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THE PiTTSBtTKGP DISPATOH."SXJHDAY,&r OCTOBER ' 27," '"1889.
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- the direction of her withes. About a mile
lrom his home lived a Norwegian farmer
named Paul Gretna, who had a daughter
named Ingerid. She was about Gunner's
age, or perhaps a year younger, and had a
' reputation for beauty. She was a soft,
dimpled little creature, with affectionate,
blue eyes, a fresh infantine face and a rosy
complexion. It was difficult to tell from
. that face what manner of woman she might
grow to be; but it was fair to infer that she
would make a comfortable wife and a good
mother. She was a blonde and attractive
personification ol her sex; and that is, after
all, what most men want their wives to be.
A too distinct individuality is often an
element of disturoance.
Gunnar was. indeed, not the only one who
had discovered Ingerid's attractiveness.
His old friend and antagonist, Thorsten
Sletten, with whom he had lought at the
prayer meeting, was a frequent visitor at
the Gretna farm, as were also half a dozen
other lads, who made no attempt to dis
pute their admiration for the daughter of
the house.
This was the condition or things at the
time, when the farmer, Lars Kandkleven,
invited his neighbors to celebrate his wed
ding with Karen Holtsrud. It was a large
wedding and both Gunnar and his mother
and Ingerid and her parents received invita
tions. The pastor married the couple in the
church at noon, and about 40 vehicles -of all
sorts accompanied them to the bridal house.
All the picturesque costumes which in Kor
way make such an occasion memorable, had
been dropped; bnt a master of ceremonies
there whs, mho welcomed the bride and
groom and proposed their health at the feast
that followed. Beer flowed abnndantly at
the table, and whisky was poured lrom
pocket flasks which were p. ssed about from
hand to hand with a mock pretense of
secrecy. The pastor, wno sat next to tne
bride "at the head of the table, was so
deeply absorbed in the eatables, to which he
did full justice, that he affected not
to see the dangerous bottles that circulated
under his very nose. As it happened
Gunnar Jound himself next to a city-clad
stranger, in black broadcloth, resplendent
with a gold watch (which he frequently
consulted), and rings and watch chain o'f
the same metal. This man turned out to be
a near relative of the gmom, and a prosper
ous grocer in Chicago. His name was Hans
Larscn, but in order to propitiate the native
car lie had changed it to John Lawson.
And what was more, he wore a mustache,
viith a smart twist at the ends, and a shiny
fcilk hat. His square face showed the Norse
peasant type plainly enough, but the ex
pression had been sharpened, showing a
shrewdness and wide-awake enterprise
a Inch are rarely found in the original.
"What is your name, if I may ask?" in
quired this dazzling individual, addressing
hinxelf to Gunnar.
"'Gunnar Matson."
"Whose son are you?'"
"I am the son of Hans Matson; but he's
deaa long ajro."
Minns .ilalson v hat rear did he come
to the United States?"
"In 1SC4. 1 think."
"Exactly. I knew him. He came in the
Cunardtr Siberia."
"I think he did. Mother has mentioned
the name of that ship."
"And he is dead, vou sav?"
"Yes."
"When did he die?"
"About 18G7 or 18G8."
"I beg your pardon; but there you are
wrong; for I am pretty "sure I met him in
Chicago in 1S7L"
Gunnar gave a start which came near up
setting his chair. He stared at Lawson with
a perplexed incredulous gaze.
"Are are you sure of it?" he managed at
last to stammer.
"Cock sure; though I own he was much
changed. His name now what was his
name? Blasted if I haven't forgotten it"
"I wish you'd try to remember," the
young man urged tremulously. Lawson ate
on with a puzzled frown on his face, as if he
was trying hard to recall the name.
Gunnar, his eyes dilated with eagerness,
dropped his kni'ie and fork and glanced
anxiously at his mother, who was conduct
ing a sober conversation on the prospects of
the crops with a neighboring farmer.
"I'll be parboiled if I can get hold of that
name," ejaculated the grocer, in pretended
vexation; "it was rather a queer name.
Probably it will occur to me one of these
days and then I'll let vou know."
IV.
When the feasting was at an end, and a
proper interval had been allowed for di
gestion, the fiddlers tuned up their instru
ments and the dance commenced. Thegirls,
in fresh calico and muslin dresses, stood
squeezed together in the hall, giggling and
whispering. Somebody among them was
awfully witty, and made sarcastic observa
tions on the men, which made the rest nearly
explode with laughter. The young lads
hung about the outskirts of the crowd,
advanced and again retired, with a sheep
ish air, as their courage failed them. The
teasing encouragement of their friends and
rivals, no less than the suppressed merri
ment of the girls made them shrink from
the decisive step.
This was the situation when Gunnar and
John Lawson came sauntering through the
hall, in earnest conversation. The grocers,
seeing the girls, suddenly lost his interert
in Hans Matson's disappearance, and with
a jaunty air strolled up to the blushing
throng.
"My, my, how pretty we are," he ex
claimed with an exaggerated mock admira
tion, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling,
and making absurd grimaces; "I 'wonder
who is the prettiest of you; for I mean to
have the prettiest or none."
He gently pnshed himself into the midst of
the crowd, while the girls drew back about
him, laushing at his delightful wit. Some
pushed bacc, and thnx it happened that In
gerid Gretna was thrust right into Lawson's
arms, which promptly closed about her
waist. She was seriously annoyed, and
tueged and pulled to get herself free.
'Gently, gently, my beauty, said Law
son, "I won't bite you, my dear. You need
not be afraid ol John Lawson."
But she was a:raid, all the same, and cast
imploring dances at Gunnar, who stood by,
looking at the scene without thought of in
ter ering.
"I wish you would let mc go, Mr. Law
ton," begged the girl, with a flushed, excited
face, "I do wish you'd let me go."
There was a petulant annoyance in her
voice jwnicn lawson interpreted as mere
mock modesty, and even when the tears
started to her eyes he could not persuade
himself that she was in earnest.
"Why, 1 do really believe we are crying,"
he said in surprise. "Well, well;-you won't
even dance with me?"
"I am engaged to dance the first dance
with Gunnar Matson," cried Ingerid, re
torting to a bold fiction in her anxiety to
escape from the odious fellow's arms.
Gunnar, starting up as trom a dream at
the sound of his name, stood for an instant
irresolute, but as soon as he took in the sit
uation, stepped forward and released the
girl.
"You must excuse me, Mr. Lawson," he
said, without the least excitement, "but,
since this is my dance, yoa'll have lobe
content with the next"
He had no desire at all to dance; but, of
, course, when a girl appealed to him iu
distress, he could not consult his own incli
nation. Lawson, who was not at all a bad
fellow, gave an awkward laugh and grabbed
hold of the next girl in the crowd, who
proved to be less skittish. The ice was now
broken, and the.otherlads, overcoming their
bashtulness, started forward with one ac
cord, and swung a dozen more girls out upon
the floor.
Gunnar, when he had once begun to move
to the rhythm of the music, felt a kind of
intoxication in his blood, and he danced
with a vehemence which must have taxed
his partner's strength. There was a battle
raging within him. This sweet, blonde,
trustiul girl, whom he held ia his arms, who
, responded so radiantlv to every glance he
sent her; she was his Norse nasf nni h
.Norse future, too; small aims and endeavors, J
an uyjuc resiuauun ana contentment in
emall things, & narrow concentration of in--tere'st
upon food, clothes and petty econ
omies, relieved by a little theological
wjijuabbling about the pure Lutheran faith.
Even though such a life was all for which
he had a right to aspire, would it ever sat
isfy him? The flashy grocer, Lawson, ap
peared to Gunnar the very incarnation of
success, and his jaunty bearing represented
an unattainable ideal of manners. Why
should not he, too, enter the race, and
though he might not reach such an
eminence as that of Lawson, why should he
not content himself with a smaller measure
of success? The parson said, he would
imperii his soul's salvation. Well, his
pure Lutheran could not he worth much if,
in order to keep it undiluted, he had to se
clude himself from all the rest of the world
and avoid contact with those v who believed
otherwise than he. He had hitherto ac
cepted the parson's reasoning, or rather he
had never thought of doubting its sound
ness. But now a question arose: was it not
his duty to start out in the world and find
his lather, or at all events ascertain whether
he was alive or dead?
All these thoughts kept whirling con
fusedly in Gunnar's brain, while he danced,
and when finally the music ceased, he con
ducted his fair partner out into the yard in
order that the breeze might cool heron;
She noticed his seriousness, and thinking he
disapproved of the little fib by which she
had gotten rid of Lawson, she began to pon
der a little speech, Intended to put her mis
demeanor in the most favorable light
"I hope you are not angry with me," she
said, looking up into his iace with a smile,
intent upon mollification.
"Oh, no; why should I?" he answered
half absently.
"Because because I wanted to get rid
of that citytellow," begging forgiveness
with her large innocent eyes.
"Oh, don't bother about that," he ejacu
lated ungraciously.
"I can't help bothering about it, that is,
unless you'll be nice and sneak to me as
you used to."
Gunnar gave a laugh and looked down
at Ingerid's dimpled face with amused ten
derness. "How did I use to speak to you?" he
asked smiling.
"Oh, now you are making fun of me,"
she replied in sweet confusion; "It isn't
nice of you to make fun of me, Gunnar."
There were others, evidently who were of
the same opinion, though they had no defin
ite data to argue from. On the "Woodpile
in the yard sat Thorsten Sletten and five or
six of his chums, all incensed at the open
favor Ingerid showed Gunnar Matson, and
determined on the first occasion to bring
down his conceit a peg or two. Gunnar
was instinctively aware of their sentiments
towardhim, as he approached the woodpile,
and seized the first opportunity to turn
about when he could do so with self-respect
But no sooner had he turned his back to the
company than a shower of chips, pieces of
bark and other light missiles hit him about
the head and shoulders. He was inclined to
take no notice of this challenge; but Ingerid,
being less wise faced about again and said:
"I wish you wouldn't do that, lads."
A derisive ieer greeted this mild rennpst
The cirl stood for a moment irresolute,
blushing with vexation.
"I guess you'll be sorry for it some day,"
she murmured, and reioined her comnaninn.
Her implied championship of Gunnar did
not tend to mollify his antagonists. He had
scarcely walked two steps at her side, when
a large piece of wood knocked his hat off,
and raised a bump on the side of his head.
"With the pain his anger flared up. He
darted back to the woodpile, grabbed Thors
ten Sletten, whom he suspected of being his
assailant, by the leg and dragged him down.
One of the stakes which confined the logs
broke, and the whole pile tumbled down
pell mell with the young men on the top of
it Some of them got painful bumps and
scratches which did not improve their tem
per. One by one, as soon as he got upon his
legs, malied at Gunnar with clenched fists;
and the latter, finding himself at
tacked on all sides, struck right
and left, little heeding whom or
where he hit It was a most unfair battle
six against one. Ingerid's blood boiled as
she saw her companion surrounded, beaten
and pommeled by those envious fellows,
only because she had favored him. He
fought for awhile manfully returning blow
for blow, and neither asking nor receiving
quarter. But he was gradually getting the
worst of it; she saw his flushed face above
the knot of combatants, every muscle
strained, his teeth clenched in savage wrath
ana a nasn in nis eye 01 desperate resolu
tion. Then suddenly down he went tripped
up by some tricky foot, and the others fell
upon him like raging hounds. The light
died out of Ingerid's face, leaving it pale
and terrified: for an instant she stood speech
less; then, borne along by a mighty impulse,
she rushed into the midst of the fighters,
grabbed the first one she got hold of by the
shoulders and flung him aside. It was
Thorsten Sletten.
"Oh, shame on you!" she cried.
Thorston sent her a surly, sidelong glance
and walked off, trying to hide his resent
ment and mortification under an air of
bravado. In another moment she had got
ten hold of another offender, who likewise
slnnk off with muttered curses; and the
others unwilling to fight "a girl, got up
hastily and took to their heels. Last of all
Gnnnar rose, with slow and deliberate mo
tions and turned toward her a red, swollen
face, with white blotches and a streak of
blood on his left cheek. He looked at her
with a half shy awkward glance; at which
all her sense of championship forsook her,
and she felt a strange weakness in her knees.
The crimson flush flared out upon her
cheeks, and she fonnd it impossible to utter
a word. Had she not been foolish in al
lowing her heart to run away with her? She
had put him in a humiliating position,
and thought she would have liked to beg
his pardon, she did not know how to frame
the difficult words. And yet she had
meant well. It was horribly per
plexing. But why did he not
speak? He ought to have had the gen
erosity to say something, if only to relieve
her awkwardness. She watched him with a
dim sense of guilt, through which a slow re
sentment glowed, while he wiped his bloody
cheek with the sleeve of his coat, and pulled
himself together to recover his wonted atti
tude. "When he had as nearly as possible
effaced all traces of the combat, he looked
about to see if f hey were observed. Ingerid'a
heart leaped into her throat He was now
surely going to thank her.
' "I suppose you meant all right," he said,
in a resentful tone; "but another time I wish
you wouldn't do it"
"But they were killing you, Gunnar," she
cried in eager self-justification
"Well, next time let them kill me," he
answered doggedly.
"Oh, how can you?" Bhe moaned, -too
deeply wounded for tears. "I wish I wish
I had never seen you."
She felt weak and sore. Herheart seemed
heavy as lead. The sunlight had a hard
brightness which hnrt her eyes. The world
had lost its glory.
To relate how Gunnar accomplished the
difficult task to get away from home would
require a long chapter. He wrung a re
luctant consent from his mother, after end
less persuasion, by holding th'e promise that
he would bring his father back to,her. The
hope he had kindled in her heart flared up
at times with a bright flame, and then died
out again with a pathetic flicker. The
mere possibility, however, that Hans might
be alive imparted a new restlessness to her
thought, and kept her, waking and sleep
ing, in a state of subdued agitation. She
discovered with surprise how deep her at
tachment to him was, and how imposible it
was to sail her wonted course ofpractical
Toutmc, now that this new t beacon of hope
had shed its light upon a wholly unsuspect
ed region within her. A hot moisture olten
rose to her eyes at the sudden thought of
seeing Hans Matson again, 'after so many
years of separation. All his aberrations
were forgotten and forgiven, and the hard
words they had spoken to each other, when
opinions clashed, were as if wiped out from
her memory. Curiously enough, the idea
never occurred to her that he had perhaps
consciously deserted her. She found no
end of ingenious excuses for him; feeling
confident that whatever he had done he had
been guided by noble motives. There were
actually moments when her affection for her
son, which had hitherto been the' dominant
sentiment of her life, paled before the
passionate yearning for her lost and erring
husband.
And so it came to pass that Gunnar
found himself one day ,oa the road to the
nearest railroad station, tingling in every
nerve with a sense of adventure. He ar
rived on the following day without accident
in Chicago, and was utterly dewildered by
the grandeur and the noisy turmoil of the
great metropolis of the "West The smoke
oppressed his lungs. The shriek of loco
motives on the lake front made him blind
and deaf, and the underground buzzing and
humming of the cable cars gave him a head
ache. How could he hope to track his
father in such a Babel of tumultuous con
fusion? His first task, however, must be to
find himself a hoarding place which might
be used as a base of operations in his ex
plorations. In the Scandinavian quarter of
the city, called Vicker Park, he stumbled
.upon a kindly policeman, whose face re
vealed his Norse blood, and to him Gunnar
confided his perplexities, and was directed
to a cheap and respectable house kept by
the widow of a Norwegian apothecary. The
floor of the hall was covered with oilcloth
and an odor of cooking was perceptible as
soon as the front door was opened; but Gun
nar was not fastidious, and, moreover, the
kindly grace of the landlady, Mrs. Tonne
son, would have reconciled 'him to worse in
conveniences than culinary odors. At the
dinner table he was introduced to about 20
people, mostly clerks in stores, and
recent .arrivals from Norway, all
of whom scanned his rustic attire
with supercilious mien. There was particu
larly a young lady, the daughter of Mrs.
Tonneson, who made him uncomfortable 'by
the critical and half amused expression with
which she regarded him. His ears burned
and his face glowed with the consciousness
that she found him queer, but he was not
angry with her only desperately deter
mined to learn the ways of the world, and,
if possible, to make her his teacher. She
appeared dazzlingly boautiful'to the guile
less young lellow. iter straw-colored hair,
with a lot of frizzy curls hanging down over
her forehead, impressed him particularly.
Her features were small and fine, but there
was a consciousness of the admiration she
excited in the way she carried her attractive,
blonde head. Perhaps there was even a
touch of petulance in her motions like that
of a spoiled child, who knows that every
thing it does is becoming. But Gunnar was
not discerning enough to detect something
a trifle stagey in this assumed youthfulness,
nor did he observe the languishing look that
stole into her eyes at odd moments, alternat
ing with a look of dreary fatigue. She wore
a long thin gold chain about her neck, to
which a watcb was attached, stuck, in Norse
fashion, into the belt that encircled her
waist Many an admiring glance was
stealthily sent toward her by the younger
clerks, whom she studiously ignored. But
shs flirted with hysterical liveliness with a
middle-aged student recently arrived from
Norway, whose deep beer base and jaunty
manners had evidently nade an impression
upon her.
The next day he went in search of his
friend John Lawson, whom he found in a
dingy grocery shop on Milwaukee avenue,
looking far less dazzling than on the occa
sion of their last meeting. Me communi
cated to him his purpose to seek his father,
and asked Lawson it he could now recall
the name by which he was known. The
grocer, seating himself on a barrel of flour,
fell into a brown study.
"What'll you give me?" he asked, sud
denly lifting his head, "if I put you on
your dad's track?"
"Give youl" repeated Gunnar, feeling
rather crestfallen, "I don't know that I have
anything to give you."
"Well, you must be smart enough to know
that Hans Matson will scarcely thank me
for putting the old woman on the scent of
him."
"Do you mean to say," exclaimed Gun
nar, wrathfully, "that my father is a scoun
drel?" "Hush, hush, young man; not so fast I
said nothing of the sort.''
Gunnar was in sore perplexity. A host
of new ideas rushed in upon him. If his
father was living under an assumed name
it was quite obvious that he did not wish
his family to find him. It was odd that
that view of the case had not presented
itself to him and his mother his poor
mother who supposed that shame, poverty
ormisiortuue Kept mm irom returning to
her) "Well, come what might, he was re
solved to sound the mystery to the bottom.
"Then you won't help me?" he said to
Lawson, who was yet sitting on the flour
barrel, trimming his nails with a pocket
knife.
"That depends upon what you'll give,"
answered Lawson, intent upon his task.
"I have nothing to give. I have-scarcely
enough to get along, until I get something
to do."
"Will you give me your note of hand for
$500, payable in five years, for value re
ceived, if the clew I furnish you is correct,
the note to be canceled if my clew is not
correct?"
"But suppose I am not worth $500, in five
years?"
"I'll take my chances on that"
Gunnar pondered for some minutes, then
with a reckless fling of his head, held out
his hand and said:
"Well, since there is no other way, I sup
pose I shall have to agree to your terms."
Lawson rising stuck his 'knife into his
pocket and grasped his visitor's hand.
"Wait a minute," he said, "and I'll go
with you."
VL
The grocer reappeared presently m his
holiday attire of black broadcloth and with
the silk hat set askew upon his head. Hav
ing obtained the young man's note of hand
he took his arm, ushered him on board a
street car "and seated himself solemnly at his
side. They rode for 20 or 30 minutes up one
street and down another, through a bewilder
ing tnrmoil of traffic and stopped at last
before a huge, ugly brick block, across the
walls of which a succession of gilt letters
traced the inscription: "The Norman
Reaper and Mower Company.-" Through
the windows could be seen big -wheels re
volving and straps of leather belting flying
up and down, lengthwise and crosswise;
while tbe,glow from the mouths of the fur
naces showed black figures wiih leather
aprons moving to and, fro like cyclops in
subterranean smithies. There was a whirl
ing and a rattling and a hammering, rasp
ing of saws and clanking of metals, fit to
split one's ears. The w hole enormourouild
ing seemed to be trembling with an intense
white heat activity.
Gunnar and his companion paused for a
moment to contemplate the structure and
then entered an outer office on the second
floor, in a part of the building which was
separated trom the factory by a wide hall.
Lawson wrote his name on a slip of paper
and begged a doorkeeper to hand it to Mr.
Norman. The reply was soon returned that
if he could wait for half an hour, Mr. Nor
man would be at leisure.
Gunnar did not dare to ask the question
which was trlmbling on his lips: who was
this Mr. Norman? Surely not his father.
A rich and powerful man he must be, since
such a crreat lactorr was named after him
And yet who could tell? He feared Law
son would think him foolish if he ventured
to utter what was in his mind. At last,
when the half hour was at an end, and
three men had entered and left the smaller
room, partitioned off from the main office by
a wainxcoted wall ot ash, the doorkeeper
conducted the two expectant Norsemen into
the chiets presence. Gunnar found him
self face to face with a robust man of 45,
with a brown beard, sprinkled with gray,
and fine, energetic features. He was care
fully, almost fashionably dressed; but there
was in his bearing something angular, and
uncompromising, a kind of homespun.
blunt directness. His expression was, how-.
ever, a, irme worried, ami nis eyes were
restless. He looked like a strong man with
a bad conscience.
"I thought I'd drop in and see you," be
gan Lawson, uneasily.., v
"How much?" asked -Norman quickly;
"tell me how much you demand. You know
I have no time for fooling. Aud please give
me a respite now. I think I've earned it"
"How yon do go on." grumbled the
grocer. "I haven't- said a word about
money. I just brought you this young
man, who is looking for a job. You'd oblige
me if you could give him a position of some
kind in the office or the factory."
The manufacturer, bridling his impa
tience, fixed his eyes with a startled glance
upon Gunnar. The Norse type in the youth
was unmistakable, the frank blue eyes, half
appealing in their trnstfulness, the blonde
hair brushed back from the forehead with a
sort of rising wave, the short, strong, regu
lar teeth, and a certain amiable rusticity in
manner and bearing, Norman saw. perhaps
even more; but, knowing that his uneasy
conscience was apt to play him tricks, he
dismissed the memories which rose up be
fore him.
"What can the yonng man do?" he asked
in a matter-of-tact tone, turning to Lawson.
"Oh. I guess he can do almost any
thing." ' "That's the same as to say that he can do
nothing."
"I reckon that he can earn his board and
lodging, and that is about all he expects to
do, for the present."
"Very well, I'll find him a place. It is
a pity he doesn't understand English."
"You may well say so, and he was born
in the State of Minnesota."
"Gieat ScottI Don't I know the work of
those blasted parsons! A native of the
United States, 18 or 19 years old, who doesn't
understand the language of his country!
xou d nave to travel all over tne globe to
find another case like it Bnt those little
Lutheran popes, they know what they are
about For the moment their people learn
English and can assimilate American ideas
they are lost to the parson. They can no
longer be gnided and bullied and threat
ened with eternal damnation, if they think
a little for themselves, and indulge a little
heresy on the subject of the infallibility of
the Norwegian Lutheran Synod."
This was, as Lawson knew, a sore topic
with Norman. He was intensely American
in sentiment and railed against the Norwe
gian clergy for isolating their countrymen
lrom the national, life and discouraging
them from learning the English language.
"I'd pay that young fellow a good salary
if he had had a good English common
school education," he went on indignantly,
"but in order to keep his pure Lutheran
faith undiluted, he has been allowed to
grow up in ignorance in a parochial school,
led on the husks of doctrinal squabbles, and
studiously kept an alien, in the midst of
this rich and beautiful country, to be a
citizen of which ought to be a source of
pride to any man."
Lawson who had always tried to keep a
safe middle ground on this question, being
a Norseman among Norsemen and an Amer
ican among Americans, regarded it as im
prudent to commit himself and therefore
I only nodded an equivocal approval and
murmured:
"H'm, yes; that's a factl Shouldn't won
der." It was soon settled that Gnnnar was to be
employed in the factory at a salary of ?8 a
week, with the promise of advancement as
rapidly as his usefulness warranted. . He
had sat gazing silently at the big railroad
map which covered one wall of the office,
while Lawson and Norman settled his fate,be
ine unable to comprehend their language. Tt
was a relief to him.ro follow the thick red
lines across the continent; intersecting with
thinner red lines and black lines; for it en
abled him seemingly to divert his thought
from the all-absorbing consciousness which
glowed and labored within him, that this
was indeed his father. Indignation, on his
mother's account, was at first bis uppermost
tceling; but, on the other hand, it seemed
difficult to believe ill of a man with a face
like that of Mr. Norman. If he was a
scoundrel, as Gunnar was compelled to be
lieve that he was, he must have found it
terribly hard work. For nature had never
meant him to be a scoundrel. Yet, the
more he was to blame. The thought oc
curred to the young man, and had no sooner
occurred than it took complete possession of
his mind, that he would avenge upon this
heartless adventurer the sorrow and suffer
ing he had caused his poor, abandoned wife,
during all these " years. But to
do this, he must follow Nor
man's example. He must disguise
himself. "What form his vengeance was to
take, he could not decide on the spur of the
moment But he would unmask the im
postor; hold him up before the communitv
whose admiration he courted, as the black
hearted monster he was. And to this -end,
he would instantly set about learning En
glish. He would devote all his energies to
it, and accomplish it in the shortest possible
time.
He started palpably, while nursing this
passionate purpose, when Mr. Norman ad
dressed him; but understood presently fhat
he was to write his name in a book. His
transparent face bespoke the turmoil that
agitated his heart He began to divine
that Lawson, who was probably the only
one in possession of Mr. Norman's secret,
had made it as profitable to himself as pos
sible; and that now, when the manufacturer
was beginning to tire of his blackmail, he
was turning it to Iresh account in similar
transactions with the opposite side. All
these reflections flashed through his brain,
as he received the pen from Lawson's hand.
He stooped down over the ledger and wrote:
Finn Varsko,
Norman glanced cursorily at the signa
ture and closed the book.
"Finn "Varsko," he murmured, "that is a
curious name."
VIL
Two years passed rapidly and Gunnar be
came proficient in English. He took a
lesson of one hour every evening from his
landlady's daughter, the charming Mathilda,
who, when the student with the beer base
had taken French leave (neglecting to set
tle his board bill), pitied the solitary young
man from the backwoods, and taught him
a variety of things beside English grammar.
She was a curious mixture, this fascinating
Mathilda; and Gnnnar. though not lacking
in common sense, found himself unable to
judge her. Two attributes, however, he
learned to distinguish in her. He took her
to be adorably simple and kind hearted, and
full of good impulses; but he could not deny
that she was an ontrageous flirt He im
agined, too, that she put up with him some
times, because she pitied his loneliness; and
at other times, for want of anybody more
desirable. "When you can't get tobacco to
smoke, they say in Norway, mbss is a fair
substitute. Anything ot the masculine
gender was fair game for Mathilda, and her
time hung heavily on her hands when no
masculine creatures were about
One would suppose that Gunnar, armed
with this knowledge, would have been proof
against her blandishments. But no knowl
edge is a protection against that kind of as
sault There was to him a delicious thrill
of danger in the situation, which to her was
entirely absent. She had seen more of the
world than he, and sometimes, in order to
tease him, gave him grandmotherly advice.
She wormed his innocent secrets out of him,
and obtained finally a confession of all his
misdeeds. He felt so desperately wicked in
having won the love of Ingerid, and then
spurned it, that it was a great relief to him
to be able to call himself hard names in the
presence of a sympathetic listener. He djd
not fail to perceive that Mathilda, while
condemning his faithlessness, looked upon
him with a livelier interest alter this confi
dence, and he conld not help feeling darkly
heroic, in the midst of all his wickedness.
What a lovely character, he argued, this
gentle maiden must have, to forgive all his
past, and treat him with such kindness and
sweet consideration. "Why, know
ing how disinterested she was,
should he hold back from her his other
and far more important secret? He had re
peatedly hinted at it in her presence, and
though her curiosity had been vaguely
piqued, she had failed to rise" to the occa
sion. She treated his mysterious allusions
as if she only half believed them, and re
plied to his dark observations with an ab
sentminded vivacity which tried him sorely.
He felt at last that his self-respect compelled
him to reveal the plot of which he was both
victim aud author. He was irritated beyond
all endurance, and anticipated -with a mor
bid satisfaction the sensation he would
make when he should (explode his bomb.
But here he was again destined to disap
pointment The shrewd Mathilda betrayed
no great astonishment He saw by 'the
glance she gave him from under her long
lashes that she thonght he was romancinir.
hut was too considerate to tell him so. He
had then no choice but to produce his proof,
and when Mathilda finally had no choice
but to believe him he could nolongercharge
her with indifference.
She betrayed an alacrity and an indigna
tion on his behalf wbioh were extremely
flattering. He felt with gratified vanity
how immensely he had risen in her esteem.
Unsophisticated though he was, he ob
served that she dressed with more care for
their lessons and exerted all her arts to
please in a way" which formerly wonld never
have occurred to her. It was an intoxica
tion of bliss to sit at her side on her sofa,
-while her hair grazed his cheek, and her
hand sometimes by some vagrant impulse
stole into his, and her dark blue eyes sud
denly flashed upon him a glance full of ten
der meaning. She could put on a look
of such appealing innocence that Gunnar
had to exert all his self-restraint to keep
himself within bounds. A wild desire
seized him more than once to clasp her in
his arms and cover her face with hisses; but
at such moments his fancy wonld conjure up
the sweet face of Ingerid with tearful eyes
and lips quivering in infantine distress, an,d
the sense of his own bareness would over
whelm him and sober his passion.
Gunnar saw Mr. Norman almost daily
during these two years. He had an idea that
his chief watched him, and during his con
stant unannounced ronnds through the fac
tory paid special attention to his work. He
saw him frequently speak to the foreman of
his division; and twice, after these confer
ences, Gnnnar was promoted and his pay in
creased. When Mr. Norman addressed him,
as he occasionally did, it was usually to ask
him how he was getting on with his En
glish. One day when the bell was rung and
all other hands were hurrving away, 3un-
nar was so engrossed in a delicate piece of
work which had been entrnsted to him that
he could not tear himself away. Suddenly,
as he looked up, he saw the chief standing
with his hands on his back, gazing at him.
As Gunnar paused Mr. Norman took up the
piece of metal at which he had been filing
and examined it critically. "Look here,
Finn Varsko," he said, "you are not a bad
workman."
Gunnar blushed with pleasure. He had
never heard Mr. Norman praise anyone b'e
fore. "Have you any brothers?" asked the
chief, after a while, as he laid down the
metal.
"No, I have neither brothers nor sisters."
"And your parents; are they 3ead?"
"My mother is alive; but my father "
"Is dead. Yes, I supposed so. And you
had to go out into the world to earn your
living. I suppose you send part of your
earnings to your mother?"
"Yes, as much as I can spare."
"That's right. I am glad you are a good
son; that is what I like to hear."
About a week alter this conversation, Mr.
Norman again paused in front of Gunnar's
bench, "How much do you pay for your
board?" he asked.
"Five dollars a week."
"I live alone."
"If you will take a room in my house,
you may pay for it by extra work, which I
will give you; mostly copying and me
chanical drawing. Yoa'll then be able to
send $5 more every week to your mother."
"But do yon think, sir. that I'll be able
to do that kind of work?"
"Leave that to me. I know what I am
about."
"But, sir, I don't think I can accept it"
"Well, do as you like. You may give me
youranswer to-morrow."
When he got home that night Gunnar
expected to be praised for his self-denial
in refusing the rich man's invitation, for he
hoped Mathilda would divine that it was
ont of regard for her that he had foregone
so great an advantage. But to his surprise
the young lady called him a dunce, and told
him almost in so many words that in look
ing out for his own interest he also served
hers. She felt apparently so sure of him
that she was more than willing to run the
risk ofteparation. It was of herself she
was in doubt, but this doubt he could easily
dispel by a great stroke of business like the
one which he bad. .confided to her. Br
getting Mr. Norman in his power (of
which he had a far better chance when
living in his house) he could make his
everlasting fortune; and she hoped sincerely
he would show that he bad the grit of a
man, and would allow no foolish molli-
coddle sentiment to interfere with his plan.
When he had ascertained beyond the
shadow of doubt that Mr. Norman was the
same as Hans Mattson, then was his
opportunity. He must then threaten dis
closure and make the best terms possible
for pledging himself to silence.
Be it said to the credit of our hero, that
he rebelled against this project It was jus
tice he wanted, -justice for his deluded, sor
rowing mother, Who had been cheated out
of her life's happiness by this man's duplic
ity and cruelty. To make money out of
such a transaction seemed to him sordid,
base, infamous. He dame near quarreling
outright with Mathilda, who, with all her
cleverness, was not clever enough to dis
cover that she had made a fatal mistake in
affording him so deep a glimpse into her
hard and mercenary little heart She had
to resort to tears and caresses in order to ob
literate the impression, wherenpon she over
whelmed him with reproaches lor having
thought her capable of the very scheme
which she had a moment ago developed.
And he.poor fellow, kissed her and begged
her forgiveness for having misunderstood
her; and imagined that, very likely, Lis in
tellect was not sufficiently subtle to compre
hend the fine gradations ot meaning con
veyed in this exquisite creature's speech. He
was . so preposteronsly happy at the privi
leges she now granted him, that he could
not have found it ia his heart to blame her,
if she, had proposed to him a systematic
transgression of the Ten Commandments,
beginning with the first and ending with
the tenth.
After this delightful reconciliation, Gun
nar accepted Mr. Norman's offer and in
stalled himself in two pleasant rooms over
looking Lake Michigan. And Mathilda,
who, perhaps, overestimated her hold upon
his affections, resolved to postpone the exe
cution of her plan until a more favorable
moment
VIII.
It required no greatingenuityon Gunnar's
part to discover Mr. Norman's object in
taking him into his house. Under the pre
tense of giving him work, he was really
giving him lessons in mechanical drawing
and construction of machines. The manu
facturer was a man of genius in his way,
self-taught, loving work and glorying in it.
He had a workshop at the top of his honse,
fitted out with exquisitely finished tools and
mechanical appliances of many kinds.
There he spent his happiest hours, experi
menting with his inventions and models for
improvements in machinery. He was im
patient of dullness and often irritable. But,
on the other hand, his wrath was short lived,
and he was anxious to heal by kindness the
wounds which his hard words sometimes in
flicted. "The worst thing about the world " ho
said to Gunnar one day, while they were
working side by side in their shirt sleeves. '
'! nnt t.n ! 3- T.-J 1 a "1 ta t- .' t
. uv mat it is UUU, UUt lb IS BlUpia. JLlOOK
at all those great, ttrong, fine Scandinavian
fellows who come over here every year by
the thousand." They are too stupid to see
the chances which this country offers to
every man with a sound, heart and a sound
brain. They allow themselves to be bur
dened with the same old yoke which they
bore at home; nay, they themselves invite
their taskmasters, the Lutheran parsons,
to come after them and put a ring through
their noses and lead them bv the
straight and narrow path of Lutheran
orthodoxy to an imaginary paradise, where,
after having worked all their lives for the
parsons they are to work no more. What
folly, what monstrous stupidity! Work no
more! As if work were a curse, instead of
being the greatest blessing that God has
given to man." '
Taciturn as his chief usually was, Gnnnar
prepared himself for an hour's discourse,
when he by chance stumbled upon the par
sons. -Unjust he was, no doubt, and one
sided, as persons of his temperament are apt
to be; but for all that Gunnar could not
help beinginfluenced by what he said, which,
with all its exaggeration, contained not a
little truth. Strive. as he might, he could
not. suppress, a sneaking kindness for the
, "- T -v.
man whom he persistently regarded as his
enemy. "What sort of heart muit a man
have to ignore the bonds of blood, desert
wife and child, and trouble himself no more
about the woman who loved him and grieved
for him, than.if she had never existed. Mr.
Norman's absorption in machinery and his
enthusiasm for the marvels of nature, filled
the young man at times with a savage wrath
which he could with difficulty repress. For
what were steel and iron compared to flesh
and blood; what were pitiless screws and!
levers compared to bleeding hearts and
weening eyes? It was not easy, indeed, to'
maintain in Mr. Norman's presence, this
hostile attitude. And had Gunnar had
sufficient insight to know what a possession,
what an imperions mania genius may be,
he would have pardoned his lather and
loved him instead of persuading himself that
he hated him.
He foresaw plainly that if he were to fill
his role as avenging angel, he must strike
quickly and blindly before his lurking af
fection should get the upper hand of him.
Torn with conflicting emotions he hurried to
Mrs. Tonneson's boarding house in Vicker
Park and took counsel with Mathilda. See
ing that she could not prevent the expose,
the shrewd damsel swiftly conceived a plan
by which she might shield Gunnar from the
consequences, and at the same time earn for
herself a little cash, of whiih she was sorely
in need for a new dress. She persuaded her
lover, with the. aid of caresses and tender
cajolery, to let her manage the affair, and he,
after many remonstrances, finally acquiesced.
Only there must, be no delav. The blow
must be struck at once. He feared, though
he did not confess it, that if she gave him
time for reflection his courage would desert
him. The next day was Saturday, and
Mathilda gave her word that in Sunday
morning's, racers Mr. Norman's crime
should be properly trumpeted, with flaring
headlines and spicy details.
It was really a great relief to Gunnar to
escape striking the blow with bis own hand.
And yet he was anything but happy. A
kind of perverse sense of duty, which he
had stimulated by meditation upon his
mother's wrongs, forbade him to withdraw;
and yet he felt mean and dastardly, as he
sat opposite to his father at the dinner ta
ble, listening to his kindly and instructive
talk. The desire to benefit and instruct him
was so.obvions that every remark cut the
son to the quick and made him quiver with
suppressed excitement. He was on the
point of breaking down and confessing bis
plot; but the thought of his mother's toil
and suffering braced him up again and
made him adhere to his resolution. When
the meal was at an end he was about to
hurry away from the kindness that scorched
him; but Mr. Norman put his hand on his
shoulder and asked him to step into the
library, as he had something very particu
lar to say to him. When they were seated
in easy-chairs before the open fire they
smoked for,awhile in meditative silence.
But the face of each betrayed dimly the
emotions which wrestled within him.
"Finn," began Mr. Norman, blowing a
slender column of smoke toward the fire
place, "will you do me a favor?"
"I shall have to know first what it is."
"Well, you are right in not making rash
promises. But when I tell voa that mv
peace of mind, my, happiness, depends upon
your doing this for me, I think you'll not
refuse.
Gunnar's heart thumped in his throat
He dreaded what was to come, and yet he
could not tell whether it was a wild joy or
a desperate anxiety which chased the blood
through his veins and made the pulse ham
mer in his temples.
"The fact is, Finn, I have a wife and a
son," Mr. Norman continned. "I know
they are both living, and I want you to go
to them, tell them I am alive and love them
as much as ever. Tell them I am a rich
man, and that I want them to come and
spend the rest of their days with me."
He stared fixedly into the fire while speak
ing; but Gunnar saw his lip tremble, and a
sudden moisture clouded his eyes, and made
him rise abruptly and pace the floor.
"How long is it since you left your wife and
son?" asked Cymnar, with a mighty effort
not to betray his emotion.
"Eighteen years, my boy," answered Nor
man huskily, "18 years."
He continued to walk up and down on the
floorJVith his head bent.
"You think I am much to blame; and you
are right I wish I could explain it to you;
but I can't I was miserable' in the Norse
settlement, utterly, inconceivably miserable
because there was something in mewhich no
one understood and myself least of all. I
told in my innocence the Norwegian parson
of it, and he said it was the devil tempting
me. I thought for a while he was right My
wife agreed with the parson; I was of no use
to her, and gave her many a bitter bonr. I
had no choice but to break" away. She her
self consented to it Hard and toilsome, but
not unhappy .years followed. I found my
work, and I bless God for that. I have not
known a really unhappy hour since, though
I have suffered from remorse and a longing
for those who are dear to me."
"Why, then, did you not go to them?"
asked Gunnar, in a voice which no effort
could steady.
"Young man, it may seem foolish to you,
if I say that JU never had the time," an
swered Norman, flinging himself again into
the arm chair; "bnt for all that, it is the
fact My work has' possessed me like a first
love which kept me awake at night I post
poned and again postponed doing my duty,
because I dreaded to see the Norwegian
parsons in my house, until I should feel
strong enough to fight them on their own
ground. I assumed the name Norman sim-
?y to escape the same influence in my life,
wanted to be wholly an American, and
take the place to which my ability entitled
me in the American community. 1 could
never have done that if I had again assumed
the spiritual yoke which it cost me such a
dire struggling to throw off."
"Then it is as a burden .you take back
wile and child?" asked Gunnar with a re
sentful glance.
"Ob, no. I love them; I have longed
after them. I want them!" cried his father,
starting up again and resuming his restless
walk.
"But I know I can never make it plain to
you, how you can love a person and yet de
plore certain phases of his character. Once
my wife came near subjugating me, and
from the best of motives crushing out that
which was noblest and most precious in me.
As long as I feared that, I feared her. Now
I fear it no longer and I can afford to let
her know that I love her."
They talked on for about an hour; and
Gunnar without undisguising himself as
sumed the proposed mission. He began
dimly to comprehend that his father, driven
and impelled by his genius, which was an
overmastering force in his life, could not be
judged by the same standard as lesser men.
But just as he had risen to receive Mr. Nor
man s thanks, something touched him with
a cold horror and sent a shudder down his
back. His revenge 1 His wretched revenge!
He was about to dishonor his father just as
he was showing himself v most honorable.
Bnt nerhans there was vet time 1 It was 10
o'clock and the papers scarcely went to press
until 1 or 2 in the morning. With
his head in a whirl he rushed
out of the front door, hired a horse
at a neighboring stable and drove to
Vicker Park. There he had a stormy inter
view with Mathilda, in which adainty little
cloven hoof of mercenary interest peeped
forth all too plainly from under the em
broidered skirts. She had a check for $50
in her pocket, which she had received from
the Daily Trombone for the spicy revela
tions regarding Mr. Norman's wickedness,
and she was-naturaily reluctant to part with
it. But in return for Gunnar's promissory
note for $150, she finally released her tight
little clutch, and gave it up; but like a great
manyTieople who are too clever tor their own
good, Mathilda had really outwitted herself.
She had made 100, but she had lost a
lover. She had a dim presentiment when
her excitement had cooled, that Gunnar's
love for her had received a mortal woundf
and iu this presentiment she was right.
The return of the check, the declaration
of the falsity of the alleged revelations, and
the threat of a suit for libel sufficed, after
considerable discussion, to make The
Trombone renounce the promising sensa-.
tion. Gunnar, to make assurance doubly
sure, remained to see the manuscript and
proof destroyed and the type redistributed.
As be caught glimpses of such monstrous
headline, "A Double Life "f "A Yilkia
Unmasked," "A Eich Mail's Crime," etc,
he realized what a narrow escape he had
bad from committing cruel and dastardly
deed.
A week after this episode Gunnar led a
tall and stately woman of 40 into Norman's
library. The manufacturer was standing
with his hands in his pockets and his back
to the fire. There was a vague anxiety in
his face and an occasional twitching of the
muscles about the mouth, as if he were
trying to master a strong emotion. He
started forward, with both hands out
stretched, when' the door opened, bat
paused in, the middle of the floor, gazing
with a strange uncertainty at the two
persons- who entered. The handsome
matron r became conscious of a slight
embarrassment, as she noted his expression
and the joyous eagerness which had ani
mated her features gave way to an anxious
confusion. He was so different from what
she had expected. Eighteen long years lay
between them with the slow transformation
they had 'wrought. They had taken her
husband from her and substituted another
who was he and yet not he. This good look
ing middle-aged gentleman with a full
beard and clad in city attire, how could he
ever be, to her what the shabby, restless, dis
contented Norse patient, Hans Matson, had
been? ''And vet", as he pressed her hands
and welcomed her, though not with the free
and joyous rmg; she had expected, she
caught a giimpe in bis look and manner of
the man she' had loved. And the cadence
of his yoice rang with clear vibrations
through the depth of her soul.
"But the boy, the boyl" were the first
wordse uttered; "he is not dead?"
"The boy' she replied, with a slow,
dubious accent; "No, he isn't dead."
"But why-did you not bring him?"
She Started with a mizzled lnnfc fir.t ot
her son, then at her husband.
"I don't understand it at all," she ejacu
lated in a fervor of amazement "Gunnar,"
she continued, turning to the youth, "why
do you not speak to your father?"
It was now Norman's turn to be amazed.
He started back with an exclamation of sur
prise. He rnbbed his eves as if to clear his
vision. Then with a dawning joy in his
face he'grasped the hand which the young
uiau iiciu uui. 10 mm.
"Finn Varsko!" he cried, "you have
robbed me of a son in return for the one you
give me."
Copyrighted, 1839. All rights reserved.
AI, OLD L0YE LETTER'S AID.
How the TsBderSIltilTe Helped a Soldier
j to Get a Pension.
Mr. Mayer the Special Examiner of the
Bureau of Pensions, says the Chicago Newt,
told of a. man" who lives up in Butler coun
ty. He is paralyzed from a sunstroke re
ceived while on the march to Washington
to therand review after the surrender of
Lee. Not a man could be found to assist In
proving his claim'. All his comrades of the
march were scattered or dead. T,here was
not a scrap of paper of official record.
"I was satisfied," said Mr. Mayer, "that
here was a genuine ease. His story was al
ways consistent, and then he was a compar
atively helpless paralytic. He could move
about a little, but could do no work. I tried
in every imaginable way to get him to recall
something, that would give me a clew, but
visit after visit to him brought nothing.
"I finally asked him one day if he ever
wrote letters home, and if he might not have
written about that time.
" 'Why, yes,' he said, T used to write to
my sweetheart'
" 'And where is she now?" I asked.
" 'There She is.
" 'Did you ever save any of those letters,
madam?' I inquired. (Just as though a
woman didn't always save her love letters,
tied up in a ribbon.)
" 'Vhy, yes, I believe all the letters he
Aver wrote in ft nrn T-ntnfwi eAmarhAa n- '
she replied. Pretty soon she came back
with a, worn' and fadded package of letters'
from her then sweetheart describing the
very incident of the sunstroke. He had
written her as won as he had recovered
sufficiently and told how the day was op
pressive and the march to Washington hot
and dusiy, and how he had been overcome
with the heat and had fallen out by the way
side and had Iain under a tree, all day long
while the columns were marching by.
"That letter to his sweetheart saved the
day. It got him. his pension. He had been
trying ever since 1865 until recently to se
cure it It was a great case in which I be
came profoundly interested and I rejoiced-
wita mm.
A TEEI GRATEF0L B0ESE.
She Wallu.In(o Her Master1 Bedroom to
Thnnk Hliafor llnd Treatment.
Lewis to n.JonrnalJ
A -well-known man who lives not far
from Newcastle, Me., told me of an experi
ence he had a feW winters since with a
horse of which J'e was very fond. He was
driving acr0ssJefierson pond one afternoon
when the. mare went through. the ice. In an
instant the sleigh also went under. The
gentleman managed to get out of the water
himself after a valiant struggle, when, find
ing himself upon a firm footing, he turned
his attention to the horse. After along
time, the assistance of two men was secured
and, even then, nearly an bonr elapsed be
fore the poor horse was" rescued, thoroughly
chilled and exhausted.
a Kot far off, the owner had a friend who
lived in the old-fashioned house in which I
listened to the story, a house' with a cellar
kitchen. . r
He led ihe mare straight into this
kitcheh'where she lay down, gladly enough
before a big, blazing fire.
Warm blankets were thrown upon the
poor creature, and hot drinks were given to
her. Then her owner, prettv well chilled
and tired out himself, riassed into a bedroom
on the same floor and soon fell asleep. About
midnight he was awakened by something
passing over the bed-clothes. He felt a
little startled. Then he felt a warm breath 1
upon his face, and lot the mare had come
into the room to find her master and ibank
him, for she fell to licking his face gently!
Her owner was manly enough .to own up
that he was so touched that he cried over
her. Finally he rose, led her back to the
kitchen, threw a big log upon the coals and
hown lay the, Intelligent mare while her
master, silently registering a vow that the
grateful creature should never pass out of
his hands returned to bis own bed. I used
the expression "he was manly enough," for
I share' this belief of ' Bayard Taylor, "The
bravest are tenderest''
BONNETS A M&AS3 OF GSAC&
Good-IiookJns; Head Gear Considered a aa
j) Aid to DeTotloo.
Iievlston'JoniBal.1
A good-looking bonnet, like a handsome
rose or the strain of a church organ may be a
means of grace. Where, is the consistency
that adorns the pulpit with flowers and fes
toons the organ loft with evergreen branches
and yet frown oh the pretty bonnet in the
front pew? It is charged that some folks go
to church, tp seethe fashions? Do not the
fashions, then, call them in, aud what more
does the church bell do? If looking on
beautiful objects puts the mind in a calm
and receptive frame of miud why is not the
handsome bonnet an aid to devotion, not
only to the wearer bnt to those who sit be
hind her? It is not the wosaan who is satis
fied that she looks just right who thinks of
her clothes instead of the sermon. It is she
who is wondering whether that pin heeoses
unfastened or that(flower bent oat of shape.'
Ana now muca pleasure it is to let one
eves rest on an artiitic combination of .Ia,ie
and feathers than oh the same materials pat
on an awry or even on tne Daiu and sleepy
head of the-goou'old "chareh pillar" in the
front pew.
It may often be unjust judesaeat to
take the outoide of the head as aa indieattoa
a sorrof biosseraingoBt of wbatkineide,
but people have always so jidged aad ate
lbly always wMl." Iveaa'very shMrflhaV
has been known to display awe oh hales, as
ire u wim wirarn me meiaerwaaa se
aa esBeeMuir awossan aw isaait v.
THE FIEESIDE SPHIM
A CgMgh of Identical Hits for,
Hois (Mm,
Addreu communtcattoruor tMt departmtnt
toE.B.-OHADBOtrBH.ieweB.Jfas5
788 AS TOLAWFTJI. "WXiPOX. ,'
i
789 SKVEEAI. PAIBS OT .TWUtl.
To show you what I mean by twist, ,
Take Jurfur. U you please.
This I would call two fars or sUas, "
That make a scalp, dtsesse, ;.'
I- t
Two common flounders frost the fe.1
auks irom neaa to tail,
Inplumace, voice and shape wBl be
The Persian nightingale.
-V
Two drones, as exiles from tka mML A
Each mad enough to frothy '
Proceed to India, there to fona .
A kind of cotton cloth. ?
in.
wo sailors, on tne shore oucemed. - - -.-
Securely apprehend; ,-.. '
And now the laugh on you is turned,
Vaii,. Mlt.hr aMIMalf m v Im. jl "
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Two hands (of conrserourself aadlf
Have ne'er them to tradncedl '
"Will make a tree a score feet tegb,
In climates warm produced.
V.
Two nicknames, rarely leaviBj beys
" Till they have men become
vr m snow you dt a aearBMg neua
A large, flat, Hindoo dram. .
V.
Two bugle notes, of strains qa&e siwfV
xnatonyourneariBKtteu, ' 'i
tt in fiimo a uiru ql sparrow nw h
Whose home is la BraaB,
VTJ.
Two hedges, such as trim a laws.
Or vet a garden shield-
Become by use of Drain asd bnn.
a. recce or oanjc coaeeaiea.
tut. .,
Two aromatic coffee trees v ' ' 5
Tb flourish near Mm Nlte.- d
Produce a sugar ptam witto ea, vi;
' On which all chlWrea Bi8e..4 Fn
790--NTJMSRICJLU ' '
Tb e whole to him who uademaads.!
Quite plainly has a hundred feawk. -
The word is not Si 2, 8;
bo qmcxjy you caa it
1,2,7. 3 and 8. 'tis true.
-,-
inu
iu need, to find a ureeer cae: ','-
Then simple 'erR'rwill do tbe rest-jAt
Patience, more eiefaatly eeesej&f$,
v ' UiTTER KVHt,'
791 DOUBLE OBtOSQ.
:'iit
1. A demand (obs.). 2, Reality.
3. Aketf ,
f el low at Magdalen College, Oxford, i. AHght-
producing vessel, instrument ur apparatus, a.
To wander about and bee. & TemofMrt. Wt
plunder. 8. ApabUcwaUc 9. As eSeer. stew
ard, or governor. Id- Part of the arm. llAa
ancient game at ball, practised is some yerw
of England. 12. Pomp, show, or frwriiHa, ' t
1. Calamities. 2. To storm. 3. ue4illow- .
ance. 4. To vacillate. 6. Aa aeVer;9Mt-
nai moraer. o. is constituent jk -qii.xctem-tence.
7. The llqnor t a taa rat. 8.lf Ufa
lie. 9. Tbe aparrmeot is fc, Cwasieongllal
where th e idol Is in-ot. ML Assist M.'JLmr$
In Africa. 12. A proas;. "
Join with the letters toruimr e
es-aff1-
of the signers of thejeetotia eC. 1
eoce, and get these woros ei atae mi
1. Very short-tailed babooes. X. '
anee given to a factor sty Ms juisi as a
compensation for his services. 3.-T low eve's
country, t (Ichth.) Ao. eePilw ftekk.aClire
genus Petroayzon. 5. A preface. & la Ba-.
gland, x stick wita a basket tinnitb WM.ia
rustic asmsements. 7. A small 1
8. A kind or Detrei found
Teeiona. 9. Turnirar back. Ml A .Simmfaia
vantor attendant; U. A-owef fer ttartsea ,
Uon of bells. 12. A diea. at leal, akltSkmlirit
other white meat- freed ftea boaee, aao
boiled and served cold. SSjmbI
792 PiXlXSBOXS.
In California. saT.re leajped
A tradesman kaac ataea asa a
His living there. Above taedaec
He huaz a slaa that ntatato- tmi
The name By waiea tea tow IiaijiS
" " " wwww m HH1J
There's notatod e4d tnMs, yea'safjj
uukiem vni.ai aomci
From right to left, or Mt se i
The tame resale wffl oosne 1
Now. tell me whet ta
To make teas haMaetdBie etga. -sn
798 XKAWlTJejr.
One are cotes of Portage!
Useful, although rather smalt.
Yon should dee, whoe'er year Aree,
uomea m, rea as urea eB hef ?
at
Find for htm the easiest eaait.
For his welfare hare a ear.
794 THE TAKKHS'S TTOgji
, A Yankee and an Arab met fa, thai
oanara. juoAoau wim am
which tne x anzee was oeeiroas o
Dut tne uner uaa oaiy jwf-eaeaafl ssaaarsa-.
payfor21poaaaofaste.aad' rttaetecTthe
"It will sot be pose We to "nfi Win ilsiloi.
said the Ara s, and he was pttwlwr MieeTe
on when the Yankee stopped him. , '.
"WaItamlBUte,V M be, -1 thWctl eaa
weigh them. I hare here a yatasMel: waleh ia
divided Into saaees ot three- laeaear km ia a
piece of ivory whiea wejefes 38 aoaaea, aad heee
are 5 peaaaa of sugar.; With thee three arlMH.
Icanwei;b2lDoendsof dates." TtJcroMiuiittie
Yankee piereed the ysidstfek ttueafki
ter aad sasaeaaed It like a scale iNMaa." 1
bang, the ivory from one of tha-aMck
Kwvv
-ittS?
W& '
wt
v
ISk2iL
efB9M , IVH.
ia the Awatte
r
of the scale, the sugar frees aamhar aaaitae
dates from a third, and. was fbaa sMe ttaiaeea
rateyweigh2L pounds of dates. ihr:'' "
How were the three artieies j apiae t
yardstick! J. X.WmtmSsx.1 Jf
t:
ANSWBBfl.
'A"
7861. Loeesotive draws ears i hais Jrea
track B to turntable. .2, Qaartertaraef tera
tablcand locomotive paehes ease-4 aaa'SSs
trace A. s. vtoaner tara or loiaeaiis, sad
locomotive draws cars 8 aad ZfsaaMMkBtt''
turntable. 4. Half tara of tarsrts-aje, sea leee-
motire rmeoapies iros ears a ami 7
on trade X) atooe. &. Batf
turntable, and looeajotiye
7 aad 8 to traek B, aim
tsrss aloae to turn taaie. a. i
tara table, aad loeoawMre draw i
irom axon, u to tara taste, ivi
torn table, aad looOHKOare rana i
D. 8. Half turn of tarn table, aari
poshes ears o and e to traee b la 1
anu o. v. vtoaroer tara u tara 1
motive dt&ws ears ana I to
Quarter tara of tara tawt, t
tans alone to traek JO. U. JSa
table, aad leeeaotiTe paehee
kuck a ib inn. o& can a, e, f s
ter turn ox sera taMftaaa la
cars 2 and 1 to tarn table. XSL i
tarn table, aad toeoatatrre rasa
1. 1C Half tara of tara taaie.
train Is bow areaealr fnrautt ea
couple aad ras ia the aireeMoa C aha' anew
along treat D. . ,
7St JeweL JJav-ewa-aiLl .. --
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