetting the
hair with alcohol in hot weather tends to
diminish its danmness. and sBravincr thn
temples and ton of the head with t.v.n.r.
wafo. fW,m ai .tnmFni. ll.u 1....J
headache without the drenching by water.
which spoils the hair u'iwa-r. T'r
must be washed as often as once a week the
warm season through to keep it silky, as it
grows stiff with imperceptible dust settled
on the rings of the hair, if neglected, caus
ing a difference in the shade of color.
A NEW Y0B5 CHARACTER.
For the last 15 years whenever a corre
spondent was short of a subject he turned
a paragraph on Miss Middy Morgan, agri
cultural editor of the Time. My reason
for writing of her is not quite the same, but
some recollections were brought up by see
ing her the other day at her desk on the
spacious editorial floor of the new Times
building. The grand old girl looks a
thought grayer and more gaunt than she
used, but I shall always remember her by
the splendid symmetrical modeling of her
figure in bathing- dress years ago. Her
neck and arms: from the wide sloping shoul
ders to the finger tips were perfection, and
the face above them, in its early days, was a
type of blue-eyed, dark-haired, thorough
bred Irish good looks. Well, being in
amicable conversation with this authority
on grazing once, I innocently asked her to
explain to me what was meant by "grade
cattle," a phrase frequently used in stock
reports. "Ob, its no use," responded the
daughter of the Irish rings, tossing her
head. "You couldn't understand it if I did
explain it." That was rather a taking
down, but I like plain speaking far too well
to quarrel with its eccentrici
ties, and as I since learned without
Eeculiar effort ot mind that grade cattle
aye a definite proportion of pare blood, no
harm was done. Two years after I found
myself lame,dependent upon a crutch at the
Erie depot in Jersey City in charge of a
great basket of snpplies going up country,
and not a soul to help with it. The person
who was to meet me had failed to connect,
as usual, no boy was about when needed,
and those tons railway platforms take you
almost into the country before you reach the
cars. I was moving slowly and pain! ally
along, my crutch under one arm and that
40-pound basket nearly wrenching the other
out of the socket,, when a strong hand swung
the burden from my grasp, and that tall,
easy figure of -a demi-goddess in an old
waterproof dress glided by my side with it,
as if carrying heavy baskets were the most
natural thing in life. Sordid not let go of
it till we were safely cared for, talking
kindly and genially all the way, and that
was the last I saw of her for many a day,
How many times since in dreams that strong
kind arm has come, relieving my strain and
weakness like the sweep of some ready angel
in working garb. How many women could
help another so or would do it if they
coma.
AN3tVEB3 TO INQUIRIES.
Caryophjll wishes for a list of entertaining
books "suited to develop a taste for reading in
a circle of ladies and girls, who find much that
Is recommended rather dulL" Of course tbey
do. A middle-aged young lady lately told me
she had tried to cultivate a taste for reading,
and began Middlemarch, but confessed she
found it so heavy she never finished it. She
might as well have-begun to like reading by
taking Bishop Snath's sermons. JHJdlemarch
and all George Eliot's novels are thoughtful
books for persons cl advanced tasto and ripe
minds. It takes a fine order of mind and ex
perience to ba a good novel reader, one who
tasiea wiia ajscreuon ana savors wnat ne
tastes. People want something whioh appeals
to their own sympathies, and their own run of
ideas. I always tell women unused to reading
to begin with Mrs. Gaskill's Cranford," that
humorous sympathetic little story of women's
lives in a quiet Edfcllsh village. Tbey are
preiiy sure 10 reiisa we story 01 tne tea clnnk-
ln
nrs. so intensely rented, and of the niuav who
swanowea me 01a point iace soaung in milk to
whiten ft, and who bad to take an emetic In
consequence, and of the cow that fell in a lime
pit and lost her hair and went about in a blue
flannel snit her mistress made her, and all the
droll pathetic happenings so deftly told by a
line authon Then Miss Woolson's -Castle
Nowhere" is a most poetic and picturesque
collection of stories, revealing the un
suspected interest of our own interior
country and characters. That and Miss
Phelps1 "Sealed Orders," with its authentic
histories of our Eastern coast, are books I
want to read over every summer. "Vlllette,"
by Charlotte Bronte, is the best depiction of
feminine character in fiction, which in this
case is founded on fact, and the fiction is so
finely wrought, I never knew anyone fail to be
interested by it. "On a Cast" is one of tbe
very best later American stories, light; lifelike
and so brilliant as to obliee one to read with
.".. , .. 1 . 1 . . . 1 "..:
attention whether he will or not, Mrs. Oli
Bhant's "Llttla Pilirrim" and "Stories nt tha
Beyond" are , sure to thrill and enchant ever
reader not cut from nether millstone, and she
alone brings some of the blissfulness of para
dise within our verge of feeling. All that
Rose Terry Cooke has written and all Mary
Wilkins' stories should go into tbe list and
Mrs. Lynn Lynton's novels, tbe most forcible
and tine drawn of any woman's work
to-day, rich with exquisite, keen philosophiz
ing, on topics which most interest women.
Ilerr is a list fit to interest a girl or a philoso
pher, as nearly perfect in literary merit as any
fiction to be named, and so lively that the most
unlettered hearer could be fascinated by them,
and if a season of such reading does not de
velop a taste lor something more advanced, it
will not be the fault of these writers.
It is worth the annoyance of many stupid let
ters to receive one like that which follows, and
be able to help the frank girl's trouble. Sav
ing in all confidence that she is owner of a good
complexion and is called pretty, she goes on:
"But there is one thing that will ruin my life If
it keeps on, and it is just this: When I go out
in tbe summer my face gets as red as a beet.
Erenln winter it is sometimes tbe same way,
but in the summer it is terrible. It just seems
as if every droD of blood in my bod v roes into
my face. It does not come from overeating, for
I am a very light eater. I have a beau, and he
asked me to go on an excursion lately, but I re
fused for this reason, but I did not tell him so.
I am not 19 and father and mother both like
him. I have plenty of friends and good clothes
and play the planabut these things are nothing
tome. I am utterly miserable. If you can give
anything that will cure me I will never forget
you ." A man might well bo prond of
mo lavor 01 a eiri nag can wroe sucn a sweet,
frank, honest letter. She must forgive me if I
give tbe world to read lines it will bo tbe better
for a posy of sweet brier and sweet peas, with
the dew on- them. I wish all heart
troubles were as easy to cure. Tbe deter
mination of blood to tbe head in snch cases
comes from too sedentary a life and
is remedied by dally baths and rubbing all
over, adosa of purgative medicine, say a des
sert spoonful of Epsom salts, followed by a
seidlitz powder before breakfast for a week,
with Graham bread, berries and cracked
wheat for at least two meals a day. .Beside
this, one should spend as much as possible of
every day in tbe open air, sewing, reading,
lounging out of doors on porch or lawn. Even
in tbe city, sitting on a, balcony or by an open
window is better tban heme indoors. This Tet
ter is written on a back porch in a New York
street, whiclCafforda a glimpse of red gerani
ums, a tree hung with fine new caterpillar
tents, and a waft of fresh Jersey air from
across tho river, which shows how much of
natural sights and freshness are attainable be
tween city walls. "Marlon" ougbt to know
that nnllme snnerflaons hair out bv tweezers
increases its growth. Better cut'the hair close
to the roots with sharp scissors, then pull it
out. The remedy for superfluous hair & a se
cret. Powdered magnesia or very fine chalk
are good for oily sVIns, as the alkaline powuer
neutralizes the oil, and as the ducts are
choked with over secretion of fat. the
powder can do no harm by closing tbe pores
for tha few hours in society, during ublch
powder is worn. The face should be carefully
washed with soap before and after using pow
der. There is a fine preparation of fullers
earth sold by a London chemist which is good
for greasy skins, and strong camphor is the
best thing forrenning the large pores of tha
noso and chin. Washine Titian colored hal.
in weak ammonia dilution, a tablcspoonful t0
icree quarts ol watec ana drying 11 in cue sun
lightens tbe color.
The questions on toilet asked, coarse bread
and taraxacum treatment have all been an
swered in previous numbers of these articles,
to which querists are referred. Hereafter,
letters addressed-to Mr., Mrs., Miss. Madam or
Br. Shirley Dare will stand a good chance of not
being answered at 'all. Why cannot people
learn that tbe only way to address a writer is
Impersonally,
My only addre:
msmo or outside oc a letter.
a for readers is
Sbzbxxt Dabz.
Tbey Had 3Iet Before.
Burllnzton Tree Press.i
Miss Sweetlip Algy, dear, I have got a
distressing piece of news for you. Pa has
gone and bought a large dog.
Algernon Tightfit Where did he get
him?
MissSweetlip Of Mr. Brown.
Algernon Tightfit Oh, I'm not afraid.
(Sotto voice I made friends with that dog
when I was courting Amanda Brown i)
A Bundle of Nerves.
This term is often applied to people whose
nerves are abnqjrmally sensitive. They should
strengthen them with Hostetter's Stomach
Itinera. Aftef a course of that benlen tonic,
they will cease ta be conscious that they hare
nervous sysiesas,Vexcept through agreeable
sensations. Ir-wiH enable them te'eat, sleep
and digest well, te three media fer increasing
tone and rIg8oi7'fee 'nerves, la aowmonwith
m reason saefysnemv. xne
nowenoy Mima a;
apMR '$ff H
EMMM worry be-
rf"IlWM4Hr,-aw. U-
jzem&'
THE MRESIDE SPHINX
A Ciectfon of MmM Huts fir
Hois CracMig.
Addreu communication! for tMt Oepartmmt
fc E. B. Chadboubn. Lewiiton, Maine.
644 AN OLD FBOVEBB ILLUSTRATED.
Copyright 1&9 by E.K. Cbadbourn.1
mr
He marched off to the war, the Ceres t.eto
surprise.
But he came very near being slain.
For two bullets made holes In the place of his
eves.
And a big bomb-shell blew out his brain.
Pass on, gentle reader, and shed not a tear.
Let the sad sigh of grief be repressed;
But tell me: What proverb (sometimes deemed
austere)
Does his napless condition suggest?
E. W-Habbts,
645 teddy's ?OUETH.
Our four-year-old Ted was so anxious
For tha Fourth of July to bo ',
He really grew quite impatient
That it came only once in a
He began to prepare for it long
Ere anyone else back in
We'd laugh as he'd'4sk every day,
"Say, Mammal won't it be here t
His pin-wheels and rockets were ready.
The fire-crackers in bnnches ;
His nickels and cents he'd been saving
For this purpose for months, the dear ,
Remembered a little from last year
His brothers bad told him the ;
He expected this year to enjoy it,
So he had prepared with a .
At last we grew tired of his asking;
I thought Iwould tell him once .
I took the painted calendar cards
And told him when it came to .
Just five days from then, it would be here;
He watched the cards lift ud and
I thought that be now understood it
And said, "Now he's on the right
I was roused tha next morn with a bang;
And sorang up with "What is the V
Then I opened my window at once
And there saw the cause of the n.
Ted's fire-crackers lay in a smoking heap.
The matches were still in bis
He looked np at me and shouted, "O. ma!
It's the Fourth of July, ain't it !
When told of his mistake he pointed up
To tbe calendar on the ;
"There's four on top, so what Is wrong?"
He had torn off the cards that was
Weil I he found what a blnnder he'd made
The Fourth cannot be hurried
He'll his rockets and firecrackers save
And wait till it comes, the next .
EVANGEXnTB.
676 BOTASICAIi ENIGMA.
The whole of 117 letters is a stanza addressed
to flowers.
38, 24. 109, 3L . 8, 8L 117, 39. 2. 18, 8, 18, is
now the most popular lata autumn blooming
perennials.
60, 33. 27, 42. 79, M. 4, 38. 86, 9, 62, orlonicera,
is a twlnlne ubrub. also called woodbine.
67, 89. 63,6,38.112,85.32,18,85, 18, Is
specie of gnaphalium, tbe most beautiful of the
everlastings.
10, 9, 4, 78, 2a 19. 7. 105. 9, 2, or cornflower.
Is a. specie of centaarea, of tha composite
family.
47. a, 94, S3. 17, 12. 66, 75, 70, 41, or oxalis, a
genus Of tho geranium family.
35, 88, 34. 81. 108, 36. 101, 61. 118, 77, is a twin
ins vine and genus of acanthus.
23. 30, 55, 99. 48. It 22, 68, 48. is a species of
taraxacum, producing yellow flowers from
spring to antnmn.
38.80.115,82,92,25.52,64,106,1s a species of
iberis. a genus of tbe mustardamlly.
i, zo, ta, 102, ti, a, is, vi, oroerDeris,isasnruo
with yellow flowers in racemes.
63. 43, 69. 114. 111. 69-5. 36. 91, is a species of
monarda. a genus of the mint family.
23. 103, 60, 4a 65. 22, 100, 18. 13, or pelargoni
ums, are shrubby plants of house and summer
garden culture.
16, 110, 49. 63. U, 42, 87, 15. 2, is parasitic on tha
branches of trees, and much used for Christmas
decoration.
64.37,68.7,97,74,110,9, or narcissus, produc
ing double vellow flowers in early spring. -
82, 99, 29, 69, 107, 45, 96, or cornel, is a small tree
flowerlnc in late spring.
71, 6. 65. It, 2, 113, is the principal genus of the
orderviola; also the name of a color.
23. 84. 115. 104, 98, or bellis, is a genus of the
composite family. -Maggie M'Leah.
647 ANAGEAM.
Tha study of far eastern tongues
Engages many minds.
And eastern lands, and eastern art
Man interesting finds.
You'll find it profitable, too.
These eastern lands to scan:
Their ancient lore to understand,
"O learn tt" If you can.
Nemo.
618 A STEASOE TKAHOTOBaiATirar.
I saw a man walk down tba street.
He looked to be quite happy and gay:
At once, from out nis heart there jumped
A rodent, which scampered away.
Of course he fell: I went to him.
And quickly turned his head around.
Then placed it by his other part.
And was surprised that a State I had found.
Fhase.
649 HOTJB GLASS.
1. Great abundance. 2 Profund. 3. Per
taming to or derived from oblc acid. 4. A. bond.
5. Before. 6. A letter. 7. Keen resentment. 8.
Splendor. 9. A scholar, la Assiduous. 11.
Discountenanced.
Diagonals Ltft to right down. Author
ized b v an example of a like kind. Ltft to right
up. Disagreements. CmrrBALS. Up. Cov
ered trenches, below tbe surface of the ground,
with joints, interstices or openings, through
which the water may percolate from tbe soil
or ground above. Cax, Arf do.
650 THE MEANEST BTSD.
Among the birds that pipe or thrill
In erassy vale or wooded hill,
Tbere lives not one upon the wing
So poor a fowl, so mean a thing.
As one that lives in town. 4
The owlsmayhoot. tbenighthawks screech,
The whip-poor-will may ape our speech,
The crow may scream his scornful caw.
But none are like this human daw;
Which should bo hooted down.
He dons a gaudy coat and vest
And thinks himself quite finely dressed.
To show himself from door to door.
Who mostly be is deemed to bore.
And greeted with a frown.
You cannot oust him out of sight
He will pop in, as old friends might.
O, tell him go, and till tbe soil.
As does an honored son of toll, .
Or honest country down. 8XA, -
XSSYTEBS.
635 The letter E P-Mate, p-i-rate, p-I-Iot
wra t-tb.
636 L Snow-flakes. Z Shoe-nails. 3. A
camp. 4. Pirate, Irate. 5. The letter A A.
Police. 7. The letter X 8L L-ink. 9. Nose,
la Eyes. U. Mls(s)-count. 12. Palm.
637 Rock-rent. ,
6381. Pronunclamento. 2. Obtumescence.
638
B
B If
B- TJ T
B V T, T
BUTTE
BUTTER
BUTTERY
640 Summer is here. 2. The enigma is
acrostic,
641 Unite, nntle.
f
642 H-allowed, allowed, all owed. O wed,
luncu. X2. lu, nai, jijiu, HUM, juujavr, au,
648 Poverty.
if. Soplnard, the great French asifcrep
pologlst, has been led by the shape of tfe let
bones of the "men ot Spj'jto the couclnslo fc
that these remote ancestors of tha Tinman nee
had their lower extremities half beat ts tkaeAi
aatbrepeM apes at tetafetttreeaA jsrk
Ld
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v
iaTssui
EI3PMBggWglMBIIB
?.k
mmmzd; .