'3i y ,v t 18 upon him that he had undertaken a telle en tirely beyond his knowledge. For example, he could purchase any quantity of crimson satin; bal how or where was he going to get it made up into a coverlet, or counterpane, or quilt, or whatever the thing was called? Then sunnosiug he had the mirror and the lace, who was going to put tne ace round the ton of the mirror? he could not do it himself. A little set of ornamental book shelves he could buy, certainly; but how was he going to ask for the bows of ribbon, or the silk draperv. or whatever it was that ought to adorn the brass rods st the head of the bed? The more he considered the matter the more clearlv he saw that he must consult a woman, and the only woman he could con suit in confidence was his aunt, Mrs. Elli son, who had now returned to Brighton. And perhaps he strove to conceal from him seli what it was that so easily and natural ly drew his thoughts to Brighton; perhaps he was hardly himself aware how this secret hunger of the soul was minute by minute and hour bv hour increasing in its de mands. Maisrie had not been so long away; but already he felt that one brief glimpse of her, no matter at what distance, would be a priceless thing. And then again it would not be breaking any compact He would not seek to go near her, if there was this un derstanding that these two were for the pres ent separated the one from the other. She would not even know he was in the town. And surely it would be a new and wonderful experience lo look at Maisrie irom afar off, as if she were a stranger. So instead ot going to Eesent street he went to the nearest postoffice and tele graphed to Mrs. Ellison, asking if she could take him in for a day or two. Then he walked on home, and by the time he had reached Grosvenor place the answer was there awaiting him; he was to go down at once. He put a few things in his bag, jumped into a hansom and drove to Vic toria station, caught the 4:30 train, and eventually arrived at Brunswick terrace about 6. He jruessed that his aunt's after noon visitors would be gone, and he would have ample opportunity of a long talk with her before dinner. His anticipations proved correct. "When he was shown into the big drawing room which looked very snng and warm amid its magnificence he found the tall and bright eyed young widow in sole possession; and she came forward to welcome him with great complaisance. "Very sensible of you, Vin. Yon know lean always make room for you, no mat ter who is in the house." "If I had gone to a hotel, aunt, you would have made an awful row, and I don't want to quarrel with you just at present; the fact is, I have come to you for advice and help," Baid he. "But first my congratulations t I was hardly surprised when I got your let ter; and I am sure no one can wish you more happiness than Ido " "Oh, be quiet," she said, and she took a seat at a little distance from the fire, by the side of a small table, and put a fau between her eves and the crimson-sbaded lamp. "Congratulations? Well, I suppose there are no fools like old foois. But if grown-up people will play at being children, and amuse themselves bv writine things in the sand did I tell you how it all happened? they must take the consequences. And I, who used to be so content! Haven't I often told vou? Perhaps I boosted too much " "OL, ye, pretend you regret it!" said he. "And you talk of your being so old you! why what girl of your acquaintance has half your life and spirit, or half your good looks either " "Vincent Harris," said she, and she turned round and faced him, "what do you want?" He laughed. "It is a very simple matter, aunt." And then he began to tell her ot the little predicament in which he was placed; and to beseech her help. Would she come and choose the things for him? There were plenty of bric-a-brac shops in Brighton; she would kno:r what was most appropriate; her own house wire evidence of her taste. But his ingeuous flattery was ot no avail. Mrs. Epson's face grew more and more serious, u-.i at leneth she exclaimed: "Why, Vin, this is the very maddess of infatuation! And I bad been hoping for far other things. I had imagined from the tone of your lust letter that perhaps there might be a change thatyoureyes had been opened at last. So this is going on just the same as ever?" "It is going on, as you call it, aunt; and is likely to go on so long as I live." "Then I, for one, wish to have nothing to do with it," she said, sharply. "And this last proposal is reallv too audacious. What business have you with that girl's room? what right have you to go into it?" He was rather taken aback for a mo ment. "Business? oh, none of course. "Sone whatever that is to say oh. vest I have. though! I have a perfect right to go into H it. Ihe room is not hers. It is mine. I have paid fur it. When she comes back it will be hers; and where is the harm of her finding it a little prettiei? that is all." "I must say, Vin," she continued, in a Tery reserved lasuion, "that the infatuation of a voung man may excuse a good deal; but this is a little a little too much. Do you consider it quite nice quite becoming? A satin counterpane! I wonder what the girl would think herself if she has any refine ment of feeling if she has any delicacy " His lace grew very pale. " 'It she has any refinement of feeling if she has any delicacy,' " he repeated. Then he roe. "It is useless to say anything further, aunt; there is an end this time." But she had risen, too. He tried to pass her and failed; nay, she went to the door, and stood with h'er back against it, and laced him. 2Jo, you shall not go," she said. "Whv should there be any dissension? You aie my own dear boy; I would do anything for you except in this one direction " "Except in this one direction!" he re peated, scorniully. "Why cannot" we remain friends?" she said, with appealing eyes, "good and true fiiend and agree to leave this one subject alone?" "This one subject that is my life!" he said, vehemently. "What folly you talkl You wish to cut away the very thine I live lor, the very thing that is my liie; and to continue j-onr friendship with what remains a senseless stick or stone! And why? Be cause of your insensate prejudice.your cruel and baseless suspicions. Why do you talk to me as if I were a boy? I have seen twice as much of the world as you have; I have had better opportunities of learning how to judge strangers. Bnt you you live in a narrow groove you have your maid to talk to our acquaintances call in the alter nuon your friends to dinner and what be sides? That is your world. What do you know of the human beings outside it? Must they all be dishonest because they have not Geen heard of by yonr handtul of a set? Must they all be thieves and swindlers because they are uot in the Court Directory? But it is little matter. It this sub ject is debarred, then all is debarred, as between you and me. -You can go your own way, and" I mine. I did expect, now that you have your owu happiness secured, you might show some little generosity, some little sympathy; but I see it is different; and I will not allow one who is dearer to me than all the world to be treated with such enmity, while I am supposed to stand by and accept it as a natural condition of affiirs. I do not; I have had enough; and so here is an end, as between you and me; audi hope you will have more happiness than you seem to -wish for other people." Well, Mrs. Ellison was not used to giving way; but slit was very fona of this proud and handsome boy; and she gave just one sob, and tears gathered in her eyes. "You arc not very kind, Vin," she said. And what marvelous thing was this that instantaneously smote his heart? Why, Maisrie had made use of this very expres sion on the preceding afternoonl And all of a sudden he seemed to recognize that his adversary here was a woman; t.he was akin to his beloved and there ore to be treated fently; Maisrie's voice and eyes seemed to e pleading for her; surely that was enough? He hesitated lor a moment: then he said "Very well: let it be as vou wish. We shall see how we get on, with the one thing that is of more importance to me than any thing else shut out from mention. Bat I J ,J.--tim. ,- .-, i .-,.. f. ,..,. . fcL.--k-M .r,l ,h I I ll IMiBillll must say this to you, aunt: I do not see I am doing anything that the most fastidious person can o'bject to if I put a few pretty things into the room of the girl who is to be my wife." "How do you know that she is to be your wile, Vin?" she said, rather sadly. "I know," he made answer. "My poor boy!" she said; and then the took him bv the hand and led him back to the little ta'ble at which they had been sit ting; and there they had some further con versation about more or less indifferent things, with the one all-important subject carefully avoided. And then it was time for them to go away and dress for dinner. Lord Musselburgh dined with them that evening, and remained some time after the other guests had gone. To Vincent it seemed a puzzling thing that two betrothed people should make so merry. They ap peared so well content with their present es tate; they were so assured as to the future; no anxieties; no conflicting hopes and tears; they were in the happiest mood. Next morning, too, Lord Musselburgh again made his appearance; and the three of them went out lor a stroll along the prome nade. All the world was shining fair and clear; Mrs. Ellison was look ing her best, and seemed to know it; her fiance was in a humor. Why, they were almost like the 'lover and his lass of whom Thomas Morley sang nigh 300 years ago those 'pretty co'untry folks' who lived in a perpetual spring time, with brids singing hey-ding-a-ding-a-ding to them through all the jocund hours. The tall and elegant youug widow blushed and laughed like a maid; her eyes were sarcastic, play ful, amused, according to her varying mood; the sunlight touched her pretty brown hair. There was, indeed, a sort of audacity of comeliness about her, that set Vincent think ing of a very different kind of beauty the beauty, that seems to be dowered with a divine and angelic sadness. He was walk ing with these two; but he did not take part in their frolic talk; nor did he pay much at tention to the crowd of people, the butterflies of fashion, who had come out into the pleasant sunshine. He seemed to see before him .a face that, with all its youth, and its touch of color and its grace of ontline, was strangely pen sive and wistin. And again he asked him self, as many a time he had asked himself, what that expression meant; whether it had been brought there by experience of the many viscissitudes of life, or by loneliness, or whether it was not something more tragic still the shadow ot an impending fate. There was more than that h could not un derstand; her curious resignation, her hope lessness as to the future, her wish to get away. And what was it she had concealed from him? And why had she declared she could not ever be his wife? Tne morning went by, and Vincent had caught no glimpse of Maisrie Bethune or her grandfather; but indeed he had not ex pected that; the old man would be busy with his books, and it was not likely that Maisrie would come wandering bv herself tbrongh this fashionable throng. When at last the three friends got back to Brunswick Terrace, it was close on luncheon time; though here Mrs. Ellison was mnch sur prised to learn that Lord Musselburgh had engaged Vincent to lunch with him at the Bed ord Hotel. "What's the matter?" said she. "Busi ness or billiards?" "Neither," her fiance made answer. ''I only wanted to give you a little holiday for an hour or two." "Not longer, then," she said. "Fori am going out driving at 3, and I shall expect you both." Soon the two young men were seated at a little window table in the spacious and cheerful coffee room; and again Vincent was strnck by the eminently practical manner in which his companion spoke of his forthcom ing marriage. It was going to be, he frankly intimated, a very uselul arrangement for both Mrs. .Ellison and himself, and their combined fortunes would enable them to do what hitherto had been impossible for either of them. Mrs. Ellison was fond of society; he had always looked forward to the forma tion of a political salon when once he got married, and now he thought he could afford to have a much bigger house, which would be necessary for that purpose, than his present one in Piccadilly. His place at Meudover had not been properly looked after of late; there would have to be some expenditure there; the chief reception rooms wanted a thorough overhauling, and a wife's supervision would supplement the ad vice of a professional decorator. Then there were speculations as to whether he, Mussel burgb. ought to accept office some subsidi ary office, of course, as befitting his years when his party came into power again. You see, Vin Harris was being consulted now as if he were a friend of the lamily. But as lor Vincent's own affairs, not a word. Lord Musseiburgh had received a hint and he was discretion itself. And yet, if ever in his life the younger of those two friends had need of a confidant, it was that afternoon, lor something had hap pened that seemed to strike at the very roots of his being. When it was about time for them to go along to keen their appointment with Mrs. Ellison Vincent was stand ing in the hall of the hotel, wait ing for Lord Musselburgh, who had gone upstairs to his room; and he was idly looting out upon the passing crowd, idly and absently: there was no one there to in terest him; very different it would be (he was saying to hitnsell) toward 6 or 7 o'clock, when perbaps Maisrie and her grandfather would come out for a stroll belore going to dine at one of the restaurants. At present he had no sort of concern with all those peo ple who went driving and walking.past, in the duil sunshine of this wintry afternoon. It was a pretty show; and that was all. But of a sudden his heart stood still; and his startled vision beheld what seemed incred ible, and yet was there, and actual, and be yond any doubt Ere he was aware, a ve hicle had driven by a tall dog-cart, with two figures in front and one behind; bat another glance revealed to him that the one behind was old George Bethune: who could mistake at any distance the powerlul and striking head, the shaggy eyebrows, the flow ing white hair? And the two in front? one was a young man, to Vincent unknown; the other a terrible misgiving told him that was Maisrie, though they were now some way off What did it all mean? He had neves beard of their knowing anyone in Brighton. They had come down for seclu sion, for work: yet here they were iu the midst of the fashionable crowd; and a young man a stranger was making osten tatious display of his acquaintance with them. A thousand wild surmises, the off spring of a very madness of jealousy, sprang into his brain. Why had the old man so clearly intimated to him that he was not wanted that they wished to go to Brighton by themselves? And who was this person who was making such open parade of his intimacy with, the'm? Alas! there was no answer to these burning and bewildering questions; and he stood there breathless,' alarmed, yet not daring to ask the cause of his alarm. Lord Musselburgh came along the hall. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Vin " "Oh, don't mind that," the young man said, striving to conceal his agitation. "The fact is I I dont tbink-I will go driving this afternoon; will you make my excuses' to mv aunt ?" "What's the matter?" said Musselburgh, regarding him. "You look as if you had seen a ghost or'a creditor; what is it, man?" "Never mind never mind it is noth ing," Vin naid, hastily. "I will see' you later ou. Will you make my. excuses thanks!" The hall porter swung the door open, and before bis astonished companion could re monstrate he had passed out and down the stone steps. He crossed over to lose him self in the throng on the opposite promen ade. The dogcart would be coming by again; he would see who this new friend was. Could he not hide somewhere? He felt like a spy, like a traitor, with all those dire imaginings surging through his bran. And sudden wrath, too; he would demand to Know by what right any stranger was allowed to make Maisrie Bethune so con spicuous. Why. it was too Dnblic it was a boast; and hardly decent, either; ought not respect lor age and white hair to nave placed the old man in front, instead of inviting all the world to witness the flatter ing ot a young. girl? And as for Maisrie well, even in his wildest and blackest sur- t.- . h ' y -. -. i. THE miies he could think, no serious barm of Maisrie; but she was too yielding; she was too generous with her favors; she ought to make distinctions; she ought not to permit this great, idle crowd to draw false conclu sions. It was ill done of her behind his back; had she so toon forgotten that he had pledged his life to he not so very many hours ago? By and by he knew rather than saw that they were returning. He was on the sea ward side ot the road; there were a good many people passing to and fro; moreover, be was partly concealed by an open fly that stood close to the railings. The tall dog cart came swiftlv along; an unprejudiced spectator would have said that the young man who was driving was rather a good looking young fellow, of the pink and white type, with a small yellow mustache care fully waxed at the ends, and clear gray eyes. He. wore a buff-colored coat, with 'a velvet collar of similar hue; he had a flower in his button-hole. Then, again, bis turn out was faultless a neatly appointed cart a beautiful, high-stepping roan. All this was visible at a glance. But it was on Maisrie Bethune that Vincent's gaze was bent; and as the drew near, his heart was smitten at once with re morse and with gratitude. Had he ex pected, then, that she would be smirking and smiling and coquetting with this new acquaintance? On the contrary, Maisrie sat there grave and silent and reserved; her eyes were neither observant nor conscious; once or twice they were turned toward the sea. To Vincent she seemed so distinguished looking, so refined, and noble, and sell possessed, as contrasted with that fresh corn plexioned country clown who had the monstrous audacity to claim her as his com panion. Then, as the dog cart went by, he caught sight of George Bethune. He was sitting rather sideways, to permit of his ad dressing an occasional remark to the young gentleman who was driving; no doubt that was why Maisrie was allowed to remain silent Perhaps she was thinking of some one whom she thought to be far away ? Strangely enough, as soon as they had disappeared from view, his doubts and im aginings grew black again. For a moment that vision of Maisrie's sweet face had charmed him out of himself; but now these hideous questions rushed back upon him, demanding an answer where there was no answer. He did not attempt to reason him self out of this paroxysm of jealousy; that would have been useless; he could but sub mit to this gnawing torture of anxiety and suspense, while walking up and down, and waiting, and fearing to find them coming within sight once more. They did not return. Shortly after four the dusk began to fall; by half-past five bla'ck night had enveloped sky and sea, and the town was all ablaze with golden stars. There were hardly any carriages now; the people had betaken themselves to the other side of the road, to look in at the glaring shop-windows on their way home. Vincent found himself more alone than ever; and knew not what to do or which way to turn. In his present frame of mind he dared not go near the house in Brunswick Terrace; he could not submit to cross-examining eyes. It would drive him nad to talk, while those rankling conjectures were busy at his heart He wanted to see Maisrie again; and yet dreaded to see her, lest he should find her once more in the society of that man. But about 6:30 his aimless perambulations of the street became circumscribed. He drew nearer to the neighborhood ot the restau rants. If old George Bethune had brought his London habits down with him, as many people did, would not he soon make bis ap pearance, along with his granddaughter? Here in East street, for example, were cafes, both French and Italian, where they could have a foreign dinner if they chose. Would he venture to addressthem? Wonld he con fess he had seen them driving in the hope they might volunteer information for which he dared not ask? He could not tell; his brain was in a bewilderment of anxiety and unreasoning misery; and this grew worse, indeed, as the slow minutes went by, and there was no sign of the figures for whom he was so eagerly watching. And then a sickening thought occurred to him. What if those two had been invited to dine at a hotel by the country clod by the young'man from the plow by the rutie dan dy with the velvet collar? At the Old Ship, most likely a private room a profusion of flowers plenty of champagne Honde Jun ior gay and festive. Cigarettes between the courses Arry baying learnt so much from the cheap society journals; and will not Miss Bethune fee persuaded to join? Ah, well, perbaps after dinner, when the liqeurs come to be handed round. There is a piano in the room; will Miss Bethune oblige with an accompaniment? here is a smart little thing "Kiss Me on the Sly, Johnnie!" the latest draw at the music halls. . . . Seven by tne big clock over the stationer's shop; and still no sign of them. Clearly they were not coming to any restaurant herebaout. So at length he left East street and went down to the King's road, and waudered slowly along, glancing furtively into this or that hotel especially where some coffee room window happened to have been left with the blind up. It was a vain quest, and he was aware of it; but some thing, he knew not what, drew him on. And meanwhile his mind was busy with pictures of a private room, and flowers, and three figures seated at table. Ach weh! mein Liebchen war die Brautl At a quarter to 8, Lord Musselburgh was shown into Mrs. Ellison's drawing room. "Haven't you seen anything of Vin?" she said, with astonished eyes. "No nor you?" "Nothing at all and now he won't have time to dress for dinner." "I shouldn't wonder if he did not tnrn up for dinner," Musselburgh said. "Some thing very peculiar happened to him to-day I could" not precisely gather what but he was obviously upset" "Yes," said Mrs. Ellison, and her face was graver than its wont "Something has indeed happened to him to-day though he himself is not aware of it as yet." She went to a little cabinet, and took from it two letters. "I thought you ought to see both of these," said she. "One is from my brother-in-law; I got it just a minute or two after you left The other is my answer; I will have it posted as soon ss you have read it" He took the first letter, which was from Vincent's father, and read it carefully through, without a word of comment. Then he took the other, which ran as follows: "Deak Habland-It is very terrible, but I half suspected as much, and terrible as it is there is nothing to bedone but to tell Vin the whole truth, and at once. Tele graph for him to-morrow morning on busi ness ot importance; if he wants to come down again I shall be ready with such con solation as I can think of. I fancy from one or two things that those people are here in Brighton just now; all the more reason why you should summon him home at once. Poor boy, it will be a sad awakening. Bnt he is young; he will getoverit, and perhaps be none the worse in the end for this cruel experience of the deceit and wickedness of the world. Let me know how he takes it Yours affectionately, Madge." No, Vincent did not come in to dinner that evening. He was still walking up and down the King's road, glancing now and again, butwith a sort ot hopelessness at any little group of people that might appear at the hall door of this or that hotel, and all the while there was a fire eating at his-heart To be Continued Next Sunday. , Whnt He Would Say. New York 'World.J "Ah, little boy," said the minister on Sunday morning, "what would your father say il he knew you were loitering here with a fish-pole?" "I dunno, but I guess he'd cuss me for not hurryin' up an catchin' some fish before the creek gets cleaned out by the Thomas boys." Gross Outrnces Upon the stomach and bowels are perpetrated by multitudes ot Injudicious people, who, upon experiencing the annoyance of constipatfon tn a slight degree. nflltrate their bowels with drenching evacunts, which enfeeble the Intes tinal membrane to a serious extent sometimes, even, superinducing dysentery or piles. Bos tetter's Stomach Bitters is the trne succeda neum for theso nostrums, since It is at once In vigorating, gentle and effectual. It also ban ishes dyspepsia, malarial complaints, rbeuma Usa and kfdney.trouuies. j: ,, HTTSBTJRG' DISPATCH, CA'LINY'S MOUNTAINS. 'Odd Experiences of Our Bold Lady Traveler and Her Horse. NAMES OP THINGS AND CHILDREN. The Half-Civilized People Not Up in the Science of Living. BEIDESx THIRTEEN TEARS OP AGE fCOBBXSrOHBISCX OF THX DISPATCH. 1 Bull Mountain, IN, 7 , N. C, er2S. BUNCOMBE UOUNTT, N September ; N my way to this place I crossed the Toe river several times, and this ex cited in me a great curiosity to know ; bow the river came ! oy its name, une young man told m6 glibly enough that the name came from the fields of tow along its banks. A distinguished person I afterward met laughed at this, and declared the name was merely an abridgment of the original Indian name, Estatoe. All the names are odd around here, and neighborhoods are usually distinguished by the name of the creek upon which they are situated, and, apropos of this fact, I heard a fanny dialogue the other day. There is a Hominy creek ont west or here, and one gaunt, lack-luster mountaineer said to an other in a verv friendly tone: "Wasn't you raised on Hominy?" "Nawl" said the other, straightening up wrathfully, ' I's raised on jes' ez good vittles ez yen wuzl A DISAPPOINTING HOME. Phebe and I stopped for our dinner at a house which, in any of the Northern States. or in any more enlightened part of the coun try, one would have expected to contain plenty of the comforts of life, if not luxuri ous refinements a good-sized frame house, surrounded by a large and quite prosperous looking farm. .But it is not means alone (not, indeed, means so much) these people lack, as the science of living, and when they become able to buv or build a good comfort able bouse they live in it, not like owners and proprietors, who know and value the comforts and conveniences they have pro vided themselves with, and use them accord ingly, but like robbers base usurpers who, having stolen or wrongfully seized a fine thing, know not how to enjoy it, but use it ignorantly and disrespectfully and have small gain of their theft The big rooms were bare and uninviting; three frowsy beds stood in the room where I ate my dinner; drying apples were spread out over the porch floors and most of the rooms; there was not such a thing as a com fortable chair or a book in sight in the house; the windows were grimy, and every thing about the place dingy and unappetiz ing to the last degree. The woman who waited upon me was a gentle, patient faded -Vr-ZZfiiUlNA. Hendricks, Cleveland and Thurman. creature of about 19, who bad been married at 13, and had three 'very pretty and phe nomenally dirty children. MORE ABOUT NAMES. These, according to a very prevalent taste hereabouts for the bizarre and striking iu Christian names, she called respectively, Belva Lockwood, Delta Lennie and Nigjry Aldecky. Belva (or Belvy) Lockwood, she believed they had, some or them about the place, found in a book she couldn't read herself. Nigary came out of some book, too it was "the name of some big falls of water." they said; and a youug man travelin' throngh had named Deity. When I went to leave, the kind soul thought 20 cents ample remuneration for my dinner and Phebe's, and said.she didn't feel right to charge a "lone woman" anything. My head ached iu a threatening sort of way alter dinner, and leaving Burnsville to my right I pushed on, intending to reach, if possible, the houseot the Mouut Mitchell guide by evening. As I left the more open country and followed up toward the "head o' the waters," into the very heart of the mountains, the way became more rugged, and anything like settlements smaller, fewer and further apart MUST HAVE TOBACCO. Each miserable little cabin had, in addi tion to the small field of corn, some sweet potatoes and maybe a (ew iruit trees, its patch of tobacco, one of the prime necessi ties among these people here, who all c hew it, down to the little girls and boys of 6 and 7. The money spent umonir them for snuff and tobacco, or the time and labor expended in raising and preparing the homemade article would put them a long way on the road to comparative comfort The North Carolina mountaineers were quite unanimously Union in their sympa thies and are now generally good Bepnb licans; but I rode past one household in my afternoon's trip that was certainly a strik ing exception to the general political com plexion. Three picturesquely dirty little tow-headed brats the two younger ones wearing copperas colored cotton dresses, the oldest, possibly six, simply and effectively clad in a red woolen undershirt that just escaped the ground, tied at the neck with a leather string, and baying the sleeves grace fully fastened up by the same means were playing, with all the pretty affectionateness ot tiger cubs or young hyenas, in front of a more than usually wretched hut Sud denly in the meelee, the youngest bit the dust and bawled nut, "Maw, make Thur man lemnie 'lone!" "You Thurman! Stop pesterin' Cleve land," responded a voice from the hnt "I haint fetched' im," squeaked he of the red shirt, "its Hendricks." DOWN "WITH THE HEADACHE. Aslrode.on my head grew worse and worse. I missed the obscure and little traveled road that leads to Big Tom Wil son's the Mount Mitchell cnlde; there wasn't a house anywhere that looked at all promising for a night's comfortable lodg ing to say nothing of any remedies or nursing. Bnt finally, when the whole world was reeling around me; and every step Phebe took rent the sky .with jagged lightnings, and sent boits of agony tearing throngh my brain, I stopped at a honse and called. A woman came out, and as in a dream I remember her helping me down and into the house. I got to bed, and finally, after many hours, to sleep, and slept off my headache. About 10 o'clock, I suppose, I suddenly started awake. There was a spot of 'dim, smoky light in the gloom, and within this circle a wizened, drawn face trembled, nodded, bobbed up and down with its dark eyes fixed earnestly and in quiringly upon me. At this startling vision of nightmare'I lay blinking for some moments, when the voice of the woman who had helped me in spoke: "How d've'feel now?" "Better," said I, dazedly. "I jest come in t' see if ye'd like some thin' t' eat 'fore we all went to bed." I said I didn't want anything, and as my. llf f Ml NU..V r i . vtA r i whi I l Mfi iu-r-j if 4hr SUNDAY," SEPTEMBER eyes became accustomed to the light I law it was the same woman of the afternoon, only in my distracting pain I hadn't noticed that she bad a shaking palsy. She recalled most vividly old Angela in "The Eye of St Agnes," of Keats, and looked very much "A poor affrighted, trembling, churchyard thing" in the uncertain light of the smok ing, chimneyless little brass lamp she car ried. Well, I wasquite. recovered in the morn ing, but it rained, in the style and manner generally known as "cats and dogs," all day long, and I was a prisoner. The floor of the room in which I slept that part of it not occupied by three beds fwas covered with drying apples, spread out ou sheets, counterpanes and old dress skirts. Here, of course, I was expected to comb my hair and make my entire toilet, and here I made it, thinking that if they could stand it, I who never eat dried apples ought to be able to. A TOUNO WIPE AT PLAT. I heard loud romping and scuffling going on several times, and much squealing and giggling; and ns I went out to break last, I saw a boy of 16, and an extremely hand some girl ot apparently 15, with black eyes and a mop of curling black hair, run out on the porch. "Zonyl You Arizony! "Sam! You Sam," called my "kindly crone," and added apologetically to me: "Them chil'n's bad as two pet b'ars when ever they git together. Zony's been married a year or two an they don't git to see each otheroften." I learned later that this term "pet b'ars" meant something in this family. There had hardly ever been a time when A Wizen Face by Canale Light. they were without one or two inthe house, the father and older sons all being famous and inveterate hunters. There we-e shot guns all about the house, several hanging upon the loom Where a piece ot butternut colored jeans was in process of construction. WOMEN DO THE WORK. The women of the family seemed to do pretty much all the work, Sanimie even re fusing nonchalantly to get the cows for his favorite, Arizony, and sauntering off with his gun. "G'way Irom here, you ol rabbit huntin' thing," I heard her say to him, as she re turned with two big buckets of milk and he came dodging about her with a couple of rabbits. At last I started out with Sammy as escort and arrived at the place after climbing over the worst trail I ever saw. But Phebe ar rived fresh and frisky. She tackled every hardship, every obstacle, with the same fine dauntless air and carried me along where Sammie's heavier horse struggled and groaned. And she's such a dainty creature, so marvelously light and sure of foot and so iron to endure. When we came to a hor ribly steep place a regular jump-off she would extend a tentative forefoot over the edge, then, after a moment's pause, drop it lightly down, then the other, drawing her benth'ind lees far under her, thus carrying me on a nearly level saddle down the worst and steepest places. Alice MacGowan. VOMITniQ IN COKSUMPTIOir. A Way to Cure tlio Tronble Tbnt Draffs Down the Vitality. New York Herald. It is well known how obstinate vomiting sometime is in consumptive persons and how difficult it is to stop it; and a consumptive person who vomits can no longer keep up strength, aud loses from that very fact the greater part of his ability to struggle against the action of the bacilli. For the treatment of this vomiting Mr. Tison recommends pills containing one cen tigramme of the hydrochlorate of cocaine, and one centigramme of extract of opium. The pills should be given ten minutes before food is taken, and five or six pills can be taken in the 24 hours. This treatment also succeeds in other chronic diseases that are accompanied by vomiting. This is a very simple treatment and one that can be easily tried, but I should not like to vouch for the fact that it will succeed every time, as the frequent failures of the nume'rous drugs that are recommended for the same purpose have made me extremely skeptical. The Aye Have It. Detroit Free Press. Moved and supported, that the first news paper in America which makes the first fall reference to "golden-hued autumn, " "soughing winds of fall," or "the embers of the dying year," be fined the cost of two old-fashioned glue-and-molasses rollers for a Washington hand-press. AT THE OPERA. rWRITTEN TOR Till DISPATCH.! "The lights flashed and the music rang. And the stjge was all aglow; But the real heart of the woman there Nobody cared to know.". A happy maid with dusky, drooping head; The rings of chestnut hair close 'gainst it laid; Above a creamy wrap whose lining red Caresses round gloved arms but half dis played. Her Spanish fan. all black, of matchless lace. Now cools, now coyly hides a glowing cheek, Where smile to Brighter smile elves ready place. As youth's swift thought and swifter impulse speak. Ah, sunny child, whose blushes come aud go, Why does my heart your heart so long to know? Out o'er the court where mimic moonlight falls. From Minister casement leans fair "Elsa" there Her witching plaint Is breathed. Above the stalls Throbs each fond note upon the perfumed To listening maid, what Is this soft delieht, Stirring the chaste pulsations of her heart? She knows not why this love song in the night Seems to her life some newly wondrous part. Oh, mimic Elsa, loved and passing falrl Oh, dark-haired maid, who listers breathless therel There's one. who waching her has waited long. To see her child heart wake to woman's crown; He blesses with brave thenks the prlma's song As shyly two soft eyes droop slowly down. And when the Swan Knight gathers to bis heart The sunny head of his Brabantlan bride The lover watches, not the singer's part. But the far sweeter woman at his side. Oh, mimic knight! Oh. maid with golden hair! , Ob, you who woo the dark-eyed curl, beware! The music swings and swirls, the lights burn low; The music gasps and dies, tbo lights flash - high. , The vast throng through the spacious foyer go. Wrapped close, as carand carriage clatter hy. A dreamy light subdues the soft brown eyes. Her stalwart lover's heart exultant stirs; She speaks his eager soul in auibustt lies "IX bleaehed, my hair would be the shade of hers And, Tom.'all sentiment was quite in vain With Lohecgrin'slheel catching In bis train!" V J" i-COEA-BTOABS WHEELSB. 28, 1890, MASCULINE FEMALES. Tbe Fellow Who Gels Tied Up to One for Life is lo be Pitied. MEN ADMIRE WOMANLT WOMEN. As Fast Reforms Were Attended by Ex tremes bo 13 it Just Now. A HAPPI MEDB TBE TRUE P0SIT10S rWBITTEN FOB TBI DIari.TCB.1 A rapidly advancing age is liable to pro duce incongruities. When the season is moist aud warm rank weeds grow easily, and it is extremely difficult for the farmer to keep them down. Every relorm in the world's history, has been productive of ab normally developed aud excessively pro gressive ideas, many of which happily reach no fruition. The modern cry of woman's rights and feminine equality has given us the masculine woman, a creature feared by many and loved by few. Between tbe in sipid nonentity.whose ignorance is her-chief attraction, and the know-all woman, who parts her hair like a man and strides along the street with Amazonian gusto, there is a very wide gulf. In the center of the chasm is a broad and beautiful platform, all decked with flowers and beauty, upon which I think woman ought to walk. A simpering idiot, like Mrs. Henry Wood's Isabel, who didn't know whether or not to order a whole cow from the butcher.s at one time, is an object of pity, if not of scorn. The woman who presumes upon her too much boasted "intuition," (a theory which, like manyothers, is at times mythic al) is just as obnoxious. To define wo man's true position is no easy matter, be cause Associations and circumstances have so much to do with it. Woman is a pecu liar, and sometimes a very illogical and in consistent piece of humanity. I know I am treading on very dangerous ground. I will be careful. Fluttered Into Insanity. The strong-minded, masculine woman I have in view is to be found in many places. If it happens to be in the church, while it may not be the pastor's duty to pray that the Lord will take her out, such an event could hardly be looked upon in the light of a serious calamity. It is not my misfortune at this time to be thus afflicted, but I have known cases of this kind, and can to some extent sympathize with those who have this to endure. The masculine woman presumes upon her "intuition," and without logic or thought decides all questions irrespective ot other people's experience. A great deal of this nonsense is tbe result of what we men call "gallantry." The average male speak er, seeking to gain the favor of the opposite sex by "flattery, makes extravagant state ments with regard to her "perceptive facul ties," until she thinks it is really so, and acts accordingly. I would accord to woman just as high a sphere in the intellectual world as it is pos sible for her to fill. Hot for a moment should sex stand in the way of mental supe riority having its meed of" honor. On the other hand, it is only equitable that sex should not be allowed to claim superiority because of the existence of some cheap, so called axiom about "intuition." Granted that woman has fiue intuition, does it not, as a matter of course, depreciate with every stride she takes toward masculinity? If lemininity is the source of this mysterious flow ot perceptibility, surely it loses its power in proDortion as she becomes manly. Tbrre Kinds ofEsotisti. An anonymous writer says: "There are three sorts of egotists. Those who live them selves and let others live; those who live themselves and don't let others live, and those who neither live themselves nor let others live." Save me from the two latter. An egotistical man is a sad sight, but a woman who'can thus be justly catalogued is almost past redemption. Argument is to her like water on a duck's back. Logic is an absurdity. You cannot convince her. She has thought it all out, has in fact done all the thinking, and it is very little use for anybody else to trouble himself. She is one of those of whom it may justly be said: When she will, she will, you may depend on't, And when she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't. Happily this kind of a woman is a com patative rarity, but our boasted advance ment may produce her with more luxuriance than is desirable. Time was when the American sneietv woman kept herself comparatively secluded. The sun was not allowed to shine upon her. Her sole aim in life seemed to be to preserve a complexion of face delicate in tint and contour, and this she did by taxing the system in all other respects. This was wrong, morally and physically. Of course it was followed by a re'volution, and as all revolutions areapt by their very impetuosity to gain too much momentum, of course this did. The rosy-cheeked English woman, with her pink and white face, was pointed to as an example of what American women should be. And then our American women accepted the delusion that all tbat was nec essary to gain this English comolexion was to waltc so many miles a day, and spend a goodly portion of their time in the open air. In moderation this is all very proper, but our climate is not suitable for such delicate tints, if too much of it be used. It is too dry, too full ot something which irritates the nerves and makes them da donble duty. It is easier to walk ten miles in England than five miles in the United States. Car ried to extremes, physical exercise has a tendency to uuhinge a frail woman and masculinize a strong one, and we men don't want it, so therel A Chance for Reform. ' With the last two words a woman, tbat is some women, would consider the question settled, and that further argument was un necessary, but I' have not done with the woman I am after yet.'. What with tbe craze for semi.nndity at the seaside, and nudity without much "semi" in the ball room, coupled with tbe fact tbat soma of the fair sex are anticipating riding horseback a la masculine, is it not about time a halt was called? The vigorous and heroic words on this subject Irom a noble woman's pen, in a popular magazine, are very timely. No man in the lower or middle walks of life would care to see his mother, wife or sister in such positions as those mentioned. Why should aristocratic people presume to do tliings.that are immodest, vulgar and sug gestive? I don't believe in mock modesty or puritanio prudery, but anything which unsexes a woman should be condemned, and is discountenanced mentally, if not morally, by all thinking men. Man's better nature revolts against such exhibitions as have pre vailed along the seashore tbe past summer. His baser nature may possibly have appre ciated them, but it seems to me that lair woman's mission should be to stimulate the better and seek to minimize tbe baser. A Sad Speciacl. The Lord oity the man with a masculine wife. I once married a couple in Kew Jersey, and if ever I sympathized with any poor fellow it was this one. Tbe woman made the arrangements, and the poor idiot came up to the scratch like a game chicken with a broken wing aud an eye missing. When I-asked him if he wanted to be mar ried he said, "Yees, I reckon so," and then he edged himself forward and plighted his vows in the humblest possible manner. He promised to "love, cherish and support her in sickntss and health." She promised to "honor, love, etc." The fee wjs so small that I forget whether he or she paid it, but I think it was she. X remember it was accompanied by a promise that it would be considerably enlarged when they got "set tled." Like the restless, tossing ocean, they have not settled yet, and it is many ?'ears ago cow. In all probability the poor ellow it dead and buried long before this. As be left my residence, led away by the giant bride, in all the proud dignity of her masculine womanhood, my warmest solici tude went out to the poor victim. I almost hope he library totterintr know of no fate more terrible than falling into the outstretched arms of a manly woman, and if I had an euemy. and was by nature revengeful, this would be the Cite I should desire for him. A Hrpnotlzrd Nonentity. What a poor, shriveled-ap mortal tbe henpecked husband isl He has no soul. He is a hypnotized nonentity. His wife may De a very small woman in stature, and he may be a very giant, but it makes no difference. She will either have her way or tbe hysterics, or possibly both. If a woman of this kind gets the upper hand the hus band might almost as well commit suicide, if it were not contrary to the laws of both God and man. What a blessing that this species js a rara avis, and tbat so many of our homes are charmed and warmed by the sweet angels who administer to our necessi ties with the hand o'lnve. Young woman, if you want a husband cul' tivate feminine graces. Athletic sports in moderation are all well enough, but there is a point where man despises tbe prowess of woman in a physical sense. Young men may and do like the companionship of a young Amazonian lor a summer day's jaunt, but as a companion for life, as a home bird, one to cherish and care for, one to grace the home and .make it a paradise on earth, he wants a woman. He doesn't care very much about her being a lady, that is to say, a lady in our modern idea of what consti tutes one. He does nut want a doll to dress and fool with, but a woman with a woman's heart and a woman's instinct. Many a brave and manly girl wonders why the boys pass her for more retiring and gentle maid ens. She need not wonder long it she will only remember that of all things in this life the average man dislikes a masculine wo man. The Countby Paeson. A VEEY SEH8IBLE EACE. f Colored ffopln K 11 Whit and Blncki, bill N.ffr Kill TIienuelTes. St. Louis Globe-Democrat. There are plenty of cases on record in the South in which colored people have been killed by members of their own race, bnt a negro seldom, if ever, commits suicide. I know of no nationality or race in which self-murder is so rare, and tbe reason is, of course, the extreme philosophy which char terizes the colored man or woman's every thought There may be a good deal of grumbling, but so long as the next meal ahead is pro vided for, there is nothing so much as solic itude, let alone anxiety, and just where de spair can be found in a colored man is hard to say. The negro may labor under a good many disadvantages, but he certainly is ahead of his white brother in the matter of enjoying himself heartily on the least pos sible provocation, and of never thinking of such a thing as meeting trouble half-way. GENIUS EE0M TEE LOWLY. Men Who.e Kimii Are Fid liar Thronga ontiho World Had Bamble Parents. Br. hoalt Fost-Ulspatch.) Christopher Columbus was the son of a weaver, and also a weaver himself. Clande Lorraine was bred a pastry cook. Cervantes was a common soldier. Homer was the son of a farmer. Demosthenes was the son of a cutler. Oliver Cromwell was tbe son of a brewer. Howard was an apprentice to a gro cer. Franklin was a journeyman printer aud son of a tallow chandler and soap boiler. Daniel Defoe was a hosier and son of a butcher. Cardinal Wolsey was the son of a butcher. Lncian was the son of a maker of statuary. Yirgil was the son of a porter. Horace was the son of a shopkeeper. Shakespeare was the son of a wool stapler. Milton was the son of a money scrivener. Popp was the son ot a merchant. Kobert Burns was the son of a plowman in Ayr shire. THE LATEST LIFE BOAT. It Comi.tn of Two ;liell, tbe Inner One Fixed to May Rlslit Side Vp. Illustrated News or the World. Boots to put on the feet for the purpose of walking upon the water, water tricycles and bicycles are already known. A surprising sort of life boat is made of two cylindrical shells, one inside of the other, and, no mat ter how often the outer shell may roll over, the passengers in tbe inner shell, which is bung like a pendulnm, must always remain right side up. Tbe great trouble about life boats at sea js that they are apt to turn bottom upward or get swamped in being launched; but this trouble is obviated by a craft of the sort that has two air-tight cylinders for sides, and is right side np no matter how it falls into the water, which automatically sets the boat into shape to receive its passengers and crew, the oars being ready fastened in their places for rowing. THE UHEOBTTJNATE MARY. Tomb of the Secretary ortbe Queen of Scot and Ite storr. Tbe romantic history of tbe unfortunate, but certainly not innocent, Queen of Scot land, who suffered 19 years' captivity as an enemy of onr jealous "Queen Elizabeth, and was finally beheaded at Fotherin gay Castle in 1587, has long been M,,,, f$ Tomb of Queen ilary't Secretary. a theme of compassionate declamation and ot controversial discussion, One of her con fidential servants, who escaped to Flanders, and who probably knew niauy of her secrets, outlived his royal mistress many years, and his last resting-place has now been found. Mr. Villiers Sankev writes from La Hulpe, in Belgium: "Through M. Dricot, a master builder, I have made a very iuter ing discovery in the churchyard here namely, the tomb of Charles B.iillie, secre tary to Mary Quten of Scots. Over it is a stone cross, betwet two feet and three feet high, bearing the following incription 'Cy-gistr. Char. Baillly, secretaire de la Beine d'Ecosse, decapitee en Augleterre pourlafoy Catboliqne, qui trepassale27 Xbre,1624,aiede8l" ifj Etta WMfk p-tco MmI. wrW I 91" iwwk-' a vi' i If Iff vj - x,0 V MPSIC IN OUR, ALLEY. The Two Annies Forever on the Air in the Gladsome Betreat. A BAND THAT IS PRIVILEGED. Notes That Called Up Visions of Beautj Only to Disappoint. THE PEAISES OP SIE PAT H'ffALLT IWKITTra TOB THX DISrATCB.1 No. 4. "She-e-'s my swee-ee-tbeart. Tin her-r-r beaut Shee-e-e'a my A-a-annle, Pm her-r-r Jo-o-ot Na-ow we'll ma-j-arry Nayver-r-r tOK)o par-rt; Li-ittle Annie Rooney she is My swee-ee-thearm." The above is an attempt to render on pa per the singing of a popular refrain by Misa Maude Muldoon, of Our Allev. Miss Mnl doon is one of the Alley musicians. She has a rival in the Cast Iron and Kaiser Wil helm Brass Band, whose headquarters are a few doors below, aud another in tbe solitary concertina player, who resides tin the first floor front in the house across the way. Bnt Miss Muldoon, when she gets a fair chance, can beat either or both of her com petitors. Give her ten minutes' practice on her mother's first-floor lady .boarder's un tuned pianb, and she will silence any Teu tonic trombone that ever roared. The first floor boarder, however, does not wish Miss Maude to use her "darling instrument" for practicing purposes; and it is only when tbe owner of tbe piano is out that the fair girl dares to tinkle its keys. The first-floor boarder's husband was a music teacher, and he bequeathed his sole (undisputed) piece of property the piano to his beloved wife. She cannot play a note, bnt she keeps the instrument, partly in remembrance of Sig nor Muldnnio, and mainly because she can never find any dealer enterprising enough to purchase it. she has two tunes. She objects to Maude's style of perform ance, but when her back is tnrned Maude has a splendid tune, and the aged piano a very bad quarter ot an hour. Maude in dulges in two tunes, and only two. They are "Annie Laurie" and "Annie Booney. She tries both with perfect impartiality, and has often been heard to sing the former to mnsic ot the latter, or to warble the latter to the former's delightlnl strains. The philosopher crowlingly explains that the reason for this extraordinary exchange is tbe fearof Miss Muldoon that if she lays all her musical powers at the feet of one Annie, the other Annie will grow jealous after the old time fashion of femininity. So Anuie of Maxwellton and Annie of the Bowery cannot complain of nnfair treatment at tbe hands or lips of Miss Maude Muldoon. Maude's rendition of "Annie Laurie" without a piano, for she sometimes spares us the additional infliction of that wretched instrument's "rum-tnm-tum"-ing, is superb. When she is washing in the back kitchen, it runs like this: "Likedooon the gowinglyin"' splash thump splash "is the fall of her fairy feet" (bump, bump, as the fairy's ele phantine pedal extremities kiss the floor; "and like winds in summer si-highing, her voice is low and swe-eet" (which, it must be observed, the singer's is not); "her voice is low and swe-eet, and she's all the wor-reld to nie-e" (splash, splash, bang) "and for little Annie Booney wad I lay me down an' dee will you lave go o' that basket,tye little divil, or I'll warm your ear for yez." This to her small brother, Michael. A MAZE OJ- aiEtODT. The Cast Iron and Kaiser Wilhelm band of our alley is a great institution. To hear it in the calm summer time, when darkness has overshadowed the land, or whenMhe fragrant odors of the alley's fauna and flora permeate the atmosphere, to hear it at such a period is to remain awake all night. It is impossible to sleep and give all one's soul to raptnre when the band plays "Die Wacht Am Khein" or "Vaterland." "Music hath charms to soothe," as we all know, and also "to soften;" butalack, it en tirely fails to soothe the sleepless poet, or to soften the strident blasphemy of our friend, the philosopher. The alley has compl uned over and over again of the C. L and K. W. Band; hnt tbe landlord gets good pay from tbe bandsmen, so he refuses all petitions for their eviction. "I like to patronize the arts an' sciences," he says, "so I'll let all them play all the music they want. See?" As for the concertina player, he is harm less. No one objects to him but the philoso pher, who objects to everything on princi ple. When he first came we all felt that he must have a terrible load upon his heart. The airs he played were filled with such de spairing melancholy, such passionate yearn ing, that every maiden in the alley knew at once that he mnst beat least a broken hearted corsair or expatriated Cbilde Harold iu diguUe. Even the philosopher was at first touched. "Poor thing," he growled, "he plays as ii he hadn't had a square meal for months." NOT EXACTLT CHILDE HAEOLD. But one day we saw the concertina player. He was four feet one inch in height and very nearly three feet in width. Under his arm he carried a big parcel of steak and onions for cooking purposes, and behind trotted his fat and florid spouse, wheeling a case of lager beer in a baby's perambulator. AH the alley felt grieved, and even in sulted, at tne SDectacle. O:' course. there are many other musicians in the alley. Little Michael Muldoon plays thejews-harp melody is deeply imbedded in tbe souls of the Muldoon family. Then the colored settlement are great banjo play ers, aud the Italian colony possesses a barrel organ. There was a monkey attached to the organ some years ago, but he died of old age, and now the organ can appearin pnblio no more. Mr. Timothy J. Flannigan has a "real Cremona" fiddle, and knows how to play the wailing melodies of "Ould Ireland" thereon, while the flute, which the young German bar-tender ptays at No. 9, is a charming addition to the concert. Then there is a nation of sparrows in the alley,! which lends its chirping to swell the tide oi melody. Sl'NAtLT IN OUE ALLEY. The following lyric was composed by one of tbe fairest maidens in the Alley. It com memorates tbe virtues of the Alley Apollo, a certain Mr. Patrick McNally, for whose six feet of stalwart manhood both Philoso pher aud Bhymster have tbe greatest possi ble admiration and respect. Headers of Henry Carey's delightful old song will at once perceive the vast superiority of the new version, which is given below; I. Of all the boys in love with me There's none like Pat McNally; He is tbe best ot all my beux. And be boards down in our alley. There's not a hizb-toned dnde in town Can match with Pat McNally; He Is tbe best ol all my beaux. And he boards down in our allevf 11. His father works in ilooney's mm And sometimes gets a jag ou; While Pat himself for Bung & Co Conducts a brew'ry wagon. -The politicians in tbe ward liave hopes of Pat McNally; Oh! he's tbe best ot all my beaux. And he boards down tn our allay! III. Of all tbe days within the week We've only got one gay day: And that's tbe day comes last of all. The "lelieri" call It pay-dav! For on that dar I see tbe play. Along with Pat McNally: He Is the best of all my beaux, And ho boards down in our alley! ir. We like to sit, and peanuts eat While looking at tbe ballet: There's not a "feller0 in the gods Can "cat-call" line McNally. Tbe neighbors jeer, bnt never fear I'll marry Pat McNally. And we willyent a second floor And boartT down la our alley! Philosopher ass Bhtxstzs. wmmmtBmmmieammmuaHHamHammmmmmmKjmmjiAEM
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers