Evening Star Newspaper, August 2, 1890, Page 7

THE. EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON D. C., SATURDAY, AUGUST 2, 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES, on one side and a | out that intention and ive a birth “You mean all this?” she said again. that I was released snd I thought I was in my | We have also obtained an affidavit from the) LIVING TO A GREEN OLD AGE, T " if Tooetteerenaeeber Present worth having.” otis pad “Of course I mean it, What the devil should | cell 2 landlady of the lodgings, There is no doubt - T E OY E C AS A When the evenings are cold anddark the] “Oh!” said Harry, with a great sigh. I say it for uniess I meant it?” Brutality, you| “Dear,” said Naomi. “Fi tt the cell! Oh! | possible. How to Do It—Be Abstemious— Civilized Place is deserted. No one walks there after “On condition, of course. ‘Hang it, do you | see, once began must be kept up, even if one | Try to forget it. See, I have tht you my “What are you —going todo?” The ie This was the reason why a certain | suppose that I am going to admit any one, even | hashad enough of it. Yet I declare that to 4 TOUCHING TRAGEDY IN THE sunset, couple chose the place on one evening in Octo- ber. It was a litte after 7; the night had fallen ™my Own sons, into my house—the house I have this young man the recollection of hie father’s friend—my best friend. Ob! my dear. he knows all; he will advise us and help us. He bas been man caught the a ghastly face. “Man, it in ruin—absolute the chair and showed Man Eats More Than He Ought to. a, That the persons living to a green old age made—to share income, except on my own | fierce eyes and of his awful threats drove pity, | very and kind tome, dear—while we were | ruin—to me. You don't know what mischief who have - ra upon a gloomy day. A fresh breeze blew up the | terms?" 4 . love, memory, honor—everything out of his Because it was lonely without you— | you may be doing. I will Cr eta was et eee LIFE OF A POOR ENG- poms tearing the leaves off the trees, whirling | | “Well, sir.” said Harry, “I always supposed | mind. He had but one thought, to get out of | and when one thought no, no. it is ail ‘over. thing. abstemions themselves and either 3 them about inthe air and maki Grifti: you would have your own way in everything | the mess. Oh! my dear—my dear—it is all over and we are “At the trial your wife would say nothing; | sprang from poor families or came from LISH GIRL. heaps of them; the branches overhead creak ether I am to be » partner or not.” 1 pou Lave no pity? Consider—ob, I have | together again, and I can bear anything now— | word from her would have ruined A word | the sonth, where heavy meat meals are not en- the meadows were dark; the river was black; ‘You are right, my boy. My own way I] told you—consider—because you did love me RS se from you would have saved her. forgive- e CHAPTER L MY SISTER, OH! MY SISTER. drops of rain fell upon the faces of the pair whe wala side by aa, the young man’s arm around the girl's waist. “Tell me all,” he said. “Let me know the mean to have. Yet these are not my condi- tions. Now sit there and don’t answer a single word till I've done, You’ ad your fling, Harry; that yon can’t deny. You've lived in only a week or two ago——” “Drop it, Ruth, one of us two is going to be « pauper it shall not be me, if I can help it. We've had a good time, and it's over. But he turned away his face and the tears rolled down his cheeks even to his great gray beard. "Iwasa ness—what consideration can you hope?” Jorable, is a point made by the Paris corre- “I will buy silence at any price. Look here. Spondent of the London Trwih. “Guirot,” he there are only you says, “who was not a v1 0 ous trencherman, soft-hearted librarian. matter what Isay. I! did marry | started in poverty and wasa:.utherner, Thiers Yclock. At the win. sour own chambers and you've had a good | shall be taken care of. It is all over, Itell| “You have got to grow quite strong and well | her. I told her it was a false marriage be-| started in the same condition, ate twice a day 4 A sae Sage aa Sas cae kee allowance and nobody's ever asked any nasty | you. Gear,” ho said. taking herhand and low into which the poured its wealth of heat and light a brown blind was hauled down, leaving a long, narrow line. The sun took advan- tage of the line to make a thin plate or lamina of bright sunshine, across which the merry !" she murmured. “It puts new strength in me—only to hear you speak and to feel your presence. Naomi is anxious and troubles her- self about the future morning, noon and night. ae will it make no difference to you?” “My ones what youdid with your money. Very well, then, now that’s allover. A partner in my house has got to take his place—his own place, mind—in society.” The young man tur pale. “I've been offered a baronetcy. Weil, I won't have it; I mean to be made a “No—no, Oh!” She clasped her hands with acry ofangnish. “It is only beginning. Ob! it is beginning.” She sank into the chair he had left and buried her facein her hands. Then she sprang to her feet again as if there was no rest in her. gain, my holding it while he sat down beside her. “Quite strong and well before you think about any- thing. Poor child!” = om a8. never get strong or well again,” she replied. “I heard the doctor in the infirmar, say so. That matters nothi xcept that cause I was driven nearly mad. I suffered ter- | ang ribly at the time: sho ought to think of that; I very heartily, suffered terribly. 1 thought it was all over.” but was so heavy after eating as to be chiiged to go to “In her lifetime nothing was said. Bat your|*leep. He died of e-cplexy after eat. wife is dead.” “Dead? Is Ruth dead?” ened again. ing. I attribute the extraordinary differs His face bright-| ence in quality in the early and lave worke “Dead! Then it is all right, It} of Victor Hugo to his having only scant meals darling. how would anything make a| peer. Do you bear that? I shallbe Lord Thin- “Oh! sister—Naomi,” she cried. ‘‘Oh! | shall be such a trouble to ev: Oh! Na- | doesn’t matter to anybody.” when he wrote the former and to his having motes danced with their usual cheerfulness. | difference ton me? Do I not lore pepe omy te my and Se shall be the Honorable Harry. | my ftuotel how shall I tell her! Whatshall I| omi, dear, what a trouble I have been to you!|] “It matters to her memory and to her | plentiful and delicious o: to which be aia There was a smell of leather bindings; the | all—for all this world aud all the next?” Very well, then"—he marked his sentences with tables were covered with magazines and papers; He bent over her—he was a tall and gallant short pulls at his -—‘‘that’s understood. say? What willshe say? Oh! I would rather than tell her.” What a dreadful trouble. I have spoiled your whole life, my dear.” friends. She is dead, and now the story shall | the fullest justice. when hy urned out the lat- cer ea — Mr. Stoke, you will face the ee sora Hugo was spirituel before Invch ung fellow—and she raised her face to meet | Next thing, how is that pecrage to be advanced | He was leaning against the mantel shelf. He | _ “Not yo —not vou, Ruth,” Naomi answered, | whole truth.” or dinner: he was inflated in apeoch and bereft & few readers sat at the tables. ie ry and msde fo akees pestabie jiece? Money? | turned apesenny ‘and took up a little dagger | hoarsely. ‘But that villain—oh! that villain!” | Just then the door was thrown m and | of all sense of the ridiculous when digesting The librarian sat in his corner, ® many-| «He fell down,” she went on, “while John | Not enough! Land? that isn't enough! Pol- those glittering toys the} “Don't, dear. It hurts me that anybody * pigeon-holed cabinet against the wall at his side, a great book before him—no librarian is somplete without a great book before him— was putting up the shutters. He was standing at his desk and he fell down on face. He never spoke again or knew anybody or felt any- thing, And next morning about noon he itics? I’m too old and you are too stupid. Your brother Joe—the Honorable Joe he will be, may take up politics in the ii paper knife, one 0 andle hich is of mother-o’-pearl and the blade is of aa a blue steel, and be- gan to play with it, not even thinking of the toy. should call him names. At first Iwas hard upon him for the sake of my baby. It is very terrible for a child to be born in prison, isn’t it?—and for its mother to bea convict No Lord Perivale himself walked in; he his hand a little bundle of papers, which he | in his abstemiousness st threw upon the table. “What is the meaning of this announcement, jore in| either repast. M. de Ln almost oriental », he being of » having lived long in hot as heaithy as any to those ; not you. By marriage, my bo: 3 sir?” he asked his son; “and this and thie? In pt them: to the cl I dare and the usual materials for cataloguing on his man again changed color, Sut this time he be-| “I thought you had more sense,” he said, | child can ever get over that disgrace. But | the St. James Gazetle—in the Pall Mail—and in | say he owes his lon spirits te desk, because to carry on the eatalogue isas| He died.” echoed the lover. “Poor, dear | came crimson—“if you want to get any good | “than to go on like this, Well, yon know now | God took the child, and then 1 was happier. } the Observer of this morning. What does it | his sobriety in food as w: Becessary a part of the daily work as to open the day’s letters is for a secretary. He was man of sixty, or perhaps more, his beard white and his gray hair scauty on the top. The librarian of a free library is familiar with every kind of reader. He classifies them all. He is a sympathetic creature and they will confide their cases to him, asking for his advice. They donot seek it in search for a Ruth! You told me of this in yout letter. It was a terrible blow to you.” °. “I wrote to you about it. But I said nothing of what was discovered afterward.” “What was discovered?” “We always thought he was so well off. Everybody thought so. There was never any want of money. When he died tie people said we must remember how well off we should be left. and that ought to console us.” “Well, dear?” out of your rank you must marry into tho same blood as that into which your children will be born, By marriage, Harry. That's my condition. You will have to marry to please me. Do that, and you shali have whatever you like—you shall be a partner to begin with; you shall have no work to do; you shall have fashion, land and rank.” Harry made no reply. His color had now gone back to pallor und his hand trembled. “Those are my conditions," said his father what I had to say. Better’ go quietly and think it over. Come, Ruth, it won't be so hard, after all. I tell you that you shall always have a friend in me, and ——" “I cannot bear it, How can I tell her?_ Oh! I wish I was dead. How can I tell her? I will kill myself.” She wrung her hands, looking round the room as if for eome help or comfort there. “They all say that,” said the man. “But they don’t do it, you know.” There was only myself to think sbout, and I began to feel that it was worse for him than for me. Nothi: mn undo the past. I came to forgive hieay and would forget him if 1 could. But you can’t forget your husband, Women are made so——” “They are,” said the librarian. “God knows be Saad “Naomi, dear, you thought I was over- whelmed with the disgrace and shame of it No, dear. Inever could feel any disgrace— mean, I say? ‘On Friday, April 29, Ruth, wife of Hon, Henry Hendricksen Stoke of Chester square and Threadueedie street, daughter of the late Nathaniel Heron. J.P aged twenty-five.’ > roared his lordship. said the librarian, “what it says. Your son's wife is dead.” tas in drink, GOURMANDIZING WORSE TRAX DRUNKENNESS, “Volumes bave been written against drank- , of Burchester, | €hess. But any doctor who understands well What is this, I ask? His son looked at the announcement, but | aside humbug) that driak is not as bad int the human frame will tell you (if he can cast effects as gourmandizi senility as the latter. I non I’ Eenclos ate « she must have been temp orank, but fancy to be so brighty ae. in this announcement?” mayer pe as well as good looking, intoa ii be is F bi had been | “Have you anything to say?” She pushed back her hair; then she tore off | not even in the court. The convict dress was “Tdi : great old age, Catherine de dici made it a 7 esestesioen trie bas aye beers falling of pepo Tine at serge now His son opened his mouth, but no sound | her bpanet and let it fall, as if the sight of it | nothing to me, nor the prison rules, I obeyed “Then, sir, you shall smart for it if there is | rule to rise from table with an apy and to sometimes he knows or has heard things to pay rent and taxes, And as for what is left, | camo forth. : oppressed her. The wild look in her eyes and | the rules, and I did not mind them. You see, | law in the land . i i prefer lentils and onions and chestnuts to meat. may help them. it must all go to pay debts.” Perhaps I can help you, Harry.” His father | her white cheeks frightened the man—brute as | dear, I was innocent, But I hada sentence at wy lt is true, e librarian said, quietly. | She brought Italian confectionery inte fashion, Sometimes, however, as in the case of Naomi “Poor child! This is terrible, What will you | threw his head back and watched the blue- | he was, first far more terrible to bear. It was the sen- ‘Your son's wife and was always rating her married daughters Hellyer, he was altogether at sea. Naomi first | do?” white wreath curling over his face. “I am sure “Come Ruth,” he said, “be more sensible. | tence of my child's disgrace. It was only when ‘Who is dead; when she correspon: appeared on this Saturday evening. She came im timidly and looked about her with hesita- tion. There was no other woman in the place. “When people have got no money they must keep themselves, The dean came to see us this morning. You know there was no one who re- Ican help you, There is that little girl you have been fooling around for six months,” “What about her?” Consider—think a little. Let us part friends,” He held out his hand as one who seeks to con- ciliate. In it was the little dagger. I thought of you, dear, that I felt the disgrace to me—and this only—for your sake. For my own I felt nothing. When I told the doctor— With them for eating so It was Lady Boatrice who stood at the | much and fatiguing themselves o little. door, dressed ready for church, and asked this question. “M. Barthelemy Saint-Hilaire.though eighty. four, works as d with as little fatigue ashe ted fath than the dean. He says} “Iknow all about her. Sho's a girl in an| She snatched it from him. “No,” she cried. | it was only the other da —he cried about it, ho is dead?” she repeated. o ever did in his life. Twenty vears ago he said Perhaps women were not admitted. Then the | thet we must be brave cod mote ihe vector | Oxtond oment ean shop; her sister is|em-| “I will never tell Naomi, ‘You muy voll Hot | He ia kind man thought he prison dooton hhis man's wife 1s dead,” said the librarian, | to me: ‘Iam persuaded that ha cinta a librarian stepped out of his corner and invited | things.” ployed at a Regent strect dress maker's, They | you. I will kill myself,” Yes—let me go—let| “Oh! my friend,” said Naomi, “what shall I | pointing to her own husband. eats three times more than he needs when he her to take seat and ask for anything she| “Yes—bat, my child, I cannot bear to think | are respectable girls, which makes it the more | mo go. I will kill myself.” do? What shall I do? It tears my heart to is wife? What do you mean? might want. of your having to work. These pretty hands should do nothing but play with pretty things.” dangerous.” : 4 “I've given my—my word to that girl,” said She fought with the strength of despair while he tried to wrench the weapon from her hand. hear her and to look at her.” Well, there was very little tobe done. The is wife died on Friday. She willbe buried | too poor until I the day after tomorrow.” is not checked by poverty. For my part, 1 was elderly to be a gourmand, and when I now go to di i's house t He saw a woman of thirty, dressed in the | *".. Raauai,” oni tty | Harry, but with an apprehensive glance at his | Then his—her—feet canght, and they fell upon | librarian, who now showed himecif a person of | “Harry! what ws the meaning of this?” Rhe | only play with my knite a . Dinner isa black stuff frock of a solemnity with a cloth aoe eae ryt levee iii nas cae ered mastattal father. = . the floor, he uuderm al e . Ps infinite resource, went away that very morning | caught her husband by the arm. “Speak! what | mistake.’ The czar, by rs and his uncles jacket, though it was so warm an evening. Her | she is quite sure to geta good place somewhere. “Idou't care what you have given her.| When the gir!’s shrieks called in the house-| and bron, ht back with him a medical man of eee mea ms . are = amaeions. and what a heavy, dress was perfectly neat and well fitting; her | She says that she could not take a situation in | You've got to get rid of her.” keeper from the next set of chambers, she was | Wonderful wee be amagical medical man— means—it means—” but he could not fin- | wearied lot t all look. uuwieldy as megath- Lo ale si the towns to be reminded all day long how we gloves were worn; she had the appearance of esolute respectability coupled with small pay. Her face was thin and pale and her features delicate. She was not beautiful, but she looked steady and serious—what is cailed responsible. The librarian noticed these things; he also no- ticed that there was trouble in the face—abid- have come down. So she will go to London, and I must go with her. Then I shall be near you, Harry; and perhaps—perhaps——” “Perhaps what, dear?” “Perhaps, before long, you will be able to take me away for good, and then I will work at “I must keep my word.” ‘The son got up and stood before his father with dogged face. When two obstinate faces gaze upon each other one or the other has got to give in; every- body knows that, “I said, Harry. that you've got to get rid of her. As for your word, or any other mess you standing over Mr. Harry Stoke, who lay on his back—white in the face—lying in his blood. Upon her dress was blood; upon her hands was blood, and in her right hand the paper-knife which she had torn from the ribs of the wounded man was dripping blood. to see the girl and told him pieces of the story. ‘The medical may said that, considering every- thing, it was fortunate she had not died in prison and that she would certainly die before many weeks; that to such an organization as this woman seemed to have love and happiness were the food of life; then he added: ‘What a ish the sentence. eriums, and about as intelligent. I have never “‘Itmeans that this man’s lawfal wife is dead,” | doubted since L began to think upon the sub- the librarian continued, *“This man was mai ject that orge Ill ate himself into the mad d five years ago at a registrar's office to Ruth | doctors’ iands and Louis AVI into semi-imbe- Heron under the name of Henry Hendricksen, cility, which was his mother's name. terday at her sister's lodgings.” She died yes- “Who were the great victors of the eighteenth lay att century? Voltaire, who lived on coffvo, and nothing harder than to pi you, dear.” may have got into, you must get out of it the CHAPTER V. murderer!” He recommended something or at larry! speak.” ad too weak & stomach to bear much food; ing trouble. “Dear Bash, Task for nothing Detter. ‘There | best. way Sou can. suppose money will do other and went away. ‘it is w lie,” he repeated, but feebly. , | Washington, who was spare and abstemiouss When she took off her worn gloves the lt-| could be nothing better. But ——” it.” THE case. One evening when she felt a little stronger “By said Lord Perivale, “I believe it | and at the revolution, the of Paris, who brarian sew upon her forefinger the usual sign “You have not yet told your people about “I must marry her; I will marry her! but The case, which came on for trial afew | th8n usual she told her sister about her mar- | is true. starvelings, Stan. y explains bis of needlework. which ® woman can no more| me. Why not tell them aud have dens? ‘They | there mae weakening in his face as his father's disguise than a mulatto can hide the black streaks below his finger nails, She took a place at one of the tables and began to turn over the leaves of an illustrated paper, but languidly, as if she took no interest in what she read. The librarian, watching her from his corner, ob- served that she presently put down the paper and began to walk about, reading the titles of the books on the shelves, as if she was in search of something. Beimg a conscientious librarian as well as observant and sympathetic, he left his place in the corner and asked her if there were any work which she wished toread. She shook her head. There was nothing, she said. The li- brarian observed thatshe had an extremely Sweet voice. He also observed that she went looking at the titles as if she really did want something. The librarian was experienced as well as con- Sscientious, observant and sympathetic. He dis- covered that there was something behind this restless curiosity. can but refuse to call upon me, 1 suppose.” “You don’t understand, dear child, they are ambitious. They want to get into society, you see, and they expect me to help them. Well, we are rich enough, I suppose, and we've got a big house in Palace Gardens, but my grand- father kepta shop. We are only in trade as it is, although we have our offices and our clerks instead of our counter and our shopmen. See now, Kuth, my father will give me a partner- ship when I am five-and-twenty. That is in six months; then I shall be independent.. Let us get sone somehow, till then. I cannot have my darling ordered about by some scoundrel shop walker, or working her fingers to the bone.” The girl shook her head. “Naomi would not hear of such a thing,” she said, “unless it was properly understood and was acknowledged. No, Harry; I must be independent of you until—” f I can afford to maiutain you, dear, why look became more obstinate. “Well, sir,” said the older, “Iam not going at my time to give in to anybody. My money's my own, I suppose. to do what I like with, Now, sir, here is my offer—partnership, a great future, an estate, a peerage, the foundation of a family—that ‘is what I offer you on certain conditions. If you refuse you can go straight out of the office end never come back again. You shall have no money—not a brass cent. ‘There's your choice: take it. I'll give you an hour tomake up your mind—no, I won't. I'll give you half an hour—no, I won't give you even a quarter of an hour. Damn it all. sir, I'll gr you five minutes—tive minutes to choose. Now!” He took out his watch, one of those great gold things which you can buy for £120 or thereapouts, and heid it in his hand. Harry stood before him, the obstinacy gone clean out of his face, pale and trembling. “Well, sir.” His father put back his watch. “I accept the conditions,” said the son, weeks later, was very briefly and imperfectly reported in the papers, The facts, as they ap- peared in the reports, were neither sensational nor interesting. A certain Ruth Heron, aged twenty-one, unmarried, was charged with atab- bing and wounding, with intent to murder, one Henry Stoke. The prisoner was represented by counsel, but there was practically no de- fense, and the jury found their verdict without leaving the box. " In passing the sentence the judge told the prisoner that only a providential interposition bad prevented her from being charged with actual murder; he should sen- tence her to the term of seven years’ penal servitnde. The prisoner, who appeared per- fectly unmoved, then left the dock. iu the city there were some persons who showed each cther the paper and whispered, “John Stoke’s eldest son. Devilish unpleasant thing.” A week later the matter was clean forgotten, save by the younger men, who still remembered the romantic episode in the life of Harry Stoke, and still told the tale how he riage. “Harry wouldn't marry me openly and take me to his own people,” she said, “because he was dependent on his father, but he wonldn’t give me up, and one day he told me that he had everything ready and would marry me se- cretly in a registrar's office. ButI was to tell nobody, not even you, dear; and 1 promised. He took me in a cab, I don’t know where. One of his friends, Mr. Middlemist, who was a clerk in his father's office, came with us. We got out of the at the office and went within. So that his father should not find out, Harry signed a false name, He took his mother's name and signed himself ‘Henry Hendrick- -—" ‘And you remember the place, dear?” “No, I do not know where it was, because I never thought of looking. Afterward he told me that it was a sham registry, but I knownow that it was not, because peopie who have sham offices do not put up brass plates and print the name of the office in the pillars of the door. “It is true,” said the librarian. “His wife's | success when he says that all he wants isa crust sister sends me to inform him of the news. All | of bread, a mouthfal of wheat when he can get the papers and proofs are in a lawyer's hands, | it and 3 cup of There is no doubt possible.” “Then whatam I?” asked Lady Beatrice, | India into a British dep« looking around helplessly. The librarian was silent. “And what are my children?” “Madame,” said Lord Perivale, is true youare almost as ill-used a the other, own wife—your own wife. that you sent to a convict pri The reason wh; from her husban: erally known why the Honorable Harr: left his father’s brother knows, howe this story woman as | *Pitits on it. She says that she owes in a great You, sir, it was your | degree her good s.rits and capacity to get your own wife—| through any smount of work, of worry and of iy Lady Beatrice separated | What with serious occ dis not known. Nor is it gen- | hibitions, theaters, b: firm and went abroad. a, The Scotch were « pro- verbially hungry people when they turned deney. AN AUSTEMIOUS LITE ARY WOMAN, “I know a literary woman who leads a singu- larly laborious ‘ife, and thrives in health and strain on the nervous system by cutting dinne pations, running to ox- is and what not, she y Stoke | is hardly ever in bed before 2:30 in the His | morning, and more often 3; r, that he is forbidden | up at 9. and keeps fresh, live yet she gets and active, on any pretext whatever toreturn to his native | though weighted with embonpoint, This country. And what will be done when he] is her dictary: A bowlof warm, unsngared dies—and the question of the succession to the | milk, flavored with coffve, is taken without any- title will arise—is brother, the Honorable Joe, for his part is de- The second | thing else at9 in the morning. Lunch is ab 12:30, of fish, one meat dish, cocked vegetables, Sa Besides, we had to wait while another couplo termined that itshall proceed in the logiti- and cheese. ‘Salad is taken pretty often and “T'think looking f ik,” ba “No: ii PY cohitn was knifed in a row by agirl and taken uj married. I his wife, dear, as much as | mate line—that is to say—to himself, And as | the meal is followed by #« small cups of aie on on eae eee Bs as, jrbasrg ete eahaed drat papi CHAPTER 1Vv. for dead. ae ¢ Pets for Naomi she is married to the librarian, At| black coffe “4 *, currants, or “Have you got,” she asked, coloring deeply, | sible? I can wait for You. And I don't sup- & The case was taken after luncheon. When| When Naomi told this to the librarian he sixty, you see, one begins to feel the want of a rason & plateful of one “any book that tells about——,” she hesitated. se that I shall drag you down with me, shall SUNDAY AFTERNOON, the prisoner was placed in the dock, she lifted | said that now they knew the particulars noth- | wife. Watrer Besant. | or the of fruit is taken at 6 0 th- bout,” be repeated. ee - Sunday afternoon is the time whon all the | 2¢ Veil and looked round the court with seem- ing would be easier than to find out where the out any cther sortof food. Otherwise there ‘About women”—here she looked about to} She said this with a laugh, but, like many ‘é ing curiosity. She was pule but not trembling h make sure that nobody else could hear, and her light words, they were prophetic. She was, *prentice youth of London, male and femele, marriage took place, because a register was ——_——- see. is an unbroken fast from jun: lor 2in the z nals or confused, nor did she appear in the least] kept and could be consulted. And he took cer- . rT ‘ind m E morning, when there is a sligut re fection made Soice dropped to ® whisper about women in | although she knew it uot, to drag him lower | Te Walking out together. if it is summer they | afraid, Boing called upon'te pload, she made | tain steps unknown to the two sinters, Ni egent teeta ee ler capt een cee prison, how they are treated and how they | lower “io, her hand was to’be upon bis | 27° the park, proudly arm in arm. If iti¢|no audible reply, but the official beside her| After this they talked no more abont the ve head pushing him down, down, down. the winter they are on their way “out to tea.” Jeaned over her and informed the court that The proper way to get acinder out of the | Tl or bard-baked tread, an egg and a litile — ast. As the bodily frame grew weaker hi A $ cheese. “We have a book called ‘Five Years of Penal | Let us go home,” she said. “Alas, Naomi | iis afternoon should have been numbered | the prisoner pleaded not guilty. Matai becarse snes castle ring. the day | °¥® is to draw the upper lid down over the | “"Xiy friend tells me that she most enjoys liv- Servitude,’” he replied, “but that is about is going through tho things. They alt belong with those of the sweet spring season, because} ‘The Principal witness was Henry Stoke. | she seemed to forget the past; she Serwtcs f lower, utilizing the lashes of the lower asa ing when elightly hungry; then her mental tale convicts, not women.” to the creditors—even the old books on the | "a eutly, the ond of A fale who glia | Considering ali the facts of the caso, one might | her hollow eyes looking far away, while hey “May I see that He found and gave her the volume. shelves—even the swing in the garden—ali ox- cept our ownclothes, even the seat under the forbade the thought of spring. On the north have expected him to be in a highly nervous and agitated condition of mind’ nurse—the physician's daughter—played to her. broom, that it may sweep the surface of the | consciousness is most keen and her wits are former and thus get rid of the intruder. Or, | Ost wakeful. Not being thin. she never feels, : 4 ‘and body. | On the wing of the music she was borne away ently drawing the lid away from the globe, | }Owe¥er long she may go without breaking her When the library closed she brought hi albersy teen, side of Pall Mall a girl walked up and down the | Yet he marched into the box upright and con- | to the land of holy thought. When she talked | S°°U1Y spacters y fast, the pangs of hunger. She walks three or fall ten Seek and’ ween pokey But her Jane ‘a of the old ne topeties es pavement, fident, his cheek a little flushed, without the passa clean camel's hair brush—or fold of a were red. She had been crying. During the week the librarian found himself thinking a good deal about this woman. She looke.: refined and delicate. perhaps above the Position she now held, which seemed to be jorly paid, judging from her dress. By her Decesce and her manner she showed herself what is called ladylike, or what ladies prefer to call rather a superior person. He could not will become of us? What shail we do?” “You are not without friends,” said the Young man; “you have me.” The wind freshened and the rain beat upon their faces. “Iam fall of terrors,” said the ae “It seemsas if something dreadful would happen to me.” “You have me to protect you, Ruth.” If any one had stopped to look at her instead of burrying along as if lashed with a whip by this abominable wind be would have remarked first—generally, that here was an extremely pretty girl, and secondly, that here was a girl in trouble. Indeed, if anxiety were ever de- picted upon any face it was upon this git face, an anxiety which showed itself in trembling of the lips, in quick, short sigh least apparent nervousness, The reasons of this was, suppose, a little note which lay in his pocket. It contained these wor: “My sister bids me tell you that she will give no account at allof what took place. She will have no questions asked about her relations with you. What you say in your evidence shall go unquestioned. Naomt.”” it was of the fature—now so near—when her child should be restored to her. The ow as she truly told her sister, had left upon her soul no touch of shame—not the leasttouch. That it had killed her was nothing, because life had nothing lett for her. Only in the night sho would awake and stretch out her hands, feel- ing for the walls of her cell, and moan and weep in thinking of the child born in the soft silk handkerchief—two or three times be- tween them. This procedure will, in nearly all cases, suffice; when it does not, the services of a physician are necessary. It is a remarkable fact that a very minute body will give rise to intense pain, and even after it has been ex- tracted the sensation remains for an hour or four miles daily. If she must go toa dinner party she does not lunch. 1t ix torture to her ectual work after a re- if the brain has to i DECAY OF THE DRADTA, “The theater is not enjoyable ‘ust as one is more. After the intruder is out gently bathe | rising from the table. Query May not the remember ‘vhether she wore a wedding ring. He hoped that she would come again. On Saturday evening she did come again. Nf He went into the box, therefore, fortitied b: ison and dead in the prison. Then Naomi | the lids every fifteen minutes in iced water till | decay of the drama be traced to the he avy 7 Her lover's words were brave, but somehow | 82°, ¥alked,in eager glances along the street as | the knowledge that he could say anything he oma weep with her ah gine her, until the | the feeling sul 8. o'clock meals of box hire “The polisson- they lacked that subtle quality which ineures | SeeatT tee Ge he come? | pleased. Let us believe that he did really con- | dving girl, in her turn, soothed wed’ conolen niere of the bullet,’ said the director of the lence. . as 6 " = ceive himself to have been deliberately stabbed | the girl who had to live. dance department of the opera house to me the The librarian greeted her with the smile re-| "Yes, Harry, [have you, and you have your | ‘2s and the lessening light like © messunger | by the girl; he so well deserved ther punish- other any, ‘is due to its great patrons bein r fact from its hidden lord, that mi served for habitual readers. “Let me find you | owm ie aa’ well, and they are not likely to | Proclaimed the ym. it 5 ment that he had had no doubt in his mind as rich petits creves and hoary financists an cothest Genk.” ha etd Guana Se dete ee county book. | 2@didcome. He hurried into Pall Mall trom | to her having done it on purpose. He deposed Other rich old men. They come gorged with bos ne = simply that the girl had called upon him; that | tho sweet service on the Sunday morning, and oe s d_ walked rapidly alon; i ° “Please let me have the same”—as if the | seller. Let me go home.” St. James street, an pidly along has accompanied him to England. On April 5 | palate-tickling food to the opera and want librarian should remember every book tak looking down: a young man. there had been an altercation; that the pris-| of the quiet sho} , With its shelves of boo! il i is thing that is at once a polis: i a b are et fiat ae mare oleae Srey {*k | oner seized a amall papor Knife with a steel | round waich the cunons of the cathedral mould | Of ist Year. while he was seated beside Emin | something that is fulness is, thrown a an, e e girl a0 up by every reader. But he did remember her : : a, tour de force. Gracefuiness is. thrown book and gave it to her. vie couneel for. tha dete rea suothing more. | slowly walk, reading the titles; and of the dean, | ® dinuer, this lad whispered something in his | $0u", Qe force. | Gracefulness is, throwa She finished the book that evening. But sis Gav cic cen, noble and 60 brave, jhad becomo suddenly, | The counsel for the dofense said hewas in-| uae caNurs ete oe bands with her |ear. “Up to that moment,” said Stanley, “I ] ¢xhibition did not ‘draw. the surfeit long after she closed the volume she sat with} The chief—the sole arte the heed otc one ot ie father's hand, the merest | structed to ask him one question: Could not | father and patted her cheek—all the old life— | had been treating Emin Pasha es a host would | people, but artists, artisans and Bohemiann, it im her hand thinking. She was in a corner PS eager ne ‘| cur and coward of @ man; he had promised | the wound have been inflicted by accident? solong ago, so long ago. Naomi fell asleep. | treat his guest, but from the moment the lad | What the others best understood was la danso (here there were no other readers. But the | house—sat in his private office. No study or | thing which wanted to carry it through, | Witness sia that he could not say. When she awoke again it was in the morning, ipl aged ag a 4, not | du ventre, imported from Cairo. Look at tha librarian could see her. And from time to | smoking room of any counting house was moro | the falsest, the coldest, the cruclest of hearts. | it jury, without leaving the box, found the | and Ruth lay dead. fered agreel rpg regen ar salon pictures which are purchased for garcon- Hume the tears rose to her eyes and ran down | comfortably furnished than thie private offices, | Feat of poverty and ‘dread of his father’ privoner guilty u* stabbing. ee only over my own expedition, but over Emin | sslon pictares which madltien, but enage atively Sat Geitied. “Wa wenlanad chet can ten comfortably is private office, anger were the ruling forces which trans- During the trial there was another sitting tn ‘CHAPTER VIL Pasha and his entire forces, because it was resin purrs dived --04 patrennae pnd this grief, what miserable story lay behind,” | 4 Pile of letters unanswered lay upon the great | formed a lover, manly, rue sad tender, into! the body of the court beside the solicitor tor Se ee Hag egg AL Mme pintancate ia tenth Goce” Me boeoien: She was the last to leave the library. ‘The | table beside the blotting pad; a shallow basket | cur.. The thing makes one iremble, ’ Guder the prisoner. Another girl, evidently « friend LOND PERIVALE. Sepslltiac of tattle: Santer cies oe lee ok ee ee al ning to the ther readers had all goue half an hour before | Contained the letters which he had written of | what influences, brother of mine, should we | of the prisoner, for, shee aus ie deep distress Stoke had finished breakf SS eae fate of } above, and struck in with,*You are guite right. ae Nakane eng: but she sat there motion- | signed; there were bundies of papers tied up | t¥9 Put off thearmor of the knight and re-|ondeat with her handkerchict soem eyes | _ MF. Harry Stoke had finis tered ore pais = @ iste of | Fortune ise bad condition of the bonne wiea less, thinking, crying silently, and the ibrarian Jorsed. Oneither si th 1 | Yeal the craven tail of the mongrel cur? nearly all the time, “But the prisoner showed | W88 Waiting his wife in order to goto church | Lupton Bey, because rich people eat and drink too well, and made pretense not to see her. ene eeeraee _ us sithen: MGs of, the Seeyinde | ¥44 iW tga WhO. “Was oi to. 0de0 no sign of any emotion, When the man whom | With her.as a respectable and God-fearing gen- * ist their fancies endl calle nad hommavarents ay When the elock struck 10 he locked the room | "*# ® long, low chair: on a small table in tho | mean and villainous a things at*his father's | 20,288 of any emotio into the box she looked | tleman should on Sunday morning. His wife— How the Boy Was Reclaimed. putea and went out a few minutes after her. His | W240w stood the luncheon tray. The chief bidding, had so much of his father’s courage upcuriously; after that she remained perfectly | for he had married with his father's sanction | From the Louisville Co:mercisl. ot Ieeve eaehs | iecinanhes Us Mine ansatbins mind was quite full of her distress as he walked had taken his chop and pint of claret and was | jn him that he was ready to tell the girl in so still; her bead was bent, her hands were | #74 approval—was none other than Lady Beat- A well-known merchant of this city has ason with a Jew, aced eighty, who isan ¢ at singien away along the streets, now growing cool in | POM thed ut before bea eee cuairs, his tect | many words, face to face with her alone, what | “tisoh her eyes were raised; she received her | Tice,daughter of the Earland Countess of Thor-| who is a very wild young man. He seldom Mosaist. He himself ate the vache curagee until the Juiy twilight, bapa See Fe Ge eae eran an beae Pereical | hs neat sentence, and she walked out of the dock after-| disa. He was himself the Honorable Harry, comes home before midnight and frequeutiy | he was five-and-twenty, and thks it was the Freseatly he aaw before him, going the same | ©t#¢. In the rooms without he knew that his | “Come,” he said, “I was going to write to ward with the samo apparent callousness, It | eldest son of Lord Perivale; the newest crea” h as the result of his convivi- | making of him. The ‘reason he gave why his way, his reader. He overtook her and ventured | managers, heads of departments and clerks | you, but there would have beer’ a cow aiter- | was the other girl in the body of the court who, | tion. No one could grudge the elevation of »| Wears a hoavy jag 4 brethren bear so well all climates ‘is that they way, bie i were all diligently at work for him. It makes | ward. Better have it out in wenda” then the Judge concluded, shrieked aloud and | man who had achieved single-handed what all | ality. His companions make his room asortof | brethren b sreding eet engpandiod ymin “We are going the same way?” he asked. a man comfortable fy ee that people | “Harry—what is it? What has happened? | fell fainting on the floor. the men in the city are perpetually trying to do sobering up station and two or three of them ne to the prescriptions A their religion. “I am going to——.” She mentioned a street | **¢ St Work for him. Most of us when we are | Why do you look so strange?” Mr, Harry Stoke walked quickly away, This | with the aid of partners, ancestral connections, | «roll in” nearly every night, The old gentic- | in," the prescriptions o steeped in salt not far off. : a natok have got the feeling of | Come upstairs.” Ho led the way. His | go syeeny of that romantic episode into which | inherited capital and the brains of paid ser-| man was oue of the boysin his young dace and, | and water until no redness stains the water. “It is the same way,” he replied. “May 1 | U2PTOfitable service. Not so Mr. John Stoke | chambers were on the first floor. He raked up | he had crammed all the passion of which his | Vants; he had amassed an enormous fortune: all while he is now a very pious and proper head | This unfits it for the spit or the grill, walk with you? Iam the librarian, you know.” | of Lhreadneedle street, city. He knew that | the low ashes of bis fine and threw on some | heart was capable, and all the treachery and | €0vernments love to honor the city and the of a cultured bousshala he cannot entirely for- | and does not make it toothsome in @ fhe henittod o litle, Bus an oficial euch an | ans? pretty tuner Ae bo rein hae | al villainy of wh get, his carly indiscretion or steel his heart | gtew—the only way in which it cax be done, s librarian is not a perfect stranj er. Besi 5 i " 7 n = against the boy who is going man’s gai I boiled. Meat thus prepared has no he was old and looked harmless oad Lowes; | between his lips that tune melodiously rang'in She waited for him to take her in his armas | Fleet street to his chambers, in the ‘Temple, | John Stoke of Threadneedle strect was ele- Suil bo felt it facumbest on hiss to check the abver ‘uA deus mot tenege ike dom co cabel i and manner were friendly. “If you please,” | bis ears. and kiss her, ag was his wont. He offered no | accompanied by a friend, briefless but withous | Vated to the peerage. And the fact that he youth's career and so he devised a plan to | giutionously. Whenever. pious Jews are mus she said presently. = Mr. John Stoke was now # man of fifty-five | caress at all. She sat down, however, and | envy, had made so much money was a sufficient rea- | frighten him. He got u stick of phosphorous | merous cake shops flourish, the cakes generally: They walked together in silence, side by side, | Of 80. The kindof face and the expression | warmed her hands and foot. She was very |” «{ was thinking, Jack,” he said, but stopped. | 80n for making his children and his children’s on § wrote on the opposite the boy's bed: replacing paces food, Hophni and Phineas Presently the librarian began’ to ‘ask a few | 2pon it are not uncommon in the city—they | cold. hen she started up again. “So was I,” said Jack. children, so long as the stock should last, a “Prepare to meet thy God.” The letters objected to the meat steeped in salt and water leading questions and learned that his new | belong to certain type of city men—and those | ““[ don't understand you today, Harry, Why | «{ was thinking—"” he began again, caste apart, and hereditary legislators, friend was a workwoman at a dress maker's in | ¥20 have it are — successful. It is a| can't you look me in the face? What have you were, of course, visible only in the dark and til it blanched, when they objected to “That it is a beastly shame to lock up such a] | The honorable gentleman looked perfectly | fhe old man was careful to Lave the room walt | Wat it was blan eo the neighborhood. It is not a fashionable | Masterful face. If any of Mr, John Stoke's | done?” quarter and the pay given to the most superior | rvante fail in their duty they know better «When I came back to town I found out that oe, be i hat boiled or sodden. Dying of appo- Pratiy gislfor seven yeaa” Wn eat ERS pertacrakiy aaskien wimsell | lighted shen his son came home the noxt night | Hlexy doce Bot muck huatter, since every one “ye 5 it r “ tty wi as ui! is - g. t a8 m: rson is but meager—still it was enough, and | than to ask for mercy from such a face. Nel-| it wouldn't do. I couldn't exactly explain to micane ueetieky Why ana she wit gil occupy a good Eouse ina good square; his ae caned in with the gas turned up full, coreg Bia gore it py matter to = work was regular. son himself did not ‘reckon more confidently | you why it wouldn't do. Besides. to tell the | cross-examination? Why wouldn’t she allow | marriage opened a great many good houses to and soon the: “I do not belong to the place,” she said. “I } than Mr, John Stoke on every man doing his truth, I hoped it would do. Imight have been - y were sound asleep. Then the | be for years in the state that ends in apoplexy, : h me to ask what the row was about? Did you] tim; he hada brace of fine, strong children, | Sid man went in and put out the light. He to wit, with a starved brain.” 4 come from the country. I have no friends, | duty. ' x made s partner without conditions, or—or | see her face, Jack? It wasn't murder in that | one of whom, the heir to the peerage, a little | then made a noise sufficient to wake the boy and am fortunate in getting any work at all. He lay back in his chair and watched the | anythingmay happen. The truth ia, of course, | #002 my friend, it was pride, She never meant | boy of two, had been brought down ‘to play | Out of his drunken sleep, and ss he sat up ig Enero You must come a great deal to the library,” pce bes — ee to ey Pleasant | as I mavecee 10% Corsa at Pe taised his eyes | to stab him. Oh, he’s a villain! He's o vil-| With him, ana a note rolling on = heard bed his eyes caught the handwriting on the CIV i “J i ve | tune—the parable of Dives quit forgotten. | and faced her boldly, at they want me to] jain! hild! I hope they will be kind rug. The choi store 2} wall. With » bound out of a the chmpaniouship ef bosks if Tos’ sats are | Presently the door opened anda "young an | oat, one eee : hee: But she qo Out again, and ‘hee | poured into his lep, which was like a sack for alight, he begat anvexaunatien ot | OR€ Of Them Will Make a Fine Lights them. Sut you must not always read sad | stood in the doorway—a tall and handsome books——” young man—you bi ot tocome out again, and her A stril , 7 “Good ) Why, we are marri e and was ready to receive more choice | (ring ‘light, he began an examinatio house When It Brightens Up a Little. already seen him in the | you forgotten that?™ ~ ed. Have | jito is ruined. capacity, the wall, but it was blank in the light. The gas hnameranavaccas oN Saved Stanley’s Life. One evening toward the end of April, when | From the New York Press, there was soft breath of early sect Ruth | Stanley says he owes his life and the success began to talk of the old days. and she spoko of | of his expedition to the young Zanzibar lad who CHAPTER UL ich mankind at large is cnpabl successful children of the city; therefore there “Sit ae he said; “you must be cold.” ‘The counsel for the defense walked across | Wa% but one murmur of approval when Mr. —————-+e+ IVE VOLCANOES, —< —the more and choicer the better. burned ‘all bt, and the next morning the = “Ihave no heart," she said, “for brag hactiap ose ea Paintin il CHAPTER VI. Heaven certainly seems ‘Rood indoed 10" the young man ay wey quiet endsolemn. Tho | MSS" eceut down to am a bat sad books. This is my street “Come in, Harry, come in,” said the chief,| “Are we not?” r ereatures. old gentleman erased the warning fromthe | News brought down by officers and passene night.” Pleasantly; ‘shut the door and come in.” “Married—ah! well, of course, I don’t pretend OUT AGAIN, A footman brought him a card. wall, and is pleased to know where his boy is at | gers on the steamer Arago confirms the ree A week later she came again—always on a “You said you should want to speak to me | to believe that you didn’t see through the trick. Saturday evening. ‘The that she | Sbout balf-past two.” “Hush!” Naomi held up her finger, “Tthink| agmy” °What doce ‘he mean tor eonney ‘he | night, ‘The father said that he learned of the | ports as to Mount Bogosioy being in a state of evening. reason was she " Where were you married, pray?” pa name. What does he mean by coming on } trick from a it preacher of the city, activity. About two months ago there was « i A “Yes, I did. Well, my boy,I thought we ‘At a registry.” she is in a sleep. Sunday morning?” ho was frightened out of bis naughtiness in | “© e! ‘ jeveiene tinge bp ba — might have a few words, perhaps two or three,| “Where was That registry?” “‘At last you have her again,” said the libra-| “Gentleman says he has to. speak to you on bend Violent earthquake on all the islands in the “I have found you a book about female con- | J28t to understand each other. Sitdown. Take| “I don’tknow. You took me there,” ria most important private business.” They let her go because she| “Oh!” He thought it must be some away his | was ill and the time was so close at hand when | from the city or from his father, “show gmehe end Oso enll leva, tr hn, nan | eae ey a seed atte | Rae eo ances Mr ierlor tar tet ctv way ne not face her as inte} lie, +, esterday. She was a ex- 6 4 sham office,” he went on, “‘and took a. false cited, poor child, bat in the night she grow plsiniy,, aa entered, bowed and | her love of far away from her home. 1796, when the island upon which it is situated Aleutian group, and soon after Bogoslov, which Victs,” the librarian told her. “It is twenty |* cigar? No? Well, you are five-and-twenty ropes island, t pers a8 today, are you not?” Seca hmnonone Slngsere not changed | WAT Set purteaey.”” ‘The young manlocked | wma” Cena aa “Oh, give it me—thank you!” anxious, yet expectant of some ple: She snatched it from him and sought her cor- —— One can only be five-and-twent; ng the book all the crening. nner band, read. | $nce sister, Mise Ruth Heron.” He forced himself to ‘They waiked home together again. “Yes,” his father continued, looking crit- | face her. “You are in great trouble,” said the librarian, | ically at the ashee of his cigar. '“Yes, yes, five-| “I don't know—I don’t know,” she said, not in “If it will be any help to you tell me what it is. | *ud-twenty. I was a partner before that age— | fact knowing what she sald. Then she stopped 4 good many people tell me their troubles, | before we sank the shop and became an office.” | and neither spoke, Sometimes it helps only to talk abont things. “There was the shop, though, to begin with,’ Have you no friends?” said the son. 2, “I took you to an office. But, my child, it} “Yes—at last. was & sham registry.” He turned away ‘hi y dressed had been prom-| name. You are no more married than your | composed and told me more than I knew. He | waited to was ae husband—her husband—think of that! serted her; she wanted to kill herself, I will a you mean all you say—all?” she | tell you all presently. He knew that, too, Qh, sat villain! villain! ee a ~ state of Prof. Elliot of the Smi Institution bas J very ‘illain! villain!” echoed rarian, “What about trial?” The Honora! necessary | visited the island which the volcano is “No. I have lost all my old friends, andI| “Undoubtedly, and » shop. too. | “All—I mean it all. it, Ruth, nobody y ‘33 the lib: - it YJ He ble peeaggeo visit ot peg ma cannot make ones, ! could We mustn't f yt the shi jot likely that it | wants you to come to an: I tell you} “You shall see her directly. But abe fright-| Harry turned very red and then pale, “Who finally relinquish situated, you——" — es - will be forgotten. etalk about it when frankly that I will buy back all the lotters,"” ened me this morning. She does not know me. | are w saddle, How she has walked for The flare of fire thousands “You may tell me, if you will trust me,” — £, home from my dinner parties; when] She bent forward and whispered. She thinks she has got her baby in her lap—it 7 ve had a f ht among my birds,| He sprang to his feet with an oath and was born in the prison and died in prison. But | really does not moped ae You gave “ t Secha Zon will not give me any more itt Pagne up to eyes every night, across the room. When he came back | she is a marri remember. She thinks | evidence os of allege “Surely—surely——” “Well, then—the reason why I want to read over shop in the train going | to her his face was dogged 3 when they have been ons cruise in my | had been with his father. Unhappily the girl | Tell me what I should do. sbout—about you kuow—ob! I must speak to | Yacht, with Sopher egy dey b . in, would not meet him with equal stal x closed. I think she is sleeping.” “My wife? It'salie—alic, Tsay.” He said off their legs tion. This momntain con bo even at sea for some one— reaso: = because yes, the better the; “What does that matter tome?” heasked hi It Sunday morning in midwinter. Out-} more, the terrok in his eyes greatly de- their imperial mis-| nearly 100 miles, and great good to sister is in oe Psntunpeites catemniet remember it; the more cuser aad soley with brutality “Do as you like’ side tho church bells rang, Len penterre pert “ls ree enta te fiseartons coiee “YX eee ee et Aiello eeepc poor sister! she is in prison.” Our dear ea will heeded, tis true, calmly, “Your o_ —_—- mah 4 HAPTER and in an} “Prove it, if you can,” which Le cumar ous Oumnak pass, S = Place at all.” had put/ “Ican. Itcanbe proved easily, You ss odmbation, ———— Ie RIVER suffered lodgings, in a certain pen unlior toe the ArchGnchem Dyspepsia and Baldness, . old wal curling | name of Under that name you | Valerie and her husband will the first Brom the hea rigeed langle agate Beemer liens: dy long | were married at the of that district ona, noe eniiina Sci Be stands, runs, winding slowly through the ‘and. pale | to Ruth Heron. Y continued in lodg- at Vom, you over chesrve,” ash De. Sune; meadows, the river on whose banks the ancient some Christain saint ‘and your wife, who livea with the emperor and patched “that a dyspeptic person who has suffered with s bel meditation; her | vite there. One of = A the disease for a year or more is, nine times northern town is built. It is broad enough for 3 5 " oe A i We en yy ~ “edn pepe srecracs yresrsscapare piece, woke and | office, was in your confidence and was present peroniel Seieeciean cumesen effect upon the hair. It causes it to become but not many, ate: coe rs a bod mr eros ag an delightful weak and dry. The least will thom souk thuir fortunes chewhere when thoy mind| “Not atall, He lost bis in your office ot considerable extent. "WY out = handful ‘There. is no 1 come to the rowing age. Jer at en ore ‘and bad to go abroad. He ‘Row come beck ‘with marked simplicity q ee eee See aan Sere ! below the town « broad waik has been con- forgot ' again and has made an affidavit of the facts. : ‘# man's stomach order.’ >, ‘ >