lV..?.3...
B. F. BOHWEIEB,
THE OON8TITUTION-THE UNION AND THE ENFORCEMENT OP THE LAWS.
VOL HI.
MIFFLINTOWIS. JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. SEPTEMBER 28. 1898.
NO. 42.
V
HAMGL'
feOilLlll ,
CHAPTER XIII.
Mrs. Callander waa deeply wounded
and hmnillated by her ton's refusal t
hold any communication with her. Ilei
first care waa that no one should suspect
the estrangement. For this object, un
u the ajTice of ne clerical counselor,
he resolved to winter abroad, some
where on the Riviera, where It might be
uppoeed Colonel Callander would join
her.
She apoke frankly to Henrietta Oake
ley, but to no one else. Tbe sympathetic
feeling for Dorothy, for her grandchil
dren, which seemed to aoften and human
ize her at first, hardened Into her usual
imperious coldness. Why should she dis
tress heraelf about the Bister and chil
dren of a woman who had so turned her
on against her that the desperate grief
of the mourning widower refused conso
lation from his own mother?
Callander bid both Henrietta and hia
sister-in-law farewell with more compos
ure than they expected. He thanked them
briefly for their kindness, and promised
to write from time to time.
When he waa gone, the two weeping
women took counsel with Standish, Hen
rietta describing the dowager's unfriend,
ly aspect. It waa then decided that Dor
othy should take up her abode with tbe
children, as soon as Mrs. Callander had
left the hotel, while Miss Oakeley went
op to town, and, with the help of Stan
dish, should find a suitable house for the
winter, aa Henrietta Oakeley 'a last orig
inal i.lea waa to derote heraelf to "that
dear Dorothy and those sweet, mother
less pets!" To Standish ahe was quite
confidential, and remarked with her usu
al amiable candor: "Of course, London U
the best place for us. If Herbert comes
Iwck he will, of course, come to London,
and if I want a little change, I can easily
go to and fro. Then Mr. Egerton, after
the first wretchedness of this terrible
affair Is past, will probably renew his
attentions to Dorothy, who had much bet
ter marry him; and London is the best
place for a trousseau.'
"You are looking Tery far ahead," re
turned Standish, almost amused at her
practical view of thmga In spite of her
sincere sorrow. "It does not strike me
that Egerton has much chance. Dorothy
never liked him much, and now this cruel
grief seems to have turned her in son
inexplicable manner against him."
Ready money is tbe true Aladdin's
Lamp. Before its potent touch moun
tains themselves and difficulties melt
way.
In two days Mins Oakeley-fistT round a
"suitable furnished house, large enough for
her needs, and somewhat old-fashioned.
In a street leading from Kensington Gore,
near enough to Kensington Gardens tc
insure tbe children air and exercise, and
sufficiently removed from the noise of tLe
main roadway to be quiet.
Miss Oakeley was solacing herself with
a cup of tea after a long day's shopping
and transacting various business connect
ed with the house she had taken, when
Standish, who had been with her In the
forenoon, waa ushered Into her sitting
room.
"What has happened?" was her ques
tion as soon as she looked in his face.
"Callander has given them the slip. He
is off by himself to Paris. I found a not
from his men of business at my rooms
when I returned after leaving yon at the
bouse agent's this morning, and on going
there heard that he had started this morn
ing, leaving very distinct directions re
specting money matters, letters, etc He
had spent several hours with them the
day before yesterday. He had a short
codicil put to his will, and regulated some
affairs; among other things he directed
that in what concerned Dorothy I was to
be consulted. Dobson, the head of the
firm, quite laughed at the idea of his not
being able to take care of himself. Ha
said that, though terribly crushed and
depressed, he never saw a man la a mora
thoroughly sane condition. Callander left
an address in Paris, and will writs) from
thence. He sent off old Collins to Ford-i,-a.
Dorothy will be horribly frightened
v. hen he arrives."
"And Mr. Egerton, what does he say?"
Egerton seems in a bad way. I went
round to see him snd found him very
queer. Callander sent him a note, saying
thut be wanted no companionship. Eger
Uu could not, I think, have accompanied
him. His man, a German, says he caught
a severe chill; at any rate, he Is in a high
lever, unci more in want of control than
lir Callander."
"How very dreadful?' cried Miss Oake-l-y.
"That poor Mr. Egerton has really
Vn, niui-h feeling! One would not have
expected it from him. Who is with him?
He ought to have some one to take care
of him."
"He has resolved to go into a hospital
into a private room, of course. lie sy
he will be guarded there against prying
relatives. He has no very nes relations;
but he seems nervously anxious to b
bliivl.led from them."
"How very strauge! Surely he hat
wine old housekeeper, Borne faithful
run , who could come to him!"
"Probably, but not in London; he hoi
no town house, you know."
"It is all ao dreadful. Nothing but mis
fortune seems to follow u. I am quite
frightened at the klea of Herbert golus
off alone."
"I am not sure, after all. that It may not
be better for him to depend on htaneeir,
to be away from any who are associate1
with tliis terrible tragedy."
"I will get away as early aa I can to
morrow, for I am sure poor dear Dor4"'
will be dreadfully distressed when Col
lins returns."
This was not, however, the effect pro
duced on Dorothy's mind by the sudden
nppearance of Callander's old servant;
she was supremely thankful that, anyhow.
Egerton was prevented from accompany
ing lier brother-in-law.- '-
With hex suspicions, it seemed too pain
rul anomaly that Egerton should be
ei-ied es the consoling friend of the Be"
ft-aved husband.
CHAPTEB XIV. "'t.1
The first lengthening days "P"?
have a saddening effect on those who
have Buffered. To Dorothy, and. Indeed,
to bee affectionate friend Henrietta,
as a melancholy period. Tbe little ones
fcad ceased to ask for "Papa" or "Mam
ma." and her guardian's visits were the
uiy bits of sunshine In Porothy'a US
watched with almost motherly Inter-
the growth of the baby boy, the un
folding of the little girl's Intefllgeocft.
Bat the supreme solace was the warm.
tWehtfui srsaosthy oi Sadit. TfeeSr
conversations were always a source oi
tranquil pleasure, but when he did not
come for two or three days, her sense of
desolation was almost Insupportable.
Meanwhile, Standish found his position
improved, his prospects brightening, since
his successful conduct of business con
fided to him in Berlin and Vienna, also
tbe amount ct work be had to attend to
wcj greeJy incVeased, so the time fce
could place at hia ward's disposal was less
than formerly.
Hastening one dim afternoon up Pall
Mall, and looking out for an empty han
som, he cam. suddenly face to face with
Egerton.
He knew the figure and bearing, but
was almost uncertain aa to the Identity of
the face, so changed was it In many ways.
The large eyes were sunken, and had a
pahied, bunted expression. The cheeks
looked hollow, the clear, olive tint had
become a dusky pallor, a large mustache
hid his mouth and altered him still more.
"Why, Egerton !"
"StnndlKh! I was on my way to leave
my card at your lodgings to let you know
I was in town."
"I am very glad to see yon. When did
ron come up?"
"Yesterday. I am putting up at Long's.
I have given up my rooms hi the Albany.
I am thinking of trying a little elephant
shooting in Africa if Callander does not
want me. I had a letter from him a cou
ple of days ago. Which way are you go.
lug? I will come with you."
"Dorothy had a few lines from him, too,
last week," said Standish, as they walked
on; "he had been to see his mother at
Nice, and spoke of returning to England."
"So he does to me. He Is, for the first
time, anxious to know what success has
attended our efforts. I trust he will re
turn quite himself."
There was an Indescribable melancholy
in Egerton's voice that struck Standish,
and he felt some surprise as well as in
creased interest In his companion.
"How Is Miss Wynn?" continued Eger
ton; "I have heard of her now and then
J from Miss Oakeley, and I should greatly
(ike to see ber before I leave England if
she will see me."
This was said m a constrained voice,
with pauses and breaks, aa though he
forced himself to nttee the words me
chanically. "Just now, I am sure Dorothy wiH not
ee you or any one. Tbe boy is rather
erionsly ill with bronchitis rather a bad
business for so small a chap. Hia aunt
never leaves him. It would be an awful
&hocJ ',o Callaade to flsid no
on. It is all very hard on such a mere
girl as Dorothy. But she has more of a
backbone than her sweet, pretty slater
had "
"Yes, yes," Interrupted Egerton, hastily.
"Tell me, how is it that flighty Miss Oake
ley has stuck so steadily to her role of
comforter?"
"Her heart Is better than her head."
returned Standish. "Henrietta Oakeley
has proved herself a capital woman. I
have grown quite fond of her. She would
make aa admirable wife to any man who
knew how to manage her."
"Oh, Indeed 1" with a languid smile.
TeH me more about the report of that
consul of which you wrote to me. I don't
understand why they have not made more
diligent jSearch for that fallow 70a all
ssapeet Pedro."
"W. suapect! Don't you? Come snd
dme with me at the club to-night and we
will discuss It all; now I must go on to
Miss Oakeley'a. I have not heard how
the boy is to-day."
"Let me come with you. I must see
them again." It seemed to Standish from
the tone of his voice that the necessity
was not an agreeable one.
"Come, by all means," he returned.
They were soon bowling alone towards
Kensington.
Miss Oakeley was not at home when
they reached the house. But Collins, who
remained as the factotum, protector and
semi-dictator of the joint household, said
that she would be in soon.
The gentlemen were therefore shown up
to the drawing room, where a tea table
was set ready for the absent mistress.
"I will go and see Dorothy, If you
don't mind, Egerton." said Standlnh, af
ter moving somewhat restlessly to and
fro, looking at the papers and periodicals
that lay about. "She generally mounts
guard about this time, and tbe nurse,
you remember, Mrs. McIIugh" Egertor
nodded hia bead with a slightly impa
tient movement "goes to tea."
"Don't mind me," returned the other.
Standteh had hardly left the room when
Mlsa Oakeley entered it; she was richly
dressed, with abundance of black fur on
her cloak and round her throat, and look
ed very handsome.
"Oh! dear me, Mr. Egerton, I am so
glad to see you. I could hardly believe
my ears when Collins said you were here.
But do you know you are looking fright
fully ill? You don't mind my saying so,
do you? You ought to go away to some
warm, cheerful place, lteally. the gloomi
ness of winter in England is quite sui
cidal, don't you think so?"
"I cannot return the compliment. Miss
Oakeley I You are looking remarnaMy
welll Xt Is an age since we met. I am
.ortr I cannot aee Miss Wynn. and tor
tbe cause the little boy. Standish ten.
me. Is seriously ill."
"He is, indeed, but he is a shade better
to-day. Dorothy bos been so unhappy
about him. It would have been terrible
if Herbert had returned to find no bay
boy. and Aunt Callander would have been
sure to say he died from neglect. I am
very fond of Aunt Callander; she has
many good points, but be does fancy
such queer things! I am dying to see
Herbert again! Of course, it bas been
an awful blow, but men don't grieve for
ever. He is really a young man, and
ought to throw himself Into bis career.
And he to such a good fellow! Yon know
my deep interest in hkm is of old date;
won't you take a cup of tea?"
"No no, thank yon," and Egerton, whe
had started up and gone to the fireplace
while ehe spoke, now sat down and kept
very still while Henrietta Insisted on giv
ing htm some tea, and cross examined
him as to Ms health, his life at hia coun
try seat, and a dosen other topics, while
he answered In monosyllaAlea and looked
as If he were on the rack.
Meantime, Standish mounted the stairs
to the day nursery, where be had geieral
iv spoken to Dorothy during the boy's
mneseT The Rttle fellow bad taken a se
, t cold, which turned to bronchitis.
"Oh. Paul, he la better 1" exclaimed
Dorothy, from the loner room, as soon aa
W at the door.
"That's right: I thought the little fel
low would pull through; be is a regular
Trojan."
"He was in great danger yesterday, but
the night was better, and now he breathes
much more freely."
"And now, I hope you will take some
care of yourself, Dorothy! Y'ou look sa
If yon had not slept for a week."
"Not so long as that, but I should like
a nice quiet sleep without any dreams,"
and she sighed.
"Are you still so frightened at night?"
asked Standish, looking down into her
eyes with a glance so wistfully compas
sionate that Dorothy felt tbe delightful
sense of hia aifeotlonate sympathy send a
thrill of pleasure shivering through ber.
"No, I am less frightened, but I dream
continuously."
"I have left a visitor with Miss Oake
ley," resumed Standish, placing a chair
for Dorothy, while he stood by the high
fender. "A visitor who wishes to see
I you."
uorotuy looked up with a startled ex
pression. "Who la it?"
"Egerlon; I met him just now by acci
dent, and he came on here with me."
Dorothy rose, and came beskle Standish
before she replied; then she said in n low,
rapid voice; "I cannot see him, Paul. You
w ill not ask me. It Is quite quite impossi
ble." "I shall not ask you to do an thing
you don't like, Dorothy, but later 011 you
really must get over this prejudice. You
must see Egerton some day."
"I will try," she said with a kiud of
alight shiver, "but you must give me
time."
"He waa very fascinating at first," said
Standish with a slight smile. "I remem
ber your comparing him to various heroes
let me see Don John of Austriu, Sir
Philip Sidney, and "
"Oh, do not talk of that time, Paul;
It was too too happy."
"Forgive me, dear Dorothy," takirg her
hand, "I will not tease you to do any
thing you do not like; promise to come
for a long walk with me to-morrow, if
the boy continues to hold his ground.
Y'ou must not play tricks with your
health; you axe not exactly a giant, my
dear ward."
Dorothy. made no reply; she stood very
still, her hand in that of Standixh, while
he looked with grave, thoughtful consid
eration at the slight girlish figure, the half
averted, pathetic face, the sweet quiv
ering mouth. It was sad to see tbe traces
of sorrow on so young a creature, espe
cially as there was some element in her
sorrow which he could not quite make
out. Standish sighed a short, deep sigh,
at which Dorothy started from ber
thoughts, and withdrew her band.
"I suppose I must go," said Standish.
"If it Is fine to-morrow, will you be ready
for me at two? We will have a ramble
round the gardens."
"Very well, thank yon. Yon are very
good to me, Paul. Can I ever show yon
how grateful I am?"
"Don't talk of gratitude. There can be
no question of such a thing between us."
"Good-by for the present, Paul til to
morrow." Dinner passed heavily enough. What
ever subject Standish started Egerton
let drop, though occasionally he seemed
to spur himself to talk. It appeared to
Standish the longest meal of which he
had ever partaken. Tbe waiter had plac
ed the dessert before them when a tele
gram was handed to Standish, who,
glancing over the Hues, of which there
were several, exclaimed with some excite
ment: "By heaven! we may get a clew
at last! It Is from Enatport. 'Some Im
portant erldenoe offered by a newly ar
rived sailor. Come, if possible..' "
(To be continued.;
Household.
Broiled Halibut. Cut one and a half
pounds of halibut into slices one inch
thick. Rub the fish inside and outside
with pepper and salt; three-fourths of a
tcaspoonful of salt and one-eighth of a
tcaspoouful of pepper will suflice for all
the slices. Butter the broiler on both
sides and cook the fish over a clear fire
from twelve to fifteen minutes. Put on a
hot dish, dot with butter and set in the
oven a minute. Serve garnished withj
points of lemon and parsley.
Tomato Fritters. To one pint of stewed
tomatoes add half an egg, half a teasMHm
ful of soda and flour to make as stiff as
pancakes. Drop by the spoonful into the
lard and fry brown.
Pickled radish pods is another relish
chat is acceptable with meat. Pick two
quarts of the tender green young rods
of the radishes. Soak them in v. eak
brine over night. Scald them in the
brine, which should be made by using
a cup of salt to every gallon of water,
and if they are tender they can be pick
led; if not, they must be set away in the
brine and scalded again. If they are too
salt, soak them in cold water and rinse
and drain them. Prepare the vinrgai
in the same way as for the maatynia
pods and pour it over the radish pods.
lVach Sandwiches. The straw lierry
sandwiches, so called, of the earlier Bea
Kn are now suceeded by a similar ar
ticle with a peach filling. Bread made
of liaking-owder biscuit dough is rid ol
its crust and cut into oblongs. The (teach
es are sliced, then sprinkled with pow
dered sugar ,and if to be specially good,
a lesertsMMinful of whipped cream is
placed on each. They are of course served
separately on small plates and eaten
with a fork, not piled up and handed
around for the finger service so associa
ted with a sandwich in its generic
icnse.
Preserved Figs. The weight of rie
fig in sugar. The figs are soaked in cold
water all night, then let them simmer
till tender. Take them out and cool.
Make a syrup, a cupful of water to
pound of sugar. Put in the figs and let
them simmer ten minutes, Then spread
the figs on dishes in the sun, and add a
little ginger, the juice of two lemons
and the peel of one, to the syrup. When
this thick put back the figs for fifteen
minutes. Put in jars, cover well to the
top with syrup, and seal.
Green Corn Timbales. Beat three eggs
without separating, and one-half of a
teasMMnful of salt, a dash of cayenne,
three-quarters of a cupful of milk and
one cupful of freshly-grated corn. But
ter small-sized timbale moulds and two
thirds fill them with the mixture. Stand
the moulds in a pan, pour boiling water
round them, cover with a buttered paper
and bake in a moderate oven about
twenty minutes or until the centres are
firm. Turn out on a healed platter and
serve with a cream sauce.
A strange custom is followed by Mex
ican fanners. They u! on of one color
'in the morning and another color in th
afternoon. Tln-y do not know why, but
they know that it must be the right
thing to do because their forefathers did
it.
In Sweden there arc floating can
neries. They are small vessels, which
follow fishing fleets, and men on them
can the lish while they are fresh.
The Tartars have a quaint custom of
aking a guest by the ear when inviting
him to eat or drink with them.
The nests of the termites or white
ant are proportioned to the size and
weight of the builders, the greatest
structures in the world.
The moon moves through spnee at the
rate of t t3 feet per second. Its mean
distam-e f Uo ea;-l is iw,850 miles.
RUTH'S
WHEN Rodney Dax came
home from the war without
hia strong right arm Hath
rrevor's friends wondered If she would
marry him.
"Of course she will," Mid the friend
who know her best "Why shouldn't
he? He's the same Rodney Dare now
that he was when ehe promised to mar
ry him. Isn't her
"Yes, but there's a difference," was
the reply. "Then he had another arm
to fight tbe battle of life with. Now
well. I suppose it won't make any dif
ference with Butb. She always was
peculiar."
"Thank God for such peculiarity,"
said her friend. "She wouldn't be the
woman I have always believed her to
be If she refused to marry Mm because
he had lost an arm. She will take Its
place to him. I know Ruth Trevor too
well to believe that the Idea has ever
occurred to her that this loss need make
the sl'ghtest difference In their plans."
And ber friend was right When,
one day, Rodney Dare said to Ruth: "I
have come to tell you that of course I
do not expect to hold you to your prom
ise . to me, under existing circum
stances, if you care to withdraw K."
she rose up before him with something
skin to anger In ber face and looked
blm squarely In the eyes.
"Have I ever given you any reason to
think I cared to withdraw It?" she
asked.
"No," was the reply. "Bat when you
gave It I was a man. Now I am but
part of one."
"I'll take that part of the man that's
left." she said. "It's the part that the
Rodney Dare I love Uvea In. Never
speak of this to me again," ahe added.
And he never did.
But he would not talk of marriage
until he had obtained employment ot
some sort, and for this he began to fit
himself. It was almost like beginning
life over In learning to make one arm
do the work of two, but he had a brave
heart and a strong will, aud love stood
ready to help him In the times when be
felt inclined to become discouraged.
One day Ruth said to him:
"I'm going awny for a nionth or two.
I've bad a letter from Auut Martha,
who lives in tbe prettiest little country
village you ever saw. and she wants
mo to visit her. I shall enjoy a breath
of pure air so much! Only, I wish you
were going with me. Rodney. I shall
think of yon Jack here In the city, and
teel half ashamed of myself for hay
ing such a good time that you cannoi
share."
"I shall share It in thinking bow
much good It is doing you," he said.
"One does not always have to take part
In the pleasures of others to be bene
fited by tbem. There's a sort of relies
Influence, you know."
"That sounds quite maraphyslcal,"
laughed Ruth, "but I think I under
stand what you mean and I promise to
enjoy myself to the utmost In order
that you may feel this 'reflex Influence'
to the fullest extent."
Before Ruth bad been at Aunt Mar
tha's two day a she found that ahe had
been Invited there for a purpose.
"Your cousin nugh is coming next
week," said Aunt Martha. "I wanted
you to meot him. I know you'll Ilka
htm at leat, I hope you will, and the
better you like him tbe better suited
I'll be."
Butb looked at her queatlonlngly.
"You wonder what sort of a plan I
have In my head, I suppose;" said her
aunt "I'm not going to say anything
more about It now, but Hugh knows."
"I infer that it is some sort of matri
monial plan," said Ruth. "If tt la, put
It aside at once! I may like my cousin
Tery much I hope I shall but I coultf
not marry blm."
"Why?" asked Aunt Martha.
"Because I am to marry Rodney
Dare," answered Ruth.
"And who Is Rodney Dare?" demand
ad Aunt Martha.
Then Ruth told her about ber lorer.
"A man with one arm, too!" cried
Aunt Martha, "and a poor man, tooJ
Tou're foolish, Ruth."
'Perhaps so," said Ruth, quietly, but
with a brave steadfastness In her
Tolce. "But, foolish or not, I love him.
I have promised to marry blm and I
shall keep my word."
"You've got the stubbornness of the
Trevors In you, I see," said Aunt Mar
tha, grimly. "But this this obstinacy
of yours may make a great difference
with your future prospects, as well as
my plans. I nave considerable prop
ar:y that must go to the children of my
two brothers. Yon represent one of
them. Hugh the other. I wanted you to
marry each other and keep the prop
erty together. If you persist In your
letermlnatlon to marry tbds Rodney
are, Hugh may get It all."
"Let blm have it," sold Ruth. "All
Die wealth In the world wouldn't lnflu
tnce me In the least In this matter."
"You're a Trevor, all through," said
tunt Martha, angry, yet admiring the
spirit of her niece In spite of herself.
'Well, since you've made up your mind,
se'U let the matter drop; but If you are
oot mentioned In my will you needn't
be surprised."
"I haven't asked to be remembered
In It," said Ruth. "I don't want you to
think for a moment. Aunt Martha, that
I care for your money. I assure you. J
have never given it a thought"
"Perhaps not," responded Aunt Mar
tha, "but money comes handy some
times, and one wants to think twice be
fore throwing away such a chance ar
this."
"I could not change my mind If I
were to think a thousand times," said
Both. "I am Just old-fashioned enough
to Detleve that there are other things
JQore necessary to one's happiness than
ioney." i
"Very well, you'll do as yon choose
.bout It, of course," said Aunt Martha,
frigidly. "But I think my opinion worta j
fonsldeaing, notwithstanding."
Cousin Hugh came. Ruth liked him. I
jot be wasn't Rodney Dare! Millions of j
money wouldn't have tempted her to j
marry Llm if she had bad do lover. 1
&g grasses
LEGACY,
E3
SSrSSrS8BrSrSrlSffli2f2B3S3
"I suppose you haven't changed your
mind about matters and things?" said
Annt Martha, one day. the week before
Ruth went home.
"Not In the least." replied Rot. I
"You're a foolish girt," said Aunt
Martha,
"Maybe, but I think not," responded
Rutb.
When ahe got home she told Rodney
all about Aunt Martha's plana. J
"Do you think I waa foolish?" ah
asked, amfUng into his face.
"I think you're a noble, true-hearted
little woman." he answered, and kissed
her. "I hope you'll never regret giving
up your share of your aunt's fortune
for a man with but one arm to protect
yon with. I feel unworthy of such a
se orifice."
"There was no sacrifice about It,"
I wuu xvuiu. 1 uian t rare ror rne ror-
iuue sua 1 ao care tor you.
Six months later a telegram came
saying that Aunt Martha was dead.
Would Ruth come to tbe funeral?
Ruth went, and after the funeral she
and cousin Hugh sat down In the old
fashioned parlor together, with Aunt
Martha's old lawyer and one or two of
her Intimate friends, to listen to the
mnftln si -..411
In It she bequeathed to Hugh Trevor
"all property now in her possession, ta
which she had Just title and claim,"
with the exception of the old family
Bible. That went to Ruth.
"I have brought my legacy home
with me," she told her mother, on ber
return, as she deposited a package
wrapped in thick brown paper, and se
curely tied up, on the parlor table. On
the wrapper was written: "Ruth Tre
vor, to be gfvsn her, unopened, after
my death," la Aunt Martha's prim
penmanship. ,
"You don't mean to say that you
were left nothing but that?" cried Mr
Trevor.
"It's as much as I expected," answer
ed Ruth. 1
That evening Rodney Dare came In.
Suddenly Ruth bethought ber of the
package, which bad not been opened.
"I must show you my legacy," she
said, bringing the package. "Cut the
strings, Rodney, please."
BODNBT GLANCED OVEB THE HALF
He did so and Ruth took the old worn
RIMa from Its wrannlna'a. As ahe MA
"
so, some papers slipped from between
its pages and fell to the floor.
She
Ons
stooped and gathered them up.
was a somewhat bulky document. The
other was an envelope, on which ber
name waa written.
"Here's a letter from Annt Martha,"
she said, and opened It.
As she read It a tender light came
Into ber face. Then a look of surprise
and bewilderment.
11 aon 1 understand, - sue saia,
looaing trom noaney to ner moiner.
"She says something about
says something about deeds,
What docs she mean by that, I won
der r
Rodney took the large document from
Ruth's lap and unfolded tt and glanced j
over the half-written, half-printed
Page. J
"It means," he said, "that you re a
wealthy little woman In spite of your
self, Ruth. Your Aunt Martha bad
half her property deeded to you be
fore she died. That which she spoke
of In ber will was the other half of it,
which had not been deeded away, and
you, of course, supposed that repre
sented all. She leaves you ber old
home, and other property to its vicin
ity, to the value of a good many thou
sands of dollars, I should say."
"It can't ber' cried Ruth, excitedly.
"And yet It must be so. Read her let
ter, Rodney read It aloud, and maybe
It'll seem clearer to me."
Rodney read:
"My Dear Niece Rutb: I do not think
I have very long to llge, therefore I
shall ao. arrange matters now that
there need be little trouble In disposing
of what I leave behind, when I am
lead. When you told me yon could not
fall In with my plan about a marriage
with Hngh I was Indignant. If I bad
died then, you would have got little
from me If I could have had my way
about it. But by-and-by I began to
think It over and I came to believe that
you were right and I was wrong. I
calculated from the head, you from the
heart, and the heart is to be trusted
most In such matters, I think. I admire
you for your honesty to your woman
hood, and your loyalty to your one
armed lover. You did Just right my
dear niece Just right! and to prove
to you that I bear yon no ill-will for
not falling In with an old woman's
foolish plana, I shall have half mj
property deeded to you at once, ao that,
at any time after my death, which I
have reason to believe may happen at
any time, and suddenly, all there will
be for yon will be to take possession.
God bless yon, dear Bath, aad make
jroo vary happy wits) tJM . BU 290
have chesen. He oncM to be proud of
to loyal-hearted a wife as you will
make him. Sometimes think klndfy of
tbe woman who never got much happi
ness out of Ufa, and may this legacy
bring 70a more enjoyment than It has
mwmv tmtmartft. mm M
1 "Dear Aunt M.rthar ld Ruth, soft
cheeks. "I wish she could know how
much I thank ber for her legacy and
her letter. Do you know, Rodney, I'm
not sure but I value that most?"
For answer he bent and kissed her.
"Your love and loyalty are worth a
thousand legacies," be said. And Rutb
threw ber arms about his neck and
cried: "I'm ao glad for your sake. Rod
neyr New York Ledger.
ORIGIN OF LACE.
Inveatad by a Earopeaa Woasaa as
the Ftfteeath Centary.
In Interesting article on tbe sub-
"I." in the Woman's Home
Companion, Orlena L. Shack-Word, af-
ter BTlnsT history of machine-made
a0" TO "7
"Hand -made lace has a history fat
more fascinating. Some have supposed
that R originated In Egypt, the land
that gave birth to iieariy all the arts;
but search dUlffentlv as von nir and
V - .
you will never discover In mummy's
tomb, on sculptured or painted wall or
In any archaelogical find whatever the
pictorial or aotual remains of this
poetic tissue; neither is there documen
tary evidence of Its presence there.
Gau sea and nets, fine muslins and ex
quisite embroideries, fringes, knotted
j and plaited, you may meet with fre
quently, but this fabric without a foun
dation, this ethereal textile, named by
the Italians punto In aria (stitch in
airj, you will never chance upon. Why?
Because It did not exist before the fif
teenth century; because it was Invent
ed by the European woman, forming
her contribution to the Renaissance,
and was unknown to Orientals, who
have even now no love for Its pale per
fection, and do not use it In their cos
tumes nor In household decorations. Its
lack of color makes It unlovely In their
eyes.
"Fanciful stories have been woven
to account for the invention of tbe art,
and the honor has been claimed by both
Venice ar Flanders. Yet H did not at
once spring into being In full perfec
tion, but was rather an evolution and
came by degrees.
"In punto lagllato (cut point) we first
perceive a groping In Its direction, for
1 with the piercings of white embroidery
- W5ITTES, HALF-POINTED PAOR
we nave a lighter effect In drawn-
work (punto tlrato) another step wa;
..v.m vymwi wiwivf HUVUlCi Bl(!y V
gained, and in reticulated grounds
01
j network we have a decided advance.
J Upon this net the pattern waa darned
In. and In France It was called racls,
the nearest word we have to lace. Aftet
these efforts came, a total emancipa
tion from all foundations, and the pun
to in aria waa an assured fact.
"Tbe first lace, it la thought, wai
made with the needle (point), the pat
tern being traced upon parchment 01
paper and the outline marked by s
, thread caught now and then to the
paper to keep K In place. TTDon this
scaffolding the aught superstructure
was bout, and the method Is still tbe
same. Soon afterward the bobbins
came In as a factor, and the needle
and the bobbins remain to this day the
only means employed to produce hnnd
made lace. So that all of It resolves It
self Into the two generic kinds point,
which Is made by tbe needle, and pil
low, by the bobbins; or there may be
composite article, made by both."
"Hardly Worth While."
The St. Louis Globe-Democrat tellt
what niirnnrta to ha a trim aforv of un I
"Eastern woman" who used to be no
torious among her friends for the long
time It took her to dress. As tbe news
paper puts It, "There was no case oa
record Of a guest Who had been greet
ed under her roof with any degree ol
promptitude." Now she has reformed,
and this Is how the reform came about:
One evening, at a private entertain
ment of some kind, she encountered 1
certain bishop, an old friend of the fam
ily. "Ah, my dear Mrs. Smith," remarked
the ecclesiastic. "How are you? 1
passed your bouse yesterday, and
thought of dropping In to see you.'
"And joa didn't do It! That wut
very unkind of you."
"Well, no. You see, I said to myself
1 have Just one hour to call upon Mrs
Smith. She will take fifty-seven mln
utea to dress. That will leave Just
three for our talk. It la hardly wortt
while.' "
Wornea Growlasr Less Iatellectaa.1
The remarkable discovery has beet
made that women am continual!
growing less and less Intellectual li
comparison with men. In skulls of pre
historic times the difference in capacity
between mala and female skulls wai
85 cubic centimeters, whBe at present
t la from 140 to 220 centimeters.
Waa VWVIUV MV vmnnniiiwii
ed who. Whan ha waa mad, aaU
sM IfHfrH-S
What baa become of tbe old-fashion
SEHMQIIS OF THE DAY.
Subject: "The Art ot Friendship" Got
Your Heart IMg-hc With God and Mna
and This Grace Will Become Kaay Be
mm Ksefclel, Not m J ereinlah-
Text: "A man that bath friends must
show himself friendly." Proverbs xviii., 24.
About the sacred and divine art of making
and keeping friends I speak a subject on
which I never heard of anyone preaching
and yet God thought it of enough impor
tance to put it in the middle of the Bible,
these writings of Solomon, bounded on one
side by the popular Psalms of David, and
on the other by the writings of Isaiah, the
greatest of the prophets. It seems all a
matter ot haphazard bow many friends
ws have, or whether we have any friends
at all, but there Is nothing accidental about
it. There is a law which covers the accre
tion and dispersion of friendships. They
did not "just happen so" any more than
the tides just happen to rise or fall, or the
sua just happens to rise or set. It is a
science, an art, a Ood-glven regulation.
Tell me how friendly you are to others,
and I will tell vou how friendly others are
to you I do not say you will not have
enemies; indeed, the best way to get ardent
friends is to have ardent enemies, if you
get their enmity in doing the right thing.
Good men and woineu will always have
enemies, because their goodness is a per
petual rebuke to evil; but this antagonism
of foes will make more intense tbe love of
your adherents Your friends will gather
I J " - ...WMV. " BB.UO,
closeraround you because of the attacks of
your assailants. The more your enemies
abuse you tbe better your coadjutors will
think of you.
The best friends we have ever had ap
peared at some juncture when we wore
especially bombarded. There have been
times in my life when unjust assault multl-
I tiled my friends as near-as I could caicu
ate, about fifty a minute. You are bound
to some people by many cords that neither
time nor eternity can break, and I will war
rant that many of those cords were twisted
by hands malevolent. Human nature was
shipwrecked about fifty-nine centuries ko,
the captaiu of that craft, one Adam, aud
his first mate running the famous cargo
around on a snag in the river Hldtlekel;
but there was at least one good trait ol
human nature that waded safely hore
from that shipwreck, and that is the dispo
sition to take the part of those unfairly
dealt with. When it is thoroughly demon
strated that some one is being persecuted,
although at the start slanderous tongues
were busy enough, defenders finally gather
around as thick as honey bees on a trellis
of bruised honeysuckle.
If, when set upon hy the furies, you can
have grace enough to keep your mouth
shut, and preserve your equipoise, and let
others fight your battles, you will And
yourself after awhile with a whole cordon
of allies. Had not tbe world given to
Christ upon His arrival at Palestine a very
cold shoulder, there would not have been
one-half as many angels chanting glory out
of the hymn books of the sky, bound In
black lids of midnight. Had It not been
for the heavy ami jagged and tortuous
Cross, Christ would not have been tbe ad
mired and loved of more peside than anv
being who ever touched foot on eithec the
Eastern or Western Hemisphere. Instead. 1
therefore, ot giving up in despair because word God struck the noonday sun. For
you have enemies, rejoice in tbe fact that j the making of the present universe I do
they rally fr yon the most helpful and en- not read that God lifted so much as a fin
thusiastlc admirer.". -Jn other word, -there ger.' The Bible frequently speaks of God's
is no virulence that can hinder my text hand;, and God's arm and God's shoulder
from coming true: "A man that batb and God's foot; then suppose He should
friends must show himself friendly." put hand and arm and shoulder and foot to
it is my ambition to project especially
upon the young a thought which may be
nignly shape their destiny for the here and
tbe hereafter, before you show youraell
friendly you mupt be friendly. I do not
recommend a dramatized geniality. There
is such a thing as pretending to be en rap
port with others, when we are their dire
testructants, and talk against tbem and
wish tbem calamity. Judas covered up
bis treachery by a resounding kiss, and
saresses may be demonloal. Better tbe
mythological Cerberus, the three-beaded
dog of bell, barking at us. than the wolf in
-heep's clothing, its brindled hide covered
p hy deceptive wool, and its deathfal
lowl cadenced into an Innocent bleating.
Disraeli writes of Lord Manfred, who, aft. r
committing many outrages upon the peo
ple, seemed suddenly to become friendly
and invited tbem to a banquet. After
most of the courses had been served be
blew a horn, which was In those times a
signal for the servants to bring on the de
sert, dui in tins case it was the signal fot
assassins to enter and slay the guests. His
pretended friendliness was a cruel fraud;
and there are now people whose smile is s
falsehood.
Before you begin to show yoursell
friendly you must be friendly. Get youi
heart right with God and man, aud this
grace will become easy. You may by your
own resolution get your nature into a
semblance of this virtue, but t ie grace ot
God can sublimely lire you into it. Sailiug
on the Itlver Thames two ve!"-ls ran
aground. Tbe owuersof one got one hun
dred horses, and pulled on the grounded
ship, and pulled it to pieces. The owners
of tbe other grounded vessel waited
till tbe tides came in, and easily floated
the ship out of all trouble. So we may
pull and haul at our grounded human na
ture, and try to get it into better condi
tion; but there is nothing like the oceanlo
tides of God's uplifting grace. If, when
under the flash of the Holy Ghost, we see
our own foibles and defects and depravi
ties, we will be very lenient, and very
easy with others. We will look Into their
characters for things commendatory, and
not damnatory. If you would rub your
own eye a little more vigorously you would
And a mote in it, the extraction of whi.-li
would keep you so busy you would not
have much time to shoulder your broad
axe and go forth to split up the.l.enm in
your neighbor's eye. In a Christian spirit
keep on exploring the characters of those
vuu meet, and 1 am sure von will fin. I
'something in them lit for a foundation ol
friendliness. ;
Vou invite me to come to your country
seat and spend a few days. Thank you! I
arrive about noon of a beautiful summer
day. What do you? As soou as I arrive
you take me out under the shadow of the
great elms. You take me down to the
artificial lake, the spotted trout floating
In and out among the white pillars ot the
pond lilies. You take me to the stalls aid
kennels where you keep your fine stock, :
and here are tbe Durham cattle ana the
Gordon setters: and the high-stopping
steeds, by pawing and neighing, the only
language tbey can spiak, asking for har
ness or saddle, and a short turn down the
road. Then we go back to tbe house, and
you get me in the right light and show me
he Kensetts and the Bierstadts on the
wall, and take me into tbe music room and
show me the bird-cages, tbe canaries iu
the bay window answering the robins in
the tree-tops. Thank you! I never en
joyed myself more in tbe same length ol
time. Now, why do we not do so with the
characters of others, and show the bloom
nd the music and the bright fountains?
No. We say, "Come along, and let me
show you that man's character. Here is a
green-scummed frog-pond, and there's a
filthy cellar, and I guss under that hedge
there must be black snake. Come, and
let us for an hour or two regale ourselves
with the nuisances."
Gb, my friends, better sover up the
faults and extol the virtues; and this habit
once established of universal friendliness
will become as eay as It is for a ayringa
to flood the air with sweetness, as easy as
It will be further on in the season for a
quuil to whistle ui from the gr.iss. Wben
we hear something bad nbout somebody
whom we always supposed to be good, take
out your lead pencil, and say: "Let me
see! Before I accept that baleful story
against that man's character, I will take
off from it twenty-five per cent, for thv
naMt ot exaggeration which belongs to the
man who first told the story; then I will
take off twenty-five per ceut. for the addi
tions which tbe spirit of gossip in every
community bos put upon the original
story; then I will take off twenty-five per
I eent. from the fact that the man may hive
j been put into circumstances of overpower-
I I sg temptation. So I have taken off sev
I nty-flve per cent. But I have not heard
, a Is side of tbe story all, and for that rea-
IOHIHIVOB IIH niDaiDlll R IWBDlJ-UTfl 1
per eent. Ex. use me, air, I don't believe a (
word ot It." 1
lonltakeon me remaining twenty-nve
Do not propaosy misfortune. If you must
be a prophet at all, be an Ezekiel, and not
1 Jeremiah. In ancient times prophets
who foretold evil were doing right, for they
were divinely directed; but tbe prophets of
vll In our time are generally false proph
sts. Real troubles have no heralds running
ihead of their sombre chariots, and no one
Has any authority in our time to announce
:heir oomlng. Load yourself up with hope
ful words and deeds. The hymn once sung
n our churches is unfit to he sung, for it
lays:
We should suspect some danger near,
Where we possess delight.
In o' her words, manage to keep miser
tble all the time. Tbe old song sung at the
pianos a quarter of acenturyago was right:
"Kind words can never die." 8uoh kind
words have their nests In kind hearts, and
when they are hatched out and take wing,
:bey circle rouud in flights that never cease,
and sportsman's gun ennnot shoot them,
snd storms cannot rufltd their wings, and
when they cease flight in these lower skies
of earth, they sweep around amid tbe bigh
sr altitudes of Heaven. At Baltimore I
talked Into a phonograph. lue cylinder
containing the words was sent on to Wash
ington, and tbe next day that cylinder from
another phonograpbio instrument, when
turned, gave back to me the very words I
had uttered tbe day before, and with tbe
same intonations. Scold into a phono
graph, and it will scold back. Pour mild
words into a phonograph and it will return
the gentleness. Society and tbe world aud
the church are phonographs. Give them
acerbity and rough treatment, and acerbity
and tough treatment you will get Imok.
Olve them practical friendliness, and they
will give back practical friendliness. A
father asked bis little daughter: "Mary,
why is it that everybody loves you?" She
answered: "I don't know, unless it is be
cause I love everybody." "A man that hath
friends must show himself friendly-"
We want something like that spirit of
sacrifice for others which was seen In the
English Channel, where in the storm a boat
oontainlng three meu was upset, aad ail
three were in the water struggling for
their lives. A boat came to their relief, and
a rope was thrown to one of them, and he
refused to take It, saving: "First fling it
to Tom; he Is just ready to go down. I can
last some time longer." A man like that,
be he sailor or landsman, be he in upper
ranks of society or lower ranks, will al
ways have plentVrfjf friends. What is true
manward is true Uoilward. We must be
the friends ot Uod if we want Him to be
our friend. We cannot treat Christ badly
all our lives and expect Him to treat us
lovingly. I was reading of a sea light, in
which Lord Nelson captured a French ofll
oer, and when the French officer offered
Lord Nelson bis hauil. Nelson replied,
"First give me your sword, and then give
me your hand." Surrender of our resis
tance to God must precede God's proffer of
pardon to us. Kepentanco before forgive
ness. You must give up your rebellious
sword before you can get a grasp of the
divine band.
Oh, what a glorious state of thluirs to
bavethe friendship of God! Why, we coull
afford to have all the world against us aui
all other worlds against us if we had God
for us. He could in a minute blot out this
universe, and in another minute make a
better universe. I have no Idea that God
tried hard when He made all things. The
most brilliant thing known to us is light,
and for the creation of that He only used
a word of command. As out of a flint a
frontiersman strikes a spark, so out of one
utmost tension, what cculil He not maker
That God of such demonstrated and umle-
monstrated strength, you may have for
your present and everlasting friend, not a
stately and reticent friend, hard to get at,
but as approachable as a country mansion
on a summer day, when all the doors and
windows are wide open. Christ said, "I
am the door." And He Is a wide door, a
high door, a palace door, an always open
door.
If God Is your friend, you cannot go out
of the world too quickly or suddenly, so far
as your own happiness is concerned. There
were two Christians who entered Heaven;
the one was standing at a wiudow in per
fect health, watching a shower, and the
lightning instantly slew him; but tbe
lightning did not flash down the sky as
swiftly as his spirit flashed upward. Tbe
Christian man who died on the same day
next door had been for a year or two fail
ing in health, and for the last three mouths
had suffered from a disease that made the
nights sleepless and the days an anguish.
Do yon not really think that the cine of
tbe one who went instantly was more de
sirable than tbe one who entered tbe shin
ing gate through a long lane of insomnia
and congestion? In the one case It was
like your standing wearily at a door,
knocking and waiting, and wondering if it
will ever open, and knocking and waiting
again, while in the other case It was a
swinging open of the door at the Itrst
touch of your knuckle. Give your friend
ship to God, and have God's friendship for
you. and even the worst accident will be a
victory.
How refreshing is human friendship; and
true friends, what priceless treasuresl
When sickness comes, and trouble comes,
and death comes, we send for our friends
first of all, and their appearance in our
doorway in any crisis is reinforcement, and
when they have entered, we say: "Now, it
is all right!" Oh, what would we do with
out personal friends, business friends,
family friends? But we want sometiiing
mightier tban human friendship in the
great exigencies. When Jonathan Ed
wards. In his final hour, had given the last
good-bye to all his earthly friends, he
.turned on his pillow and closed his eyes,
confidently saying: "Now, where is Jesus
of Nazareth, my true and never-failing
Frieud?" Yes, I admire human friendship
lis seen in the case of David and Jonathan,
of Paul and Onesfphorus, of Herder and
Goethe, of Goldsmith aid Reynolds, of
Becuinout and Fletcher, of Cowley and
Harvey, of Erasmas anil Thomas More, of
Lessing anl Mendelssohn, of Lady
Churchill and Prince Anne, of Orestes and
Pyludes, each requesting that himself
take the point of the dagger, so
the other might bo spared; of Epa
minondas and Pelopidas, who locked
their shields in battle, determined to die
together; but the grandest, the mightiest,
the teiiderest friendship in nil the univcrso
is the friendship between Jesus Christ and
n believing soul. Yet, after all I hare
i aid. I feel I have only done what James
Marshall, the miner, did in ISIS in Cali
fornia, before its gold mines were known,
lie reached in and put upon t lie table of
his employer, Captain Sutter, a thimbleful
of gold dust. "Where did you get that?"
said his employer. The reply was: "I got
it this morning from a mill ni.-e from
which the water ha I been drawn off." But
that gold dust, which could have been
taken up between the linger and thethuinb,
was the prophecy and spe.-i.nen that re
vealed California's wealth to all nations.
And to-day I have oulv put before you a
specimen of the value of iliviue friendship,
only a thimbleful of mines inexhaustible
and infinite, though all time and ali
eternity go on with the exploration.
Experience is iiy
and iN-rfccted by the
industry achieved,
swift course of time
All that liv must J
nature to eternity.
, passing through
It is only imperfect ion that complains
of what is iniK'i fel t, the more -l fei t
we are, the more gentle and quiet We
Imcome toward the defect of others.
Nothing is so fierce but love will
soften nothing so slmrr. sighted but love
will throw a mist liefme its eyes. . .
The more w u iiunii we ci i do
the more busy we are, the more lol.su ro
we have.
However wickedness outsrips men,
it hath no wings to fly from Uod.
Persevere still in thut clear way thou
goest, and the gods strengthen theo!
In the whole civilized world there is
but one infidel in fifty thousand persons
ami yet lie looks uon ail the rest as
bigoted fools.
, .
One ungrateful man does i
to ill who stand ir need of aid.
aa injrr