HIS FLEETING IDEAL.
The Great Composite Novel.
The Joint Work of P. T. BARNUM,
JOHN L. SULLIVAN, BILL NYE.
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. MaJ.
ALFRED C. CALHOUN, HOWE &
HUMMEL, INSPECTOR BYRNES,
PAULINE HALL, Miss EASTLAKE,
W. H. BALLOU, NELL NELSON
and ALAN DALE.
I.—FOUND AT LAST.
By W. H. BALLOU. Illustrated by FER
NANDO MIRANDA
[Copyright. All rights reserved.]
"Happy 1 may not call thee until 1
learn that thy life has been happily end
ed."
Thus soliloquized young Mr. Henry
Henshall as he reclined, day dreaming,
against the cushions of his seat in the
forward section of a Wagner car.
The New York Central train was
speeding him on and on, to which fact
he was utterly oblivious.
He had secured tho forward soction to
escape observation. He sat with his
back to the passengers. Himself was
companionship enough. He desired only
to think and to dream.
He had but a few days Bince put Co
lumbia college, so to speak, among his
stock of reminiscences, with hor highest
honors in his trunk.
Ho had mentally given over his father's
great manufacturing interests, which
invited him to take immediate posses
sion and give the aged sire his desired
retirement, to the devil and the deep
blue sea.
Ho loved his ideal best, his art next,
the devil take what was hindmost. Tho
ideal was now his quest; art he could
achieve between times. It was of her
he dreamed—his ideal.
As he sat there gazing at the end of
the car, deep in the contemplation of
this yet unseen but ever clearly outlined
celestial ideal girl, with all the glamour
of youth, the words of the great Solon
to envions Crcesus would thrust them
selves between his thoughts and seize
him like some grim si>ucter, "Happy I
may not call thee until I learn that thy
life has been happily ended."
"Why need what old Solon or any one
else ever said concern me?" he mused.
"What difference does it make what
people say or who says it? A fact is a
fact, and a theory a theory. One man's
theory is as good for his own purposes as
another's theory. The fact in my case is
that I am satisfied to paint, notwith
standing dad's wrath and the business
he would thrust on me. Let dad earn
the money, or who will—l desire only to
spend it.
"So much for the fact. My theory is,
and I prefer it to Solon'B, that to marry
my ideal will bo the acme of happiness
and will insure a happy ending to my
life. If I never find her more or less of
my life will be miserable and will end
unhappily."
Tho young man failed to see that he
had exactly conformed his theory to
Solon's, that he had expressed the same
theory precisely with variations in form
only. Youth is deluded and ignores ro
somblances, those trifles which made
Darwin immortal. Ho continued to
muse;
"As an artist my preferences run to
browns. They are my favorite colors,
because to me they are most beautiful,
most quiet, most sincero and the least
suggestive of either gaudiness or gloom.
My ideal, unseen, unknown love Is a
symphony in browns—brown hair, brown
eyes and a complexion tinted brown
rather than white or red.
"She is very small in stature, hence
suro to be superbly perfect In form. Her
little head is beautifully rounded and
symmetrical, likewiso hor dimpled arm
- and her sweet little hands. Her little
* feet aro incased in child's boots, not
larger than a child's No. 13. She is"
He paused abruptly, startled, for ho
saw her. His eye had been wandering
among the gorgeous tapestries of the
car, the beautifully wrought woodwork,
the superb French plute glass panes in
tho windows, tho oil pointed ceilings
and the blue and gold woven velvets of
the cushions.
Atjlaat it rested on a mirror in front
and above his head that slightly inclined
from the top toward him sufficiently to
expose the entire car aud all its occu
pants in dim image, dim because his
curtain was drawn, darkening tho light
from the window at his side.
He thought several times to change
his position to (obviate the annoyance,
but he unconsciously seemed deterred
from so doing. He was being slowly
fascinated by a shadow as yet undefined,
but momentarily growing more startling.
He stared through the dim light at the
mirror until his eyes became accus
tomed to tho shadows above, and tho
picturo among tho other images gradual
ly defined itself.
0 What he saw, that which wound
round and round him silken threads of
fascination, might have been reflected
through a dozen mirrors from Bide to
side and from end to end of the car.
Suddenly he turned and attempted to
discover the original among the passen
gers. Failing in this he again sought
the mirror, giving himself entirely to
the study of one dim outline.
What he saw was the head and bust
of a young girl. It so exactly conformed
to the ideal of which he had dreamed
so long that he concluded the image
must be a conception merely—a psy
chological ghost, as it were.
There was his dream face, surely; the
symphony in browns; the brown hair,
every thread as delicate as the dew
catching gauze of a spider; the large
brown eyes, in which was the very soul
of the loftiest conceivable intellect, the
highest genius of music, perhaps; the
complexion slightly tinted brown, but
cut by the sweetest red lips; the evi
/ flently small stature and perfect form;
tho beautifully rounded and symmetrical
head and dimpled arm.
He only lasted a glimpse of the feet
to complete tho spell of fascination, ex
cept of course the realization of his ab
sorbing desire—possession. Ho closed
his eyes an instant to more completely
imagine it all a dream. Again he looked
to revel in the picture, but madness —it
was gone.
Startled, the young man turned in dis
may, when, to his almost uncontrollable
joy, the girl in all her ideal beauty slow
ly approached him in tho aisle. His
quick, artistic eye encompassed her form
in a glance, completing the picture. She
had exquisite feet incased in little boots
not larger than a child's No. 12.
The girl hesitated, looking at him shy
ly, as if in doubt whether to proceed.
Why, he could not for an instant imag
ine, but he afterward attributed it to
the fact that he actually devoured her,
so far as one can devour a girl with the
eyes. Her hesitation was out moment
ary, then she approached a small silver
water tank in the corner of the lobby
near him.
He was on his feet in an instant. He
sprang to the tank, his tall form bend
ing until his eyes wero on a level with
her, and he gazed at her with that
eagerness and intensity with which a
starved nomad might look through a
window on an epicure's dinner at Del
monico's.
"Permit me to assist you," he said
gently, with difficulty controlling a de
sire to grasp her hand.
"Thanks, you are very kind," ventured
the maiden, wondering nt hiß eagerness
and intensity of gaze.
He placed the silver goblet under tho
faucet, letting tho liquid oozo out as
slowly as possible whilo ho continued
his gaze like one in a dream of delight.
"The water is overflowing the gob
let," suggested tho girl with an amused
smile.
Tho man awoke confusedly, turned
tho water off and handed to her tho cup.
"Couldn't you let it run over a little
while?" ho asked half impatiently.
"Tho carpet will übsorb it. I have been
looking for you so long. I"
"Oh, certainly, if you wish," she in
terrupted. "But then I am so thirsty,
you know."
He stared through the dim light at the
. mirror.
"And so am I," the man said wearily.
"I was never so thirsty in my life."
"Then I advise you to tako a drink,"
retorted tho girl with a laugh, and she
abruptly turned and left him.
"It is not for water I am craving,"
murmured the wretched man; but if
she heard liim she gave no sign of it.
He watchixl her move down the aisle
and enter tho drawing room at tho other
end of the car. The reason of his ina
bility to see her among the passongers
was now evident. But how could her
image bo reflected in tho mirror in front
of him?
His eye caught a quick solution. The
transom over the door of the drawing
room was open. Some mirror on tho iu
sido reflected the images of the people
to soino mirror on the outside and thence
into the one over his head.
Hnngry and dissatisfied he seated
himself again to contemplate tho picturo
and schemo to get acquainted.
Now ho recognized other people in the
drawing room also reflected in the mir
ror.
There was an old man with a sober,
dissatisfied face who looked as if ho
might be a disciple of Henry George
deep in contemplation of land theories;
a woman with a just then unreadable
countenance, who might be the ideal's
instructress in music or other studies,
or her governess, perhaps; lastly, tho
face of a younger man, say of 85 years,
that bore in it cunning, malice, suavity
and other characteristics winch denoted
a shrewd schemer and perhaps a villain
ous nature.
Was sho traveling in security with an
aged, absorbed parent and trusted
friends, or was her father, if such lie be,
oblivious to the machinations of a vil
lain, who had an accomplice in tho sup
posed governess?
He resolved to probe this mystery to
tho bottom, if he had to travel around
the earth to do it—if he had to employ
detectives, hail to squander his whole
fortune.
Poor man! He little know how much
of his contemplation was to be realized
in bis future existence.
Alarmed by the workings of his brain
he suddenly resolved to paint the group
as they appeared in the mirror.
He raised the curtain near him to in
croaso the effect of the scene in the mir
ror, but it only dulled out the picture
and he drew it down.
From his valiso he took a palette, his
paints and brushes and a small square of
canvas with a heavy pastboard back de
signed for use in the absence of an easel.
He began sketching on his ideal. It
was a joyous task, so much so that his
whole soul became concentrated in the
work, and the lines in which he drew
the lovely face rapidly grow into a fac
simile of life.
Of course the best he could do during
the remainder of the day was to prepare
studies for more finished paintings later.
Still ho lingered long and lovingly on
the face of his ideal until the study, un
der tho intensity of his love and long
ing, became not a bad picture.
The day gradually lengthened until ho
recognized that he must turn his atten
tion to tho others of the group or miss
them by nightfall.
They might get off at some destina
tion north of New York. He must hasten.
With feverish anxiety, intensified by
the thought of her possible escape from
him, ho put uway tho paints and took to
his pencil.
By nightfall lie had sketched the group,
BO that all its characters might be recog
nized by the detectives whom he already
purposed putting on the case if he should
miss them.
Mr. Henshall concluded that in the
dining car at dinner he should have the
pleasure of sitting at the table next to
the group. To his utter disappointment
dinner was served to the party in tho
seclusion of the drawing room.
He entered the dining car on tho last
call and resorted to stimulants to urge
his brain into some suggestion for his
relief. He returned to his section and
called the conductor, having evolved no
othor scheme.
"Can you tell me the names of the
party in tho drawing room mid their des
tination?" ho queried anxiously.
"I do not know tlieir names," replied
the official, "as tho room was merely
marked off to a party of four. How
ever, I know that their destination is
New York, and that they have transfer
tickets either for some steamer or rail
road. In case of the latter they should
be bound southward; if abroad, their
course is but a wild conjecture."
"Find out for me where they are going
and I will pay you $ 10."
"Very well, sir." But that was the last
he saw of tho conductor.
When darkness set in the brilliant
electric lights of the Wngnor palace in
creased the intensity of tho picturo in
the mirror.
At last Henshall observed somo move
ment in the drawing room.
The girl took a violin, and tuned it to
suit her practised little ear. Soon thero
began to float through the car the ravish
ing arias of Chopin, Schumann and other
masters.
If she was exquisitely beautiful to him
before, what could describe hor when
pouring her very soul into music? It
was then that the beautiful brown eyes
vindicated his sense of the artistic and
his love of their color.
In the mystic spell of that entrancing
music he could see clearly through the
perfection of her fingering, bowing,
technique, finish and grace into her very
soul, which was mirrored in her eyes.
Ho had listened to 010 Bull in times
past, to Sembrich and even to Christine
Nilsson when she had chosen to seize a
violin and charm her friends; but in love
as he was the music of the maiden for
whom he was hungering seemed to pale
the efforts of those great artists.
The very motion of the car was in
harmony with her time. Passengers
throw away their novels and listened.
The old man in the*drawing room closed
his eyes as if in rapturous sleep. The
villainous looking man, as if fascinated,
thrust his face as near to hers as he
could without disturbing the player, and
his looks showed passion, longing, and a
malicious intent which maddened Hen
shall.
As suddenly as tho music commenced
it ceased. Tho girl arose and put away
her violin softly and with a caress. Evi
dently she was tired and wished to seek
her couch.
Had the young man heard what was
said within, his anxiety would have been
increased to a fever hoat, but he had not
that privilege, much to his later disad
vantage.
Soon the lights within the drawing
room went out; the group had retired.
Long in contemplation the young man
sat. At hist, merely to relieve the por
ter, all the remaining passengers being
in bed, he betook himself to his couch.
It was hours before his tired brain would
rest, and it was broad daylight before he
awoke to violently spring to tho floor
and dress hlmsolf. The car was stand
ing in tho yards of tho Grand Central
depot. Tho berths were all made up,
and the opon doors of tho drawing room
showed that his bird had flown. Ho
sought the porter in a rage.
"Where have they gone—tho people in
the drawing room?" he almost shouted.
"Don't know, sah. Don't know nothin'
'tall about it. Train get heah at 4 o'clock
diß mawnin'. Do pasaenges get up when
da pleases. 'Specs do folks got up when
da pleased."
Mr. Henshall sat down u moment to
clear his brain. He was stunned.
Most of the night he had tossed in bed,
hoping for an accident, a crash, a fire,
anything, that he might spring to her
rescue. Nothing of the kind hail hap
pened. Instead ho liad gone to sleep like
a stone and let her escape.
It was now 10 o'clock. Six hours had
elupsed, sufficient for tho party to have
escaped by European steamer or to the
south, or worso, perhaps to their home
in the vast city of New York, where one
individual is a mere drop in the ocean,
a grain of sand in the Sahara, a moth
on a great sequela of California.
The man arose and sought the quar
ters of the cabmen. They could tell him
nothing. No one had taken a party of
four. They might havo taken a street
car or carriage of their own or walked
to some near hotel, or worse, taken the
elevated railway direct to the dock of
some morning sailing steamer. '
There was absolutely no hope. In
despair the man wandered away, vio
lently clutching his painted portraits,
tlie only possible clew in the case.
n.—THE CUP THAT SLIPPED.
By ELLA WHEELEE WILOOX. Illus
trated by PHILIP 0. OUSAOHS.
[Copyright. All rights reserved.!
"I tell yon, papa, I cannot enduro his
presence in this house. It was offensive
enough to me at homo, when he came
but once or twice a day. It was still
more so during oi.r journey here, when
I was forced to bn in the sanio car with
him; but now that you tell me he is to
live under the Bame roof, sit at the same
table and ride in tho same carriage with
us it becomes unbearable. My hatred
of the man increases hourly. Wliy
need you compel me to associate with
him so closely, papa?"
Tho voice of the speaker was of that
peculiar contralto quality which in a re
fined woman denotes passion and force
of character, and in an ordinary one a
coarse order of strength.
It is a voice which always makes men
turn to listen, and which echoes longer
adown the strings of memory than the
most bird-like notes of more musical and
higher keyed voices.
The face of the speaker betokened re
finement, and this, together with her ex
treme youth and pronounced beauty,
rendered the voice more remarkable.
The elderly man to whom the words
were addressed breathed a deep sigh.
"My dear child, I beg you to be reason
able," he said gently. "You know how
ill I have been—you know how alarming
my condition seemed ever after"
"Don't, papa," cried the young girl
sharply. "Do you not suppose I remem
ber as well as you the events which
killed mamma, shattered your health
and ruined my young life? Why recall
thorn now?
"Have wo not como away to forget
them, if possible, or at least to live down
the effects? But I do not see how it
will help us to have that odious man
under tho same roof with us day and
night. Let Dr. Ben"
"Watson," interrupted the old gentle
man quickly. "I tell you, child, we must
not forgot the new names we have re
solved to use. Remember always that I
am Mr. Crawford, you arc Miss Craw
ford, your governess is Miss Brown and
my physician is Dr. Watson. It is im
perative that we use these names among
ourselves as well as in the presence of
strangers."
The young girl threw out lier arms
with an expression at once impatient
and despairing.
"I hato subtorfugo and deception in
every form," she cried, "and I have
never seen why this change of names—
which was a suggestion of Dr. Watson,
as you call him—is necessary. In a city
like New York or London or Paris,
where we are to pass our time of exile,
we could easily sink our identity with
out living under false names."
"Tho greatest city in tho world is not
largo enough to hide tho identity of a
disgraced name," responded tho old man
bitterly.
"Disgraced? Papal" exclaimed tho
young girl in a tono of expostulation, but
the old man waved his hand wearily.
"Enough," ho said. "Enough of this,
my dear. Tho past is past. Why dis
cuss it? Tho present and the future re
main.
"I desiro to regain my health and brain
power, that I may set about clearing our
name from the dark stain which has
fallen upon it. Ido it more for your
sake than my own, as at longest my stay
on earth will he brief; but before I go 1
would lift this shadow from your young
heart.
"Dr. Watson, as you well know, is the
first of mauy physicians who gave mo
any relief from my suffering. He was
the last one to be called by mo, liocause,
like yourself, I had conceived a most un- ,
reasonable prejudice against the man.
Some foolish and idle gossip concerning
his private lifo, which arose from pure
envy, I am now convinced, had warped .
my judgment. But from tho hour ho
first took hold of my case I have been a
new man. I have been like one risen
from the grave.
"It was he who discovered that old
associations were affecting my mind
dangerously. It was he who suggested
a journey abroad, and, as you say, under
assumed names. A disgraced name is j
liko a deceased member of tho body. If
you have a wounded finger you are in
constant fear of hurting it, awake or
asleep. If you bear a stained name you
dread the effect of it on every stranger j
you meet. Dr. Watson realized what
this strain would bo upon me during our
journey, and I must confess the relief I
fiud under my alias is marvelous. You
know how I have improved. Tho chill
with which I was attacked tho morning
of our arrival, and which decided us to
remain here a few months before pro- j
ceeding farther, js only a step down on ,
tho ladder of health since I began to j
clambor up out of tho valley of death. I
Dr. Watson Is my savior.
"I beg you to overcome your unrea- j
sonable prejudice against him, my dear 1
child. Whatever the errors of his youth
I am convinced he was more sinned
against than sinning. He is your poor j
father's best friend now, and as such
you must consider him."
"But why need he live here with us?
Why can he not take a room a few
blocks distant, within easy call?" per
sisted the young girl. "It destroys the
privacy of our home life—and it destroys '
my peace of soul," she added wildly, j
"to have him here."
"That is tho extravagant language ot
youth," rejoined the old man. "Your
prejudice is unreasonable, but I will
strive to keep Dr. Watson from annoy
ing you with attentions which he in
tends only as courtesies to the daughter
of his patient.
"He must remain under this roof. His
presence is as agreeable anil beneficial to
me as it seems to be unpleasant to yon.
In this matter selfishness is the groatest
unselfishness on my part, for the restora
tion of my health is the first considera
tion for your future happiness."
The sound of a key rattling in the lock,
like a rat gnawing in the wainscot, put
an end to further conversation, and the
door swung open to admit a medium
sized man in his middle thirties, whose
glittering, sloo black eyes rested upon
the face of the young lady while his
words were addressed to her father.
The lips expressed kind consideration
for the Invalid, while the eyes expressed
insolent and assured triumph in a fixed
purpose.
Whilo ho talked with his patient ho
kept his gaze upon the girl's face.
She sought to avoid those glittering
eyes, but they seemed to fill the room
with strange light.
| She took a bit of sewing in her band
| and turned her back upon him, ostensi
bly to catch tho receding rays of the af
| ternoon sun from the northern window;
but he spoke her name, aud for some
] reason unaccountable to herself she
turned toward him, drawn like the
J ncedlv to the magnet,
i "Papa, I feel the need of the air. 1
am going out with Miss—Miss Brown
for a little walk." she said, rising ab
ruptly.
"Papa, I feel the need of the air."
"I have ordered tho carriage to he here
i In fifteen minutes. Wait and ride," said
; Dr. Watson.
, "I prefer to walk," she answered
; coldly.
, "And I wish yon to ride," he said
< quietly.
, Again her eyes were drawn to his and
she sat down obediently.
As tliey took their places in the car
riage Dr. Watson Beatod himself opposite
Miss Crawford and by tho side of her
1 father.
! The drive lasted two hours. It was
dark when they returned, and Miss
Brown was startled to hear her young
mistress cry out wildly as the door of
l their room closed upon them, "I shall
certainly, certainly go mod!" und then to
see her fall in a dead swoon upon the
; floor.
| After she was restored to conscious
ness and tucked into bed with Miss
I Brown to watch beside her, the old
gentleman spoke confidentially to Dr.
Watson.
"I think you will have to avoid show
ing any attention to my daughter for a
timo," he said, "as she has conceived
some foolish prejudice against you. It
J is tho whim of a mere child, and I trust
you will regard it lightly, but I am con
vinced by her manner during tho drive
this afternoon, and by her swoon, that
she is considerably excited over this
matter.
j "You liavo boon very courteous and
kindly attentive to her, as it is your
nature to be, I am sure, toward all her
sex. But I think it would be wise to
take no further notice of her for some
time to come—until she outgrows this
whim of hers."
Dr. Watson loaned near tho old gentlo
man and laid one hand on his shoulder,
and spoko in a low. grave voice:
"My dear friend, I do not wish to
alarm you," ho Buid. "Yes, I have boen
studying your daughter's mental con
dition over since I first entered your
service. She has a most remarkably
j sensitive nervous organization, and it
has been greatly shocked by events to
which I need not refer. Unless she re
ceives medical attention I fear for her.
"I beg you to leave her caro entirely
to mo. Miss Brown understands her
condition, and we have both wished to
conceal tho danger from you, but since
you have spoken it is better that you )
know the facts. Ignore any whim the
child may have; pacify her as best you
may for the timo being, and leave tho
result with mo. Yon shall not regret it."
The old man pressed the doctor's hand
and tears came to his eyes.
"Nor shall you ever regret your inter
est in ino and mine," he said. "Thank
| God. I have money enough to pay you
for this sacrifice of your wholo time and
skill In my service whflo I live, and you
shall not bo forgotten when I dio."
The eyes of the doctor glowed like
coals of fire as ho bade his patient good
night and stepped out Into tho hall.
At the door of her mistress's room
Miss Brown stood waiting for him, fear
; iu her eyes. He put his finger to his lip.
I "Do not be alarmed," he whispered.
"The swoon was nothing. It may occur
i again. Keep cool always, and remem- J
i ber our compact iu the Wagner car, i
when you promised to aid me. You '
shall bo well jsiid for It."
And ho slipped a crisp bank note into j
her willing hand. She bowed her head. J
"To-uight, at I o'clock," he continued,
! "if your young mistress takes her violin
and plays an air from 'Faust,' do not speak j
to her or disturb ber. Let her follow her I
own will. It may not happen, and yet I
such an event iB liable to occur."
I He passed on to his room, and Miss I
Brown entered the apartment which she !
; occupied with her young mistress, who
was now sunk iu a profound slumber. |
An hour and a half after midnight the
sweet strains of a violin breathing an air
from "Faust" floated through the apart -
; ment house.
j A woman who lived across the hall
heard it, and remarked to her husband
that if over a set of cranks lived on eartli
it was the people opposite.
! Dr. Watson heard the mnsic and
laughed softly in his room, while his
eyes glowed like coals of fire.
Miss Brown both saw the player and
heard her music and muttered with pale
lips, "Is he man or devil?"
Just a moth later, a man who had
been sitting in Cliickering hall watching
the exhibition of Professor Oscar Feld
man, the hypnotist and mind reader,
rose and walked out before the close of
the entertainment.
A 3 T oung man sitting near the aisle
glanced up at him, slightly annoyed at
the disturbance caused by his exit.
"I have seen that face before," ho
thought, as the man passed on.
The exhibition grew in interest and
the young man turned his attention to
the stage; but the face of the person who
had just gone out danced before him iu
irritating BuggeetivGHess, just eluding
the grasp of his tantalized memory.
"Where did I see him before?" ho
thought, and then, like a mirage*, tho
scene reflected in t!;; mirror of the Wag
ner drawing room car two months pre
vious iliislio< 1 before the mind's.eye of
Harry Henskall.
He arose and dashed out < >f tho hall.
In the crowds of people hurrying to
and fro in every direction it was impos
sible to toll whither the man had gone.
He hailed a cab, hurried to his studio,
made a careful sketch of tho face he had
just seen, and carried it to tho private
detective who was reno ,vnod for his skill.
"This man I saw go out of Chicker
ing hall half an hour ago," lie said.
"Find his address for me and I will pay
your price."
It was a few days over a month later
when he received a telegram in Boston,
whither he had gone the day previous,
which said:
"Have found name and number. Como
home."
"I saw the original of this sketch day
before yesterday, driving in a carriage,'
explained the detective on Henshall's ar
rival. "I followed and saw him enter
No. 3 West Thirty-eighth streot. 1
then followed the driver to the stables,
and learned that the carriage had been
rented some three months before by a
family named Crawford, of the number
and street I mentioned."
When Mr. Henry Henghull presented
himself before the janitor of No. :i— West
Thirty-eighth street to make inquiries
concerning a family named CravWird.
he was informed that they took their de
parture early that morning and left no
address.
"They leased these furnished apart
ments for three months," the janitor ex
plained, "and the time would not expire
until next week some time, but they left
today."
"Perhaps they gave their address to
somo of the other occupants of the build
ing," suggested Mr. Henshall. "May 1
inquire?"
But the inquiries elicited nothing from
the other people in the house.
No one had ever exchanged a word
with the family. The woman opposite
volunteered the opinion that they were
a set of cranks, and no better than they
ought to be, in her opinion.
"A rich old man, a queer woman, a
fellow with an evil eye and a crazy girl
who played the fiddle at 2 o'clock at night
wero not pleasant sort of folks to live
opposite," she said, and sho was glad
enough they had gone, and sho had no
desire to know where they wero.
With these words sho slammed tho
door in Mr. Henshall's eager face.
That evening a woman whose gar
ments bore the same relation to past ele
gance that her faco bore to past beauty
called on tho janitor of No. li West
Thirty-eighth street to make- inquiries
concerning a man by the name of Dr.
Henshaw. •
"No such man livin' here, miss," re
plied the janitor, with that air of im
portance peculiar to the freedom of one
who feels the newness and greatness of re
sponsible duties. "Tho only doctor ever
bin roun' yeah in my day is Dr. Watson,
and he's dun gone today."
"Did ho go alone?" asked the lady
quickly.
"No, tho whole family dun gone, too
—Mister Crawford, Miss Crawford and
Miss Brown."
A steel blue light flashed from the
once beautiful eyes of tho faded blonde.
"And ho loft no address?" sho asked
quietly.
"Not any, miss. Gteu'in here today
lookiu' for the same parties, but nobody
knows nothin' about them."
The lady turned and walked away.
"Very well, Dr. Watson," she mut
tered under her breath, "I shall know
who to search for now, and if you are
on this earth my vengeance will yet find
vou."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
HORSEMEN
ALL KNOW THAT
Wise's Harness Store
Is still here and doing busi
ness on the same old principle
of good goods and low prices.
" I wish I had one."
H685E30083.
Blankets, Buffalo Bolus, Bar
ness, and in fact every
thing needed by
Horsemen.
Good workmanship and low
prices is my motto.
GEO. WISE,
Jeddo, and No. 35 Centre St.
"FBOTECTION
cr
IPFFEiIE:
By Henry (leorrjc,
Tlio lending statesmen of the world
prunuuiloe It tho (treatest work our
written upon tho tarilt' question. No
statistics, no llitures. no ova-ions. It
will interest and Instruct you. llend it.
Copies Free at the Tribune Office
PETER TIMONY,
BOTTLER.
And Dealer in all kindg of
Liquors, Beer and Porter,
Temperance Drinks,
Etc., Etc.
Geo.Ringler&Co.'s
Celebrated LAGER BEER put
in Patent Sealed Bottles here
on the premises. Goods de
livered in any quantity, and to
any part of the country.
FREELAND BOTTLING WORKS,
Cor. Centre and Carbon Sts., Frecland.
(Near Lehigh Valley Depot*)
S. RUDEWICK,
Wholesule Dealer In
Imported Brandy, Wine
And All Kinds Of
LIQUORS.
THE BEST
I3eex,
Sorter,
Ale -An.a.
ZBro-wn Stout.
Foreign and Domestic.
Cigars Kept on Hand.
S. RUDEWICK,
SOUTH HEBERTON.
E. M. GERITZ,
23 years In Germany and America, opposite
tho Cent ru I Hotel, Centre Street, Fi eelaea. The
Cheapest Repairing Store in town.
Watches, Clocks and Jewelry...
New Watches, Clocks and
Jewelry on hand for the Holi.
days; the lowest cash price in
town. Jewelry repaired in
short notice. All Watch Re
pairing guaranteed for one
year.
Eight Day Clocks from $3.00
to $12.00; New Watches from
SI.OO up.
E. M. GERITZ,
Opposite Central Hotel, Centre St., Fn elan*.
GO TO
Fisher Bras.
Livery Stable
FOR
FIRST-CLASS TURNOUTS
At Short Notice, for Weddings, Parties and
Funerals. Front Street, two squares
below XreelauU Opera House.
H. M. BRISLIN, .
UNDERTAKER
AND
EMBALMER.
[ptepies, Boils^
j Blact- J Heads,
♦ IN fact '
I. Wo mnat fUI havo now, rich blood, which
lis rapidly miulo by that remarkable propnr-
I ntion.Dr. LIND3E7'3 IMPEOVED BLOOD SXASOBfiD.
T jor tho speedy euro of Bcrufuia, Wasting,
I Mercurial Disease, Eruptions, Erysipelas,
J vital docny. and every indication of impovorl
7ished blood. Dr. Liadsoj's Bleed Ce*rohcr is the
T oai roiuody that can always bo roliod nnou.
_ l'rnggislti h11 it. v
THE SELLERS MEDICINE COi
, , , , PITTSBURGH [ PA.
lljSilii
IS but skln deep. There are thousands of ladiss
who have regular features and would bo ac
corded tho palm of beauty wcro It not for a poor
complexion. To all such We recommend DW.
HEURVS VIOLA CREAM as possessing these
qualities that quickly chnngo the most sallow
and Jiorid complexion to one of natural henlth
and unblemished beauty. It cures Oily Skin,
Freckles, block Heads, blotches, Sunburn,
Tan, Pimples, and all imperfections of the
skin. It is man cosmetic but a cure, yet is bet
ter for tlio toilet tablo than powder. flohl by
Druggists, or sent post paid upon receipt of 60c.
G. C. BITi'NER & CO., Toledo, O.