f 'THE FALL OFlf 1 MINERVA! ' 1 jLfcNjt By A. Constance Smedley. v - / / -i —\ UT, darling, I must be at I the office to-morrow rnorn j J lug. I can't lose all my (j cheats!" "I've told you you're not to go back to-night." "But I must, dear. Really!" The voice verged on the plaintive. "You can go In the morning. I don't mind you leaving me so much when the sun's shining and it's bright and cheerful." "I shan't get in till afternoon then, and that means another whole day wasted. I must catch my train to night." "Then you'll have to turn right round the second we get up to my hotel and walk all these live dreary miles back to the station; and on this bitter night, without your dinner! You can't travel hundreds of miles without anything to eat. Don't be ridiculous!" "I'll get something at the station." Miss Dennison conveyed by her ex pression that she considered the re sources of the station inadequate. "You are not going to-night, dear?" , "I must, pet." "You are going to stay and eat a good dinner beside a blazing lire, and have a real nice; cozy evening. Just think how dull I'll be if you go and leave me all alone to listen to the howl ing of the hateful wind!" "I'd give anything to stay, my own darling little girl. You know that as well as I do. I'll be down again for the week-end." "Then you don't love me, and you never loved me." "Oh, my darling, don't begin all this! I've got to catch that train to-night, and nothing you can say or do will make me miss it." "I'll never speak to you again if you go by 1t; I swear I won't." "For God's sake, don't let's have an other scene! I'm getting perfectly sick of it all!" "Then why ■ don't you turn right round and leave me? Why do you walk on beside me? Why do you stay en gaged to me?" "Because I'm a fool!" As Miss Dennison could not consist ently contradict the assertion, she con fined herself to n dignified toss of hot head, and continued to walk along the road in haughty silence. A row of telegraph poles stretched desolately before them, and the wind swept across the marsh and hummed mournfully along the wires. Far away the sea boomed, and the sharp, white sand flew up from the road in stinging showers, so that Miss Dennison put her muff before her face as site battled onward. The man at her side strode on with downcast head, and hands rammed deep into the pockets of his overcoat. Ilis cap, pulled low down over his frowning eyes, partly protect ed Ills face from the onslaught of the gale. He was a strong, thick-set man, and his expression resembled that of a ,Wen-beaten but desperately goaded dog. '• OMv0 Mv !' 'A fat and cheeky gust of wind sent the girl's boa flying around her lint and the man caught it just in time. 'As three miles had still to be traversed before they reached the hotel where Miss Deunison's people were staying, and Miss Dennison was of a chatty disposition she welcomed this oppor-1 lunity to break the silence. ? •-.-• j "If I were a man i should lie perfect- J ly ashamed to let a girl insult me and I trample on me so! I don't know what sort of a husband you think you'll nmkci" 'fx lie man preserved a discreet silence. "I always wished to marry a man I could look up to. Why. you can't have any self-respect at all!". "You've done your best to kill It, haven't you?". It is policy for the owner of the dog to maintain a firm hold if it resent chastisement. Miss Dennison tilted up her chin and assumed an air of in tense and injured indignation. "I have done my best to wake it up. If there is an Insult which has power to rouse you it is my misfortune, and not my fault, that I do not know it." Miss Dennison's happy and fortunate betrothed looked down on her with patience that was tightly strained. "Is there any object in quarreling at this particular moment? The wind makes conversation rather an exertion; and, though I assume the proper course for me to take is to turn on my heel and stride away forever, I can't leave you to go home alone, you see." "Why not?" ! "The rond's too lonely." "Solitude is more companionable than you." The more than happy object of Miss Dennison's affections hesitated; then decided not to answer. A whirl of sand came hurtling to them up from the ground. Miss Den nison stopped dead. A hoarding stood on one side of the road, behind the iron railings. Tattered bills and posters fluttered from it miserably. "Do come along, dear!" said the man. Miss Dennison pressed her hands in to her muff and began an exhaustive Btmly of the contents of the hoarding. .The man took a few steps forward. lie Was of chivalrous disposition, but had ibeen engaged six months to Miss Den nison. - "It will be dark in a few minutes." Miss Dennison continued to peruse the bills, jjensive interest in every line of her arrested pose. The man stood a few steps off, with a look on his face akin to that on the face of a nurse who wnits for a more than usually spoiled child. "Do you know I'm beginning to think I've gone the wrong way about man aging you?" An involuntary dimple flashed and disappeared in Miss Dennison's care fully averted face. Her betrothed, however, saw only a still abstracted back. "Suppose I were to take you at your word and leave you to walk home alone?" "You are quite unmanly enough to do so!" . "Unmanly!" "Is it mnnly to wait round after me, at my heels, like a little dog?" "What, in Heaven's name do you want of me? If I rebel you have hys terics and call me a brute!" " 'Vivyella!'" read Miss Dennison aloud. "What ridiculous waists girls have on fashion plates! Have you noticed?" The man suppressed an exclamation. "But tliat'3 rather a sweet blouse she's wearing. I wonder if I could re member it I must make mental notes." Miss Denniscon rested her elbows on the railing and buried her chin in her muff, reflectively. "If you think you are going to make me miss that train by dawdling in this insensate fashion, you are mistaken." "Sweet sleeve!" murmured Miss Den nison. "I like the cuff so!" "I shall simply leave you here, you know." "But I can't see how It's put on. Oh it's cut all in one with the sleeve!" said Miss Dennison, with a sudden burst of illumination. "No. I mjist learn thnt!" Miss Dennison redoubled the fixity of her gaze. "I know perfectly well you hear everything I'm saying. Are you com ing or aren't you?" "I believe it's arranged with a gus set!" announced Miss Dennison. The man opened his mouth, then sud denly turned on his heel and swung down tile road. lie had cut the Gor dian knot. Miss Dennison must make her deliberate way home alone. He had gone back to the station and his city-bound train. Miss Dennison found herself left staring at the hoarding in an attitude of mind that can only be described as one of stunned amazement. Then the dimples reappeared, and Miss Denni son smiled into her muff with an air of happy power. "The further he goes, the further he'll have to come back, so I won't look around," said the astute and experi enced Miss Dennison; "and the slower he is coming back, the surer he'll be of missing ids train. If ho thinks he's going to catch it to-night, when I want him to stay here, he is very much mis taken, the ridiculous old thing!" Miss Dennison began to reperuse the hoarding; it sheltered her pleasantly frora the wind. "A hundred pounds reward!" An assuming little notice caught her eyes. "Vivyella" as a subject is cap able of exhaustion. Miss Dennison wel comed a change in literature with alae crlty."' irfilit "As she read Miss Dennison's face portrayed a curious panorama of ex pression; her cheeks paled gradually. The little notice bore.a crown, and was couched in terse and simple language; it was an earnest invitation to a one eyed gentleman to return to his sor rowing friends and guardians at the convict prison across the marshes. It concluded witli a thoughtful warning to lonely and unprotected travelersJis to the gentleman's unprepossessing ap pearance and playful disposition. Miss Dennison reread the bill with interest no longer histrionic. The sea mist was rising on the marshes. The autumn dusk was closing in. The charms of meditation in the lonely land scape seemed suddenly to have lost their savour. Miss Dennison looked up and down the road; her despised betrothed had vanished into the mist. The lights of the station glimmered vaguely far on the horizon. On the other side three miles of deserted road lay between her and her hotel. In the direction of the station lay nearer safe ty—but humiliation; for well did Miss Dennison know thnt her strength lay in her invulnerability. Let her once lay down her sceptre and her reign of tyranny was over for ever. For six months she had enjoyed despotism; was she now to eat humble-pie and cry out for protection? With Napoleonic resolution Miss Dennison turned In the direction of the hotel. She took five steps; then, far away on the distant marshland, she saw a moving shadow. For the first moment she assured herself it was but a fan tasy of her imagination. Then the shadow came nearer and resolved it self into a human figure—a shuffling, clumsy, furtive figure, creeping with bent head along the wall which separ ated the barren pastures. Miss Denni son stood, arrested. The wind moaned and whistled round the hoard ing, but she heard it not. Her eyes were fixed on the strange figure ad vancing from the mists. Presently it hesitated and stopped short. Had It seen her? Suddenly, with cat-like swiftness, the figure left the shelter of the wall, and, still with downcast head, struck out Into the open field. With curious, swift strides, it was cov ering the intervening ground; in a few minutes it would strike the open road beside her. Miss Dennison cast one wild glance along the road in vain. Then, with a sudden shriek, she was beating a re treat toward tho station as fast as fear and the kindly wind could carry her. Somewhere behind her a hoarse voice shouted; somewhere behfnd her heavy footsteps hastened. With blind eyes. Miss Dennison fled on. Now the lights of the station twinkled in the distance; now the downward hill was gained which led there. Now—oll, rapture!— a tall, broad-shouldered and despised betrothed turned and stood amazed In the roadway, to see Minerva fallen from her pedestal and running after him! "Save me!" said Miss Dennison, and flung herself, penitent, submissive, breathless, in his arms. "For God's sake, darling, here's someone coming past! Wait a second till he's passed us!" Miss Dennison's betrothed, though a lover, was an Englishman. Miss Dennison opened her eyes faint ly. "He's got your boa. See he's coming up to Two embarrassed young people stood still while a still more embarrassed po liceman approached them sheepishly. "I called to the young lady, but you didn't seem to hear. Miss. You dropped it just by hoarding. I was coming across marsh and 1 see the wind take it, and I Caught it as it flew across the railings yonder." Miss Dennison smiled whitely; Miss Dennison's betrothed thanked the po liceman more substantially. The po liceman continued to the station with contentment in his tread. "Now, darling," said Miss Dennison's betrothed. "Oh, don't be angry!" said a sudden ly abject despot. "I'll nover bo horrid again. I'll always do exactly what you tell me. Only, darling, darling, dar ling, don't leave me to go home along that dreadful, dreadful road alone!" "My poor, frightened little girl! What a brute I've been!" "You have rather," confessed Mlsa Dennison. ..•••• Along the lonely road two lovers loitered. The wind swept merrily above them and around them, all un heeded. Miss Dennison's face was screened from tho rough blest, her head was hidden penitently against a sheltering arm. And, as they walked along, Miss Dennison's betrothed concluded a kind and decisive conversation in which Miss Dennison played an astonishingly contrite and secondary part. "And. you understand, dear, there aro to be no more of these ridiculous quar rels." "No, darling. I'll do whatever you wish." "The man must always be the head. I've been foolish to give into you so weakly. It's been as much my fault as yours." "Yes, dear; it has." "But you have been very inconsider ate." "A woman is always more in love than a man." "A man has duties which he must fulfill." "Yes, darling; and it's very wonder ful and beautiful of him to neglect them for a woman's sake—a silly, cow ardly, selfish, unattractive girl!" Miss Dennison's betrothed refuted such an appreciation of her character with warmth. Please!" said Miss Dennison. "Tho hotel-people will see us." -* JTiic brilliant facadeof the hotel shone but 'suddenly lie hind "tub hill. * Miss Dennison aud her betrothed walked decorously tip the drive, where her anxious people welcomed them from the piazza. Miss Dennison conducted her betrothed in triumph into the hall. Late that evening Miss Dennison and her betrothed concluded another con versation of a similar nature. "And you'll be down at half-past 7 in the morning to give me my break- *- "Yes, sweetheart." "And you'll take me to the station?" "Yes, darling." "And always do exactly as I tell you ?" "Yes, my own." Miss Dennison hesitated. Then she ascended the stair pensively, while her betrothed stood at the bottom and watched adoringly. At the turn of the baluster she paused, eandlo in hand. The light shone on her sweet and saint-like profile. "But, all the same," said Miss Den nison, "you must admit you did not catch the train."—Tho Sketch. Tho Mysterious Kiner. This story is being told in Paris concerning a well-known public man who recently was presented by a Sou danese potentate with a Labaksl-Tapo order of merit The recipient, anxious to display the decoration at the earliest opportunity, applied at once to tho Ministry for permission to wear It. While readily granting tho permission the Ministry inquired with a ghost of a smile: "Do you know what the or der is like?" "Certainly," replied 'the delighted applicant. "It is a beautiful gold ring, and hanging from It a small red enamel pipe of peace. I should like to wear it." "Of course you may wear it, but according to law you have to wear it as it is worn by the natives of Africa." "And how might that be?" "Why, with the ring through the nose." The new knight of the Labaksi-Tapo ordei; has not been heard of since.—Westminster Gazette. ... IGNORANCE OF BIRDS. for© Noticeable in £ou>e Varieties Than iu Others. Birds, with all tlieir acuteness, often fail to move out of their accustomed groove. The chirping sparrow' 3 have persisted in building their nests In the roof gutters of the next houas, ignor ing tho fact that rain is not unknown in this climate, and that a heavy show er will flood their tenements and drown their offspring. Not only this, but next year and the year after Ihoy will do the same, failing to ienrn by experi ence how to accommodate themselves to British weather. Jackdaws, when untainted by civilization, dwell in holes in the rocks, but quickly adapt them selves to new circumstances. The writer lias been almost smothered by smoke caused by a nest which com pletely blocked tils chimney, ten feet from the top. As the chimney had only been built a few months, it is obvious that as a site it must have been unfamlitar to the troublesome birds. Now, that time Is far distant when first rßluineys were invented and tho first Jackdaws descended their blackened depths; yet a long experi ence, while it has shown the birds the convenience of chimneys for holding their abominable sticks, has not taught them that their premises cannot bo in sured against fire. Perhaps, after all, the Wains of Jackdaws are sharper than is supposed. The nests are placed In the chimneys just when the fires are being given up for the summer, so that the Jackdaws enjoy the use of the chimneys more than the man who pays for their erection.—Bird Lore. WISE WORDS. „ • Tear mako a man his own foe. Pacts do not depend on feelings. Public sins need public censure. Self-denial is the secret of delight. The truly humble hide their humility. Secreting our sins will not slay them. There is no strength without sympa thy. The offense of evil is our best defense against it. The coming of night should conse crate the day. There is no power sufficient to make a man out of putty. To see u purpose in our pain is a step toward finding peace. Faith in the eternal goodness fur nishes the soul's equilibrium. Envy loses the flavor of its own Joys in abusing the form of another's. Greed and not goodness is the mod ern world's condition of greatness. When you are only skim milk in eth ics you cannot make up for it by being cream in theoretics.—Ram's now. ltoed £quelclieo Be Born Rich By President Eliot, of Harvard. almost s,lre ITa s' to succeed in most labors is to be ready to O J U vo i un t cer t 0 j 0 something beyond one's real duty. Hard work O A 0 lias ma( '° nations great In an individual it is the same. What O A D good tor the nation is good for every one In it, aud what is n O good for every one is good for the nation, y 0 Work Is the foundation of all the joy and happiness in the PTyUtTCTy world. I have received many suggestions lately that I take up the work of a miner and see how I like it. I'm a little old now, but in the forty years of my life 1 should have llkod a miner's work. A spice of danger and an element of chance add Interest to work. An occupation like that of an engineer, which gives a chance for heroic deeds, is a distinctly desirtiblo occupation. The main satisfaction In life is the sense of achieve ment. Never work moderately. Work ut top speed. Unless you do your you not only cheat your employer, hut you cheat yourself. Tll