Evening Star Newspaper, September 8, 1883, Page 7

AMBER COSGROVE L My name ts Amber Cosgrove, and such is my fortune that I can write in thre: words the Istory of my girlhood. Happy—happler=bap- Piest! Those thin, clear, up-and-down strokes tell little to others; to me they tell of a past for which I cannot be toothankfal. I write a hand like my great-grandmother’s, so Ainslie tells me, neat and formal and old-fashioned—epi- thets which I think describe me as well as any I ean find for myself. And so in those neat, for- mal, old-fashioned strokes on the smooth white paper see pictured not only my life but my babits and ways. And the dashes between— what of them? They are the breaks in the even flow of a peaceful passazes rough at the time, but now not unpleasant to remember, for through them I Mich as noble us and true, asmy own as ¢ eveu of Ainslie | can say no more And t. & seene which is often in my mind and think ot the past. But it is no Passage in my own life; tt took place before I was born, and ina far-distant land. Try to pic- ture a dark still might in one of the central prov- inces of India, down a jungle path, roughly with logs. it only here and there by the 8 pie through the branches over- ersons. Fnropeans and na- stumbling and falling in their hurry, but never pausing. Behind them there is a glare in the sky far too deep for the Moonlight. brishter and redder even than the glow which hangs over a great city at night. hat crimson iliumination is no ordinary sight; it means wurder and bloudshed, for It is the blaze of the Ferinzhees’ burning houses. Al: Feady you can hear the cries of the pursui Sepoys, so ferocious in the hour of their long. delayed vengeance that the blood of men, as brave as the two who bring up the rear of the fying party, may well run chill with fear. Not on their own account, but for the women and children who are being hurried alon: by their panic-stricken servants. Well may Major Cos- grove’s breath cox d go, for his wite and children are of the party; vainly he tries to pierce the darkness in tront, and fo distinguish the gleam of the river. beyond whieh is com- Parative safety. He knows that hardly three miles ou the other side of it !s a British station; and the demons behind, cowardly as cruel, may hesitate to pursue where every step brings them Bearer to danger. While he gazes in front his brother officer keeps turning back his head in the direction of the pursuit. Neither speaks his thoughts; but the Major. his face white and set, tries the chambers of his revolvers, and his companion sees him and nods. He knows, without explanation. for whom the cartridzes 0 carefully tapped ate intended. Ha, the water at last. e it is, between its dark ‘woode banks, rippling quickly with a thou- sand px’ S over the shallow ford. But is it Bot too late? A louder ery rinzs through the night air; the pursuers have sighted them and are redoubling their speed. The race to the ford ts for dear life. The fugitives gain it, and are half way across before t einy reach the k. Even then escape seems impossible; a dozen builets plash the water, and the Sepoys, encouraged by their own numbers, are crossing the ford to come to close quarters. Breath- less and drippins, the women and children are pulled ap the bank, and the officers fol- low—one of ‘them. The other, with a stern ‘ his friend’s hand, anda forward gesture ‘ouragement or farewell, with a muttered “God bless you!” turns back into the water, and crouches under the bank like a stag at bay. ‘The Major hesitates; but the lives of his wife and children are at stakes. He hurries on with stifled curse. Then at intervals, amid the desultory fire of the Sepoys’ rifles, he hears the sharper eracks of a revolver and shrill cries of Fage and pain. The sounds are getting fainter in the distance, when there arises a fiendish yell gftrinmph. “God rest bis soul,” mutters the jor in bis turn. ‘So—there is'a swelling in my breast and a ehoRing in my throat that al- Ways comes when { think of this—so it was that I never saw my father, Captain M Michael of the Mth, but learned, as soon as I was old enough to understand it, the tale of how hedied to sa his friends, with his back to the bank and hi face to the foe. And he did not die in vail The little party reached the Enclish eamp in safety. and the story of his death has become a tradition in his regiment And now I. his d am sitting In the Porch of a quiet cottaze home amid Hereford shire orchards, ty gazing out upon the sha- dowed-flecked lawa, stoping from my feet down to the swiftly towing Teme. hastening by on its way to jeto'ttetSeverd. ’ Crossinz the river on my left “isan old bridge, wide and buiky and in front agentle hill rises from the stream, and cove this hill is a little town as picturesque and irrezular, as old-fash- fone’ and time-stained as can be found in any county of England. A massive chureh tower, old as the Domesday, crowns it, rising proudly amid mingled trees and roofs. The ruins of the castle are hidden by the shoulder of the slope; but from my post, at the door of our black and white cottaze. I} can see up the wide street which leads from the bridge until the prospect is Closed by the gloomy arch of the Broadgate, a great leafy elm. waving above it. It is summer, and there isahamming-of bees hoverinz above the Sweet-mmelima olt-fashioned flowers—the Qa man, the “London pride. the colum- bine—which fri t sreensward at my feet. This is not my home, but I ain so often here— whenever, in fact. my uncle can spare me—that many people believe Mrs. Cuszrove to be my mother. She died when I was born, the news of my father’s death killing her: and’ Mrs. Cos- grove, who had beem her friend, became indeed @ second mother to me. and so brought me home to Stuart Park. The gallant Colonel, her bus- band. fell at Delhi, and before th matiny was children ‘died. ith the eldest she settled in the little black and white cottage at Ludford, within a dozen mites of the park. Aud between these homes = 1 passed my lif This axing across at and quiet. my G if his wray suit and soft i the clothes in his ward- Lam at Luiford: but 1 like best to see him in these—the “ray goes so well with Ainslie’s trank « sunburnt face. 1 don’t know why. but he has not seemed so nice this visit. And yet { have enjoyed it Lam atraid that, favorite as ie mast be, the men of his regiment spoil him. He evidently dues not care to be with us as muc’ of old; the walks in the dusk of the evenins. when we would sit in some coruer upon the bill, and teil one another our different ambitions, and build castles in the air far surpassing the gray wails that faced us, have vanished like our dreams. I used. too, to 3 with him on his fishing excursions, bat now goes alone. Since he has been out in the World and been petted and welcomed everywhere Ht Suppose bis ideas have widened and I only bore mber.” he says, as_he throws himself upon the crassnear me and plays with the reel of his red. “I have a surprise fo Whom do you think I have seen in the to Some one who is coining here.” “I don't kuow. Iam sure: some one nice. I hope,” I say with a smile, going on with m Work, thoush lam really thioking to mysele “What a graceful figure he has'™ “Ob, of course he's nica. It's your cousin “I try tolook as if I bey im him very nice. for 1s he uot my cousin? And'I think I succeed. for , Who is watehing my face, kicks the turf savagely, and points toa man ina ridin dress and spurs. who is coming down the street. It is James. “I expect he is coming to say my grandfather Wants me.” Ainslie grumbies out something very like “Why doesn’t Sir Martin do his own Which is unreasonable. as my grandfather Is Dearly ninety: but [ discreetly pretend not to hear, und we-beth have to zet up and greet the new-comer. James is not looking well, I notice, ‘8S 5000 as he enters the wate. His face is paler ‘han is usual wit him, aud he looks eareworn and haczard. much as if my steady cousin had been keepiag late hours, and keeping {hem unprofitabiy. But he readily accepts the invitation to stay to dinner, whieh Ainslie gives him as earnest —hospitable as he is us it his company at that meal were the one thing he desired. “And James’ usual coi aad sauvity, which Sometimes make me feel so clumsy aad hosdeuisi, do not fail him. Pleture to yourself a man beiow the middie height! light-hairea, with a fair ‘arepiee eee tache, which hides his mouth, and small white hands always on the move: a zood-humored man withal. @ man of endless conversation—not ‘unly endless. but of rare power tu eharm, one Who will amuse you in spite of yourself: and so you have my cousiu, James Stuart McMichael, @ he sits upon the little lawn at Ludford. ask him how my grandiather ts, and fora Moment, as he quickly turns from me and caresses his mustache, I fear that he has come With bad news, But it Is not so. He assures me that Sir Martin istelernbly well, and does Rot expect me before the end of the week. And then we talk about indifferent things until my mother comes out to us and greets James bof He Is somewhat of a favorite with Although the day is fine, the river is full for the time of year, runni the garden with astrong stream towards the weir a hundred yards below. A group of children on the other side, whose laughter floats pleasantly over, are sending in a retriever after sticks. Near them a wall bounds the stream, but they are standing where anopening made tor watering horses. breaks the line of the little embankment. Lazily I watched the dog enjoying the sport as much as any one, until the biggest of the children throws one farther from the bank than befcre. Neptune springs in merrily, and swims quickly towards the morsel. which, on our side of the river, is invisible. Has it sunk? No, the cur- rent has caught it, and thedog, following it boldly. is carried down full 40 yards before he sei: it. He turns and breasts the stream, but. tired by his previous exertions, soon makes for the bank. The sheer wall, rising six feet from the water, gives him no chance of land- ing. Again and again he tries, and. each time failing, falls heavily back under water. Then the poor fellow loses his presence of mind, and instead of steadily swimming back to the open- ing in the wall he paddies to and fro, trying to clamber up, and wasting all his strength in these useless efforts. Even at this distance { can fancy his big patient eyes looking up pit- cously. and I jump up, but without an idea what 0 do. ‘Oh, Ainsite, he will be drowned !” . Amber, I think that-dog has had his a Says my cousin, without rising. Oh, if he could know how I hate him! Audibly, 'm afraid, I mutter “ Brate!” and I turn to Ainslie, who is leaning with one hand on the grass and the other shading his eyes, which are fixed upon the struggle. “I'm afraid there is nothing else for it,” says he quickly, and I hear the gate clash to behind him, and [ see his tall, straight figure speeding over the bridge. And we can only stand there and look on. TI cannot see how the dog is far- ing. I have only eyes tor Ainslie coming to the resene. He reaches the spot, flings off his coat and shoes and plunges in. A moment's strag- gle, and with one hand on the dog’s collar, he 1s swimming slowly towards the opening in the wall. Very slowly it seems to two of us; but his touch gives new courage to the” dog, the steady strokes conquer, and both are helped out by the dozen hands ready to receive them and toattend to the pe dog. I have no thought of him now; an only watch the drenched figure that so quickly tears itself from « crowd, and comes running back, looking a little ashamed of his enthusiasm, as I have noticed men will took when they have done anything to be proud of. ido not wait for him, but have fled into the house. And I am so proud. 0, so proud of him, that I cry a little bit- and have to wash my face before I go down stairs; and if Icame down a woman and wiser, with aknowledge of inyselfand of others gained from those tears which I had not Possessed before, that knowledge is very far from making me sadder. But it does in some way make me more shy; I think myself clumsy and awkward and ill at ease, and it is not my cousin's superabundance of blandness which makes me so now. Yet, through my own reserve and consciousness 1 gain a glorious glimpse that makes me sing as later I ¢o to bed into the feelings that may lie behind those signs in another. It was unlucky that the episode of the dog which 1 have set down at length should have occurred on that pasticular day. This is an after thought, for at the time I had no idea of concealing my feelings towards James, or the opinion of him which this unlucky incident had led me to form. As things were to be it was unlucky forit made me reject the suit, which it appeared he came to proffer in a way I should not otherwise have adopted. It was in the gar- den that he spoke; after dinner, when the lights in the town were beginning to sparkle In the dusk. He spoke well—James never failed to do that—but the earnestness was not all feigned— my woman's vanity, angry as I was, forbade me to believe that; and now I have better meana of Knowing what mind lay behind that pale face and those shifting hands, that seemed in the moment of pleading to have cast aside disguise. “No, James. it cannot be!” I said at last, tired ofhis protestations. “My answer woula have been just the same yesterday; but I could never like in that way a man who could let a dog die ith a cynical sneer.” ou will think better of this, Amber,” he said, with a pale smile. “T shall never think better of you,” I an- swered savagely, crushing down the pity I felt for his disappointment by working myself into a rage. He had pressed me sore before we parted thus; yet whea, on leaving, he: offered me his hand, he smiled 80 blandly that I could fancy it acream. And seeing him smile so, and Ainslie crossing the bridge with his hands on the horse’s neck, I was somehow uneasy without rhyme or reason. Il. We were at breakfast the morning after James’ visit, when Ainslie, who had had his and gone into the town to the little reading-room, entered hastily with news in his face. “Amber, [have heardin the town that Sir Martin is ill. I came in to tell you at once; but there can be no reason for alarin, or we should have been the first to hear it.” “Grandpa ill! How can that be? James said he was as well as usual.” “Sir Martin must have been taken ill after James left the park. Still, I wonder that he has not telegraphed toyou. Thereis a train at eleven which reaches the station by a quarter to twelve. 1 could drive you almost as soon it I could geta decent nag from the Angel.” Bat. slow as was the little cross country line, I preferred to trust to it. Needless to say, I was in great distress at the news. My grandfather, cold and unsympathetic as he was, was yet the only relative I had in the world except James, his younger son's child. Sir Martin, people said. had never recovered from his grief at the death of both his sons in the same year—my father in India, and his brother of Cypboe fever at the park. But he had always been kind to me in his stern way. Though I had long known that cherished the wish that [ should become James’ wife, he had never clearly wentioned it | to me. “Wor you rather have a compartment to yourself?” Ainslie asked, as he opened the door of one in which a middle-aged man. much wrapped up, was already ensconced. 1 had no maid with me.the dear little cottage at Ludford hardly sutficing tor one visitor. “O dear, no!” [ said, making myself comfort- able. “1 will let you know how Sir Martin is.” And before I could say more we were moving away from the platform. My thoughts, as 1 tried to catch a last glimpee of him, were hardly cheerful; but they were speedily inter- rupted by my companion speaking. “Pray excuse me.” he said suddenly: ‘may T ask if you were speaking of Sir Mactin Mc- Michael of Stuart Park?" I took agood look at him before answering; but though it was August, he was so ered wrapped up that I could not see much. By his brown complexion, I should have judged him to be a foreigner; his moustache was oe white, but his face, where I could see it was un- wrinkled—he might be fifty. His were keea enough, and his voice undoubtedly that of a gentleman. by my survey, I apawered; “Yes, he has been taken ill suddenly. Do you know him?” “1 did once,” he answered, with a restless movement. “Are yenaciog toStuart Park?” 1 bowed, and looked out of my window, con- scious that he was scrutinizing me earnestly. He said nothing more, and. creepin; through innumerable i stations, we reach Stuart Town. me. an omission—for it was two miles to the Tark—which filled me with fear. My grand- father must be very ill. the station- master's offer of assistance, I set out to walk the distance. Before I reached the house, when Its great stack of chimneys and old Tudor gables were Just appearing among the trees, I met James coming hastily to meet me. He seemed ner- but his first words ex- vous and plained this. “Sir Martin Is worse, Amber—very ill, I fear. He was attacked while I was away yesterday. I hastened to pee ren thatnone of the servants might see you and tell him that you were come, without preparation.” hat was good of you, James. I'am glad that : Sale in by the lodge-gate “Yes; ou come or the little bri idle ne i ea ait “By the . Are you in way?” He had turned off into a path which led to a side door in the right wing. Preter- naturally acute, and the slightest shock of noise must be avoided.” He told me other details as we passed, with- os Gags <8 to rooms on pti oor in the right wi ve my maid's, te ee rooms he for from the was & windows of the Stretton Hills could be fo the shrul “Watkyns, y cousin... “She I knew of it. FE ‘3 i i 3. 4 off my things without the slightest suspicion. When I came back Anto the sitting-room the maid—a tall, stupld-looking woman, much older than Watkyns—was standing Py dow. On thetable was a tray with luncheon. But I had no appetite and I went at once to the door. It was locked. “There 1s something the matter with the door,” I said, after fumbling at it for a moment. The woman by the window did not turn or make any reply. “Do you hear?” I cried, irritated by her silence. “There is something the matter, Open the door, please.” She turned, and, sullen as was her face, she looked Il at ease with what she had to say. “You cannot get ont, miss. It’s as well to ‘understand it at once. The door’s locked on the outside; and until he who has the key comes back here you must stay.” “Are you mad?” I cried, trying to crush down my fears. “Give me the key at once, and don’t talk nonsense “I haven't got it,” she said apathetically. “It is no good being angry with me. Iam as much a prisoner as you are.” Good Heavens!" I cried; “do you know that I am mistress here? My grandfather is ill, and I must go to him. Open this door at once; or, if it is fastened, ring the bell.” She made no answer, but nodded grimly at the place where the bell-rope should have been. It was gone. and even the wire was broken. Then, when I perceived that it was an arranged scheme a sudden feeling of helplessness came over me. Iremembered that a green baize door shut in the little suite of rooms, and would effectually prevent any alarm reaching the other parts of the house. The windows were securely fast— ened, but even if I broke one and shouted with all the strength of my lungs the noise would hardly pierce the shrubberies. And yet, while I felt myself growing paler, it seemed so ridicu- lous that I, the mistress, should be imprisoned in my own rooms! What could be the motive? Except the station master I had not seen any ong who would be likely to mention my arrivai, Was that why James asked me if I had passed the lodge? Was my grandfather really 11? Yes, of that, as the report came from Ainslie, there could be no doubt. This mast be my cousin’s doing, out of revenge for my refusal of his suit. Improba- ble, almost absurd, as it seemed, that must be the case, thouzh I could not guess his ultimate intention. I must have my wits about me. I ate my lunch, the woman waiting upon me re- spectiully enough. How wearily passed the hours until it grew dark! and then a step sounded in the passage, a key was put in the lock, and James entered and locked the door behind him. He made a sign to the woman, and she retired into the bedroom and closed the door. “We won't beat about the bush, Amber. You have discovered by this time that you are m: prisoner. No one knows that you are here, an until I say the word no one will know. The household is in confusion, owing to Sir Martin's iUlness.” “He ts ill! Oh, James, how can you keep me ere 2” “I will tell you in a few words. Sir Martin, who cannot live three days, the doctors say, made his will yesterday. He belleves, Amber, that you will marry me. Ihave told him so. Will you let it be? and I will take you to him this moment.” He drew nearer. “And if I do not—what then 2” “Then you will not see him. He has made his will in that belief; and has left all to go to me with the title, feeling sure that I shall do what is right by you. If he dies, or rather when he dies, you will be penniless. I am playing both for love and fortune, Amber. If you will not marry me, at least you will take no fortune to your husband.” He said much to the same effect, but only ex- cited more and more my indignation and anger. 1 refased to bind myself, refused with scorn; and he left me, after telling me how fatile was all hope that I should bereleased unless I would promise to do as he wished. He vowed that he had planned to keep meat Ludford in ignorance of Sir Martin’s illness, satisfying the old man with lying excuses for my absence. But the news oozed out, as we know, and then ms tele- gram announced that he was defeated—that I was coming. In his perplexity he hit upon the desperate scheme of shutting me up in my own rooms; and with this success. All this he told me. So wild did it render me that I tried to take the key from him by main force when he rose to . . The woman pulled me back, and sobbing ieteniy wita rage and grief I flung myself upon my bed. Slowly the weary hours of night wore away. Now I would leap restlessly up and try the door; now I would strive to move the woman, persuade, bribe, frighten her; but all in vain. Now I would moan as I conjured tp the picture of my dying grand- father only a few rooms away calling upon my name. Jt was a frigntful night indeed. Early in the morning James came again; this time he stayed merely to ask if my resolution held out; and finaing that I loathed him he went sullenly away again. He was haggard and per- plexed; could my grandtather have takena turn for the better? My heart leapt high with hope and then sank; would Sir Martin be safe in a unscrupulous cousin’s hands? And this add another terror to my position. Through the baize door came no sound of life. At dusk he paid us a third visit. It was fralt- Jess, though told me that Sir Martin was worse; and more dark-eyed and rd than ever, went away again. This time I made u my mind that I would escape. My passion worn itself out by this time, and fear had taken its place. Inthe dark I satand watched my passive keeper, and turned from her to glance round the room for the meansof escape. I could, perhaps, let myself down from the window, if f could get ridofher. If! An, that if! The rid- dle was to be solved in a different way. About nine o'clock I heard the swing-door fall to with @ bang quite unlike the stealthy way in which my cousin came and went; then hurried footsteps along the nd then the noise of some one searching for the door- handle in the dark. I aprang-ap, wild with excitement—perhaps it was witli fear. My im- movable companion even looked alarmed. We stared into one another's eyes. “Amber! Miss McMichael, are you there?” 0 joy, it was Alnslie’s voice! My heart leapt high with the sudden revulsion. How the fear and dread that were overwhelming me passed away at the sound! He knew onr situation; for without losing time he warned me to stand back from the door, and, throwing himself against it, at the second attempt burst it in. In a moment, he was inside and his arm around me. “Take me to him, Ainslie; take me to ‘him,” I as we were leaving the room and look face. “* Are you prepared for a great shock, dear? Will you be very brave? It is good news, my darling; better than you canimagine. There is some one with Sir Martin who has at present a better right to you even than I have.” T nodded anxiously; not comprehending what he was saying, but only eager to be my grandfather's Cats We ods sed ete ar eral passages, deserted, an: confusion into which the house was thrown. In the corridor outside Sir Martin's room all the servants were collected. They made pray for us, but seemed inno degree surprised at our sudden appearance together: Ainslie opened the door, and led me The old man’s sight was failing, and to suit it the 1 lied room was lit with numerous candles, which yet failed to dispel the [pen My grandfather was greatly changed. iis face was wan and drawn; but the shadow of death seemed to be held at bay by the painful look of anxiety and doubt that. his features. There was someone standing by his bedside, away from whom J took to be the nurse. At the foot of the bed was my treacher— ous cousin, in an attitude, as we entered, of in- dignant denial. He did not see us or the ser- vants who, over our shoulders, peeped in with looks of sacred wonder. As we entered he took a step nearer to the bed, as :f to separate the other two. “I have told you, sir, m: cousin, has promised to me, in a few. hours she w be here and will cried. He knew to whom I meant, yet ee in my “She is at Ludford, Sir Martin. She has been sent for, and in a few hours Santee answered James, pretending to look at watch. “You James McMichael! She is not at Ludford. She is here, in your power.” ‘he speaker advanced of = memory was gone. For seventeen years he lived harmless, ind ang yenerated by the Hindoos of the village agg sacfed person, and jealously Pte a igen by them as the source of thei Prosperity. At the end of those long, dark years, an army doctor fell in with him, be- came interested:im what he heard from the vil- lagers about him, and by an operation restored him truly as Traps orgs £0 life. The seventeen years was a ik; but all that went before, to the figitt at Kolapore, was as the events - Sire mengglrempets seal sy = Tecoga! yamany: jombay; is an stance, every ass! were supplied, that he might regain his position. You know how oppor- tunely he ret . My grandtathter died'a few days later with my hand in his, and‘his Read on his son's shoulder. Of course his-<will~was altered; but James, though left dependent upon my father's gener- osity, has had no cause to complain. We have never seen himsince. It was Ainslie, who driv- ing over to make inquiries fell In with my father, as he was trying to ascertain how things were at the Park. Thev compared notes, and knowing that I had arrived at the station, guessed pretty nearly the truth of the matter. A few months later Ainslie and I were mar- ried, and if my life before was a happy one wh: shall I say of it now that 1 have gained bothr father and a husband, whose only object seems to be to give me fresh cause for gratitude? I have two homes now, Ludford and the Park, and really it would be hard to say at which I am most happy. So I will not try.—Zondon Society. Bob White Shooting. Prof. Alfred M. Mayer, of the Stevens Insti- tute of technology, contributes an illustrated article to the August Century on Bob White,the game bird of America. The author gives this advice to beginners: ‘To become a successful shot at Bob White the sportsman should bear in mind that Bob, immediately after he has sprung, flies with a velocity which probably ex- ceeds that of any other bird; and also that, un- Jess fairly nit, he can carry off a large number of pellets. ‘When a covey springs it rises at a considerable angle with the ground. Hence, in shooting at a bird in a flushed covey the sports- man of unsteady nerves and sluggish muscles is apt to undershoot, the bird rising with such velocity that by the time the gunner has brought his gun into position the bird has passed above his line of sight. Asaruie I think that abont one second generally ela between the instant of springing of the bird and the moment of fire. This- interval gives the bird time to gain a moderately horizontal Ine of filght,and allows the sportaman to get a fair aim. “In shooting at an incoming bird,let him be out. of sight and just below the rib of your gun at the moment of firing. Ata bird going over- head, wait till he has passed well over; then shoot under him. At straightaway shots hold a little high, so that you Just catch a glimpse of the bird over your ls, “Tn shooting at cross shots, it should be un- derstood that the velocity ot an ounce of No. 8 shot driven with three drams of powder isnear to 900 feet per second. In that second a Bob White, if under full headway, will go 88 feet, it we estimate the ee of his flight so low as only a milea minute. Ifheis flying directly across your line of sight and thirty yards off. the shot will take one-tenth of asecond to reach that distance, and in one-tenth of a second the bird has gone over eight and elght-tenths feet. So, if we should fire a snap shot, dtrectly at’ cross-fiying birds, thyty yards dis tant, the center “of the cloud of shot would fall abdut nine feet behind him, and he would pass by goscathed. To kill him ‘clean,’ you must hold nine feet ahead of him. To some sportsmen, nine feet may seem a great distance to ‘hold ahead’ on\a cross-flying bird thirty yards away, but not to those who have noticed attentively the relations of the line of their aim to the position of the- bird at the very moment hear the repart of their gun. Also, estima- tions of distant in’ the air beside a smal! and quickly moving object are very unreliable, and often when the sportsman thinks he has fired only one foot aleas a bird he has really held ahead three teet. Let some one suspend hori- zontally in thé air an unfamiliar object that must be distaftt from fence rails and other things whose dimendions you know, and then guess its length. You will. atter a few trials, be satisfied thatthe imation of actual lengths at thirty yards fs ve loose guess-work.” A Strange Hallucination. Dr. Tyman Santee, a resident of Luzerne county, Pa., has had perhaps the most remark- able experience on record. The doctor is a man of medium size, about thirty years of age, of great Intelligence’ and undoubted veracity. Though there is nothing in his manner to sug- gest anything unusual, yet the world in which he moves could not be to him more unlike our own if he lived on another planet. When Dr. Santee was ten years younger he one day took a stroll, peconding: an eminence of considerable height at some distance trom his father's house, The view from this point was delightful in the extreme, extending away for miles toward the north and west. Far below the admiring youth swept along the broad river; beyond it were tbe rolling hills, which father on swelled into the rugged mountains, where range beyond range rose higher and higher till the last hazy summits mingled with the wonderful blue of the summer sky. It was late in the day, and the great red sun hung in the golden west. Tyman Santee, who in early life was some- what given to die fancies, on the solitary moun- tain betook himself to the strange task of con- pasting the size of his frame with the magni- tude of the scene before him; and it seemed to him that he was only a manikin clinging to the cliff above the plain. While indulging in this and similar thoughts he became bewildered, and the size of everything around him suddenty diminished to one-tenth of its former dimen- sions. The great pine at his side became a little sapling, the huge monntain on which he stood but alittle mound, the river below appearep only a silver thread, and the setting sun but a blazing star in the sky. The great earth itself, from horizon to horizon, seemed only a tew acres in extent, while the sky appeared to have fallen toward the earth. Alarmed at this strange occurrence, the doo- tor left the mouvtain and hurried home. The Toad seemed no wider than a cowpath, and the fence on each side only a few inches high. He came to a horse and carriage standing by the Toadside. The horse looked as small as a Poodle, and the buggy by no means as large as a baby carriage. Farther on he met aman, and was struck with amazement. He was surely no more than six inches in height. He gazed on his own frame and-saw that he wasof the same insignificant stature. When he entered his father’s house everything was painfully small.. The house iteclf was ap- parently only about two feet and a half high. His little mother, smaller than himself, was ler moving around like an animated preparing the evening meal. Then his father came in, a miserable little dwarf, likehimself. There were the table, and the tiny dishes containing food, the little etc., all no larger than toys. fpr dyer porperapen recot vered 1870, while en- again suddenh SS euaare wort 5 surronni apyem: alludes to aH 4 tually reconci! lot. and scarcely hopes ul oft world he 80 well remembers, but which he is, permitted to see only in his —+ 0 __—_ A Young! Maa.ef Fine Promise. ee A : : Mr. Tilden ay anda span of Ken- tucky thoronghbreda, dumb-beils and Indian clubs until gan’t. rest, and has ordered half caught 2” Go ay I don't want to Aight." “Maybe ‘you don't think Fone ™ “Tt don't make AUCTION SALES. ne ss 0 | Dar [OMAS DOWLING, Aucuoneer. a4 Ney aT oa nC. faba eas poweeee. Auctionser, “BRL le GeV et co ‘Y¥EE‘’S AGUE CURE, WHEN USED ACOORDING to directions, 1s warranted to eradicate from the system all forms of malarial disease, such as Fever and Awuc, Chill Fever, Intermittant, Memittant and Bili- > of WEDNESDAY AFT! RNOO \, 81 ous Fevers, and disorders of the ir. ‘Try it. The irtne of = Cran | on a, cxperlinent is a eafe one, and will eost youncthing if | $52."Rc- ‘Ouelot the ined resords for tee Diesen, IVE OCLOC! I mall the ‘ure is not effected. Solum oe, ered; : a By teh GLOOMY FEARS, THE DESPONDING | fi tect ot T viws the yentinees of Sal Gatmany eee ee | Hats would often disappear were the blood made pare and ‘healthy before reaching the delicate vessels of the brain. i © alley : ‘east on sald years, with notes beariny interest at per Aver'e “areapariila purifies and vitalizes the blood; and | Sifey'Is fect: thence mr 100 foe © ince te ae fet annum Until paid. Sud soured by e deed of tristaw thus comduces to health of body and sanity of mind. of ru ;. improved by a four-room frame di % bad pees fom pee at purchaser's cost, : apt pe eee | aoe = ments, at aix ve ¥ ALTER B. Wi MS & CO., Auctionsars. ‘and secured deed ‘on the said | WW MS & CO., Droperty..{ onveyrmciny at purchaser's cost A Geyroat TRUSTIE'S SALT OF ELEGANT AND FURNITURY, BODY BRUSSELS ACD OTHER FALPETS, BDDING. 8. AT AUCTION. folio EP DRTH, A.D. 1883, commencing at TEN OCLOx A.M., on the preaises, No. 117 C street movtheant. the Furniture, ina. Ci etc., mentioned in the schedule attached to suid deed of trast, wamed in part: ‘Handsome Pariot Suite, upholstered fn raw silk, Patent Rocker, upholstered in Taw ak, Ebony Tables, covered with plush; baay Chains, Handsome Walnut Chamber Suites. ‘Walnut Marble-top Buffet, Dining-room Chairs, brace arm. Walnut Chiffonier, very enstly; Hall Rack, mirror back. Walnut Pilar Fxtension Table z Walnut » y. of the underaigned unt | Lace Curtains and | am) ju Bs. A splendid chance ts offered toany | Walnut Library Tabien, Waluut Writh Boston Fearing that some of my stock on the third floor of BES ae zane a ing Desk, Ri my store has been slightly damsged by smoke caused eee Ga eae ee meres, Couches, Walnut Folding Chatr. by the Ino fire next door to usand praferran not to | SH 2h ytte OEE Fans Forearm | Macon Sinn Hote, War fal vim take any farther risk, I bave therefore concluded to Building, 416 Sth street northwest. Body Brussels, Tapestry, Ingrain and other Carpets. fer theme pods at ry prow Yo weour seme | “tors wht a ieeat Ma ate th | Maree Sea ey a Ces meianee =e Towels, ¥ ‘das, Spriners, ete. a IHOMAS DOWLING. Auctioneer, Many other artic: too numerous te mention. THESE GOODS ABE NOT OLD STOCK. e above colleett iture E of furniture is in perfect order NO ODDS AND E! CAKPETS, STAIR CARPETS AND OLLCLOTHS, | *U28-4 eee is, WAL EXTENSION TABLE. COOKING. AND | qf%q,ciNE ABOVE SAL2 Ts, posray ant Te ‘but new goods kept as reserve stock. HEATING STOVES, KITCHEN REQUISITES, | Quine bourasd plese Booher ee 18s 1 Lot Ladies’ CHEMISES AND DRAWERS, of | 40. sae oe - ALi i FOLEY, Auctioneer. splendid muslin, at 32 ceats, ONE SIDEBAR BUGGY, SLEIGH. MONDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER TENTH, T vill the stock of 1 and Fancy Gooda, con- 1 Lot Lediet CHEMISES DRAWERS, AND | 1G% TER O'CLOCK, au No. 3380 P ot 34 street, | taiued iulttore 8 3h inet norte a ence Georgetown, D.C., Tahal rect. con me my x Rae OF excnllent cotton, trimmed and tacked, at | GlSTeSsewm D.C. cea te DOWLING: Auct. ARATE Of 0% 'K, znd will continue from day to day canta. = Until allie dieposed af LEY, Auctioneer. _ Tho stock consists of Ske, ‘On MONDAY. SEPTEMBER TENTH, at TFN AND a4 ‘will be a areat sj ‘ale of Garhi Table Li Sash, wart Spreads, White Goode Honlery, lerwear, Ci Ls broideries, tn. 1Lot Muslin Underwear of the best, CHEMISES, ¥ AHA . M., there DRAWERS, SKIRTS, AND NIGHTDRESSES, | AHALF & Mika vation, Sit vets inias | Lacon ad Em Drom hic, hein fl trimmed with embroidery, at 75 cents. net, Navy Blue, Vel ‘Lawns and other articles too nutaerous to mention. in allshades, fine Black eres, 40 and 46 inches Ladies are specially invited to attend this nalc, as the OTHER BARGAINS IN WHITE GOODS, TABLE | wide, Ale. fine Dress Go Gan aCh Plaids, all wool: | goods are fine and will be sold witho t reserve. LINENS, TOWELS, and general House Furnishing | ZepieLineln Housekesning Goods, and the balance | 35:30 een ee, Goods, suction will close uext Saturday, ladies are particularly. nvited to atiend this special e sold without AT Bavirs, ‘eepr-se ant? 416 Seventh street. —C RS. BUOTHERS AND, GRAY GIVE NO. FRER street northwest, TUES- Preeeriptions and send you to some «ide-show Guur §, Ix © BAR SRE EPR A Sopot | Saeco ft pte fhe ra fs f MACECR AM NLOTEInG Consisting oko as 8 = —— gait Dra. REO 8 and GKAY, 906 B strecta. w. THE Ladies and Gentlemen’ medicine, guarantee ‘a cure or ho Tey. = Seis of Sewelrys racringes | Thirty-seven youre’ experience wriame ain teed pene pe HOIS 1HE MORT RELIABLE AND LONGEST: MISFIT STORE, nearly ne : two Silver Fisted Show eatablished Specialist in the city? Why. Dr. Cases, Commies. re pe above-named | BROTH! ES is—over thirty-two years—at 906 B st.s.we . deat private salo Defore the der of sale cen dean te | Sworn to before A.C. Kicharda, Justice of the Pesce, CORNER TENTH AND F STREETS, Ne er Se Be Ror sepi-im* ‘Being determined to make s Clean Sweep of the Entire Stock of Fine Clothing, previous to IHOMAS DOWLING, Auctioncer. ray Crtwoot Da. BROTIN In oneer, S11 7th etreet northwest. Wie EPSTORED BY USING A BO’ “is 1!) cure any case of Seminal Weakness, Nervous De- bil to the taking alterations, Prices have AND 1) STREETS SOUTHWEST, BEING PREM- J ADIES, YOU CAN CONFIDENTLY OONSULE ISES 1306 D STREET AND 401 THIRTEENTH Pu Bhc HENS, 906 B street eouthwost, been cut down regard- STREET. Uiarattention paid to all diseases peculiar to Ladies, mare By virtue of a decree of the Supreme Court of ned or single. All irregularities and Ovarian tr abies Jens of cost or fe Listrct of Columbia, vareed ta equity caus: Freated.Phaicty "Ave Sean expe oe. audT-ima™ value on Mili otter forsale at pubis auctine os WEERESDAR, J) %, ROBERTSON, “A REGULAR GitaDUAT =. 3 the MAE(EENTH DAY UF SEPTEMBER, A.D’ 31are experience, ‘8 cure in all diseases aes Pires wt ences Maha | Aeibeee erenteree oa eae SERRANO ESN VERE. Sttuate ithe city of Washington, Dintrietof col days, No mercury or caustics used. Can CASSIMERE SUITS, | te wit: of ‘original Lot uum! ton Sey Setewtey ant Setucday, trom 3 $08 Dim, at ee CHEVIOT SUITS. iuproved by two fae tees ad more. Main ofioe, 30 N-Liberty at matinee Ma eat BLUE FLANNEL SUITS, Bfty (50) fect on 13th ‘street west and has a depth of | 3 Leoie FEMALE FLL M Soin YACHT CLOTH SUITS, | SY=zty (10) fest end ten (10) tnehes, or there:bouts on | WM Kiaraes on tetera fi, Beet eS a mae SUITS, ing thercto willbe Het otloted. tahees Eas a io bit ssh ss ‘sedhinag bones thhanrmmaniin: BLACK CLOTH AND DIAGONAL SUITS, | his discretion. should de-ma it eg adeauate | discretio's of youth, nervous early decay, BOYS SUITS, then the property will be offered as an ent a ee pa ay that will cue yon, FREE OF CHARGE. ‘This great remedy was covered & missionary in South America, sel!-acidi eased envelope to the Kxv. J: Btation D, New York City. MAx#00p A vietitn of early tmprnaence, causing Nervous bility, Premature Decav, ete... hinving tried. in every kuown Tor edy, ban discovered & simple ident “Addion JH KEEVES. 55 Chaultmn eet « ome J New York. 3y10-tu, thee JRRREST 70 TAD Anes May “eomunn i |, bedore, ci ckrrcay, with Medica’ Preatmene “iene haan y. Addvens Mra. M, Ge ty 116 North Car ¢ #treet, Baltimore. Dr. oe Mervin, Tomo for the Ger.crative Organs, $1 per bottle. de15-3m* wap! Biavu CHILDREN’S SUITS. ODD FLANNEL CoaTs, NUN'S CLOTH COATS, ALPACA COATS, LIGHT-WEIGHT OVERCOATS, GOSSIMER COATS, OFFICE COATS. Our Motto: No trouble toshowgoods. Satisfaction guaranteed to all purchasers, at the ‘months. If sold in one ‘one. and remainder in ne (i) and two) ments to be made on ‘aay reafter. and twelve (12) third (3s) cai years. Cs erty should be sold in oae lot, a a-porit of nade at time of sale. If sold in two lots, then $100 de- Dostt for the larger and $50 for the smaller part at ame = U conveyancing se rebaser or thervof with resold at chaser or upon the same: aa MISFIT STORE, Tecording to be at costof | fanily sever %, the (wroperty, 1 {ywnch delat io masdee wal Taek and cost of the defaulting pur- purchasers, ‘after five (5) days" notice, ‘aud termes as first sale. HOMAS I GARDNER, Trustes, HON. aia ibcemret moreineet, ‘TENTH anp F STREETS. Be sure and come to corner 10th and F streets. sul7 GREAT REDUCTION IN WALL PAPERS, Look at our Following Prices, DR. MOTT'S FRENCH POWD! {ertain cue oral Urinary Diss, er ee Gilt Pay end Peni ERS BU ENTWISLE'S corner 150) ttretend pore eral OD Teceim of price _—_—S=———_—_——_—. Ni On! A To rae PUBrrer {vm} hss up. ‘All «rades of hung for 15c. a pleos, and all size borders and frelacs tng f5e- a piece. S74 A order. All work cuaranted to be first-class, as we employ no tue Diset He: sald p cod’tben nly to his most intimate Becdite accustomed of a decree of the Supreme Court of; ‘of Columbia, ‘on the 234 de Of July. A.D. 1883, in Equity, Cause No. 8,625, Doc. 23, wherein Martin V. B. Hoffman et al. ts and Lawrence Callan et al. were ants, and also by virtue of the deed of trust in lings described, on SATURDAY, SEPTE MI IFTEENTH, A. D., at FOUK O'CLOCK P. Mt. prentice “TGail before purchasing elsewhere, and you will save At —_—s JNO. F. SPELSHOUSE, Agt. 521 7th street northwest, bet. E. and F streets, 2u25-Im ‘Washington, D. 0. Mends eee alomier Gives aad Oe, INVESTIGATE FOR YOURSELVES! General Gresham hat blished mabeious falsehood in toward tothe ~ terof The Louisiana state Pompey the lowing facts areqiven to the public to nin state met that we are euyagea in 4 fraudplent busincas, to Amount of prizes ‘The Louisiana State Lote te SN Paid to Southern E: H sad BER + HInTY ll at public anc- all that certain piece, situate in the City of Wadaine 1, 1879, to present date: ‘Co., New Orleans, a full depth thereof of original lot nu number five hundred and twelve (5! 1" house. ‘Terms of ‘as said decree. are ss follows: ‘All-ct the yarchase men the option of the pul , one-fourth cash and balance in equal yeariy inst iments, with ferred payments to ve secured by a decd of trust apon ane sold. ‘A deposit of $100 required st ‘the Hy ‘aud ail conveyancing at purchaser's No Preraraton—Always Ready—Always 1 EJ MIN F. LEIGH jendé Marble, Stone. Patches om Leather and Nubter z fice, 482 Lou Brerwbree a jard Cue —————— IHOMAS DOWLING, Auctionecr. TRUSTEES SALE OF HOUSE AND LOTS IN BLA- DiNSBUKG, By virtue of a ded of trust ay’ 187 Tnsepersble tenecity!t a ‘§ jummed Kabela, Texte Fabrice anos and Makers, nied by gallon Fine Cai; ‘bawyers, &c., su or barrel. Nt it Trait, post-paid, 10c, extra, 5 of June, ‘a Total paid as above. $2, 253,650 Matsa only by the niantactwrene, xy ~ Paid in. sums of under $1,000 at iiss varias JU. OOMEARA & CO., 1347 Pa. iG rs eee Cc. a Offices of the Company throughout the Live Axents wanted everywhere. Sold by e United States... 2,627,410 Grocers, Stationers, Hardware and reneral stores. sais ayaa yak. For the truth of the Cu. Rovrerr, above ‘the pubtic to the ofticers of the above-named corporations and f ORF lewal:ty apd stanaing to the Mayor aud Officers City of Be Orieanas, to the State suthorities NOS. 403 AND 405 1TH ETREET NORTHWEST. Toul fd aino to the v's. nici oot ouisionane HEADQU*RTFRS FOR THE WHITNEY CHIL- /e claim fo be local, hovest andcor: ‘our trane- DREN'S CARBIAGE COMPARE. potions. ak much Ko x any business am, te country, THE CHEAPEST FOR BEAUTY, COMFOBT AND see Fm wo for 3. vo! DURABILITY IN THE MARKET. Ercan, sodowses ty mney toe eS Lawn Tennis, Sepoee. Velocipedes, Arch- spected ery, jagons, £0. ‘M. A. DAUPHIN, President. “|, Call and examine the Goods, Prices to suit the times. aya SR-CAPITAL PRIZE $75,000. at TICKETS ONLY $5. SHARES IN PiVPORTION, LOUISIANA STATE LOTTERY COMPANY. cou cost. RICHARD 1. MUR - ki ‘Trustees. TEE GOKGE J. SLUFFERLE,S HOMA» DOWLING, Auctioneer. Fo USTER SALE TO1 F GTM SECTION ON! — S THES S10: RY FARM, D. ““Wedo that we supervion the arrange eo iaeepeots of tour, dated Bop em anemia for al the Mont and Semi-Annual Drawings 19th, A. UD. 1871, and recorded in “Liber Ko. 655, The Louisiana Sate Company. and tm pore G &C folie Ne. 196, ono of te land reaorda of L | Sea mance and contro! the 2 koma = Pigom, othe ee Rea ae ak Te teat So bee Copia to ae ths cerca, ith arate ow failed, this prepare | 51; Trout of the prom: | sinateree allachad. in tis aieertisements.” tien inslwaynedective. Rapid and extraor nary cure fe on SATURDAY. kt st in ine Hospitals of Paris by the celebrated De. icons: | 2.E Disttiches Cotas, oS “ed in the known. al Drugasta, ‘atdouealy” | SU the “Tramost of Barry Farm, somrdstr to tar pat = ton county, District of Columote he : unearned six and twelve month. with interest thereon. anooat Of $00 tobe made at time of ane. Tern are not toms pied within ton “days” the Trastes resecves the rach Tops the proverty atthe rat and cost of cefeuiung T THequizes no bolle, svoie sil expensive attendance, satire amoaatol porters monty hue been paid no loss of Gime, ‘no, otrpel, and no ashes. Tete | “SAM. X- WORMELY, Trustoo, 652 thet nie: | arcomorated in 1868 ee ee dott eo: TO ARe ao YED BE Pears mx we. eyo Eerecerpeecirs suas | pajon snbotonectows, BG: AT 200 | ih = ae tips caplcty of mechanics." ee gr NOipay, serrenen srvmernenr. ee emia = ——— : we} Lene on Ge Fl strest, Roving © Cok a finer orae douse Se. Soo having frost MONG THE MANY INSURANCE COMPANIES | by adept of a0 be izaprovemnate | pinse SSaomment pie oH mee Cee coast of sto sory baa Sealing ‘AFT: i. house | eAyae failure as the MUTUAL AES FONDUE | No. 125%, frovtng 4i fest on the weet alde of i il pressed —_™= or BABEE: A POBITIVE CURE FOR MALARIA. CHILLS AND