Evening Star Newspaper, December 19, 1891, Page 7

N THE 2TH OF DECEMBER, 1890, I was standing in little country railroad station ina state of perplexity. Near me, sit- ting in a chair by the stove, was a young lady, Also in @ state of perplexity. Facing us both stood the station master, who had been in » state of perplexity. but was getting out of it. “Just you wait here ten minutes,” he said, “and Pil see what I can do for you,” and put- ting on « fur cap and an ulster he went out of doors ‘The state of the case was this: Miss Weldon, the lady by the stove, was on her way to joins ‘hristmas party at the house of her uncle, Mr. Dolliver, some seven miles from the station, and I, invited to the same house, had been delighted tomest her on the train. We were good friends and sd studied art together in When we left the city in a morning alittle snow was beginning to fall, and ed northward we found the md heavier, and we had le village of Boynton at 3 noon, an hour behind time. the Dolliver house to go by s stage had left more th: away before his wry time of starting, for fear the road would be blocked up before he could get to his home, a good twelve miles away, and assuring himself that there would be engers for him on suca a d as reasonable enongh that w perplexed, for we could not tee, nor at first station master see, how we were to send that day. If we wonld he told us, the stage driver He said he would ristmas packages, if .. But we could not wait un- It would be better to return to ext down train, if, happily, 0: We could not ‘hope send for us, for if the wthe © pass without stopping they would be we had not come by the train. ter was a good man and did s out of our trouble. He had other train coming down that a branch road with one track—and t would be a great pity if the Dol- livers should be deprived of the company of two of their Christmas guests; a lot of them had jp the day before. Nobody in the vil- ess of hiring out vehicl-s or rs, but an idea had struck er and he had gone out to see lo with it. n hour previous Writ rer FOR THE EVENING STAR, — Oy FRANK ‘®& STOCKTON: Ss in about a quarter of an hour he returned. ‘Well, is no chance of getting back tonight, but the man who keeps the store here, Mr. Peter Chase, bas got « horse and sleigh, and if you choose to hire thet of him and do your own driving I think you can get it if you are will- ing to pay him something extra, for be'll have to send a man over tomorrow with the stage driver to bring it back, and, besides, im rough times like these people always charge some- thing extra.” I put the matter before Miss Weldon. and she did not hesitate to say that rather than take the Tisk of being obliged to remain in the village, where there were no accommodations for would take the risk of letting he Dolliver: nly seven miles.” she said, “and if the horse is good enough I don't see what there is to happen.” I tramped through the snow to Peter Chase’ store and quickly arranged with bim for the hire of bis horse and sleigh. Five dollars said, “for a trip deep h .ke that, but this is » prett; ought to remember that at once a year. I'll hi the sleizh around at the station in ten minutes. In half an hour a little sleigh, drawn by a big brown horse, came up to the back door of the station. would have been here sooner,” said Mr. Chase, “but it was a good while before I could find the bells, I knowed you wouldn't [ant to take Christmas sleigh ride without is. Idid not complain of the delay, although I had been getting dreadfully impatient, station master had had a telegram from up the line stating that a down train with a snow plow Was on its way, and I was very much afraid that Miss Weldon would conclude to wait and back to the city. So without loss of time we bundled in. The Christmas minded Mr. Chase had brought two heavy for robes, our valises were packed in behind, the sleigh being of the box variety, and we were ready. “There is no mistaking the way,” said Mr. » “You go straight ahead until you come to the house.” ‘Which I know perfectly well,” added Miss Weldon, and away we jingled. 7 1 “tailing, but we did not that we had started off, [ was glad that Mr. Chase had waited to find the bella. Their merry jingle suited my spirits jolly sleigh ride with Clara Weldon ¢ ovjoymest than I had counted on for mas. A young man anda young woman. both of byvely dispositions, good friends, fellow work- ‘more likely to © Like this than if pair of lovers or even if one of them were a lover. True love implies certain seriousness and is not infrequently conducive to jemyeness The snow was deep on the road and some- times drifted but the sleigh went through it bh. The horse, however, probably ood traveler on the best of road: made but slow progress But although he was in animal of with his great hoofe.be the mein point With Teasou to believe that we should safely reach our journey’s end it did not trouble me that we were making that journey slowly and my companion appeared to be of my way of think ing The beauty of the snow-decorated foreets fields d hille was enough to make Dur artist hearts satistied even should the horse deciiue to do more tha: It began to grow dark and we had not reacked the bosprta re bound, but there was beautifai wierdness in the snow scenes softened by the dusky light, and our bearts ang the bells were still merry. But as c grew darker and darker we both began to that we stood in the light and the warmth of the Dolliver I whipped the horse, 0 made a few bounds through the snow, and ‘then re! into his former trot. It wasof no use to tr to hurry bim of hearty cheerfulness ix it, very different from her previous expressions of though’ opsned beféte wo bad time to reach ff, and an elderly woman with « Christmas look about the broad We stopped on the before entering, stamping and shaking ourselves, for we were two res of snow. ‘Our valises are in the back of the sleigh,” I aid, and to my pees my teeth chattered a littie as I spoke. “I think the horse will stand until some one takes him.” We then went in. Suddenly Miss Weldon stopped and looked from right to turning to the good woman, she exclai “This is not Mr. Dolliver XN “Of course rot,” said the othe: think it was? Pendi iss Weldon and I looked at each other in dismay. ““We have made» mistake,” I said. “How much further on is it tothe Dolliver place?” “It isn't farther on at all,” the woman re- ied, “it is not on this road at all.” too bad,” { said. “They told us at was astraight road, and we could “So it is, but three miles below here there is fork that anybody might mistake, especially at night, with the roads unbroken. ‘But come in and get warm, you must be half frozen. I'll havea man throw blanket over the horse,” and with this she showed us into «large room with @ woodfire blazing on the hearth. She pushed two chairs before the fire. “Sit down,” she said, “and gets little warm. If Iam not mistaken this is Miss Clara Weldon. Yee, [thought s0. It’s been a long time since Lbayeseen you. Tam Mrs. Bardsley. I keep house for Maj. Pendallas. Excuse me for a met “Wh@t a grand thing this fire is,” said I,“‘and who is Maj. Penslallast® . “Lnever saw him in my life," said Miss Weldon, following my example and drawing ap close to the fire, “but Ihave often heard of him. He used to be in the army, I think, and now he has a stock farm and has’ all sorts of fine horses and cows. I wonder if he would be willing to send us over to my uncle's? I can't bear to think of starting out again in that sleigh and with that hors I was glad she did not include the driver in her objections and said I hoped that the major would be able to do something for us. But at the time Idid not give much thought to the subject, for my whole soul was occupied in re cling in the genial heat. I bad bad no idea that T was #0 cold. In about five minutes the door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing a heavy pea jacket and an unmistakable air of being the master of the house, entered the room. He was middle-aged, had side whiskers aud bright blue eyes. We both rose and, with out- stretched hand, he greeted Miss Weldo: “Delighted to see you,” he said, ina hearty “Mra. Bardsley tells me fou have lost ¥, but that doesn't maiter, I'll make Tight Then he turned toward me and Miss Weldon introduced me. “Ashmead?” he as he me the band. “eieage = "I replied, “Henry G. Ashmead. spoke he gave me s quick look and seemed about to say something in reference to my name, but he checked hi and urged us to ett down again, “What you must do now is to get warm, get warm,” he said, and he put two great logs on the fire. _With @ few quick questions and without sitting down he made himself acquainted with the situation. For a moment he gazed down upon us and then he said: _ “The first thing to do, now that you are little thawed, is to get off your coats and wraps. “That is hardly worth while,” I replied, “for a8 soon as we aro well warmed we must get on, in one way or other, to the Dolliver house.” “Sir,” said Maj. Pendalias, “‘there is no Doll- iver house for you tonight. ‘Here you are, and here youstay. {tis three miles back to the main road, and then you have two miles more to go, and before you reach the Dolliver house there is « long hollow and at this present moment the snow is probably drifted five feet. If you had tuken the right road you most likely would have been in that snow driftnow. Ihavesleighs nd teams enough and nodonbt I could pull you through, but it is blowing now as well as snow- ing and I am not going to let a young lady go out into a storm like this, especially when she has had already as much ‘as she is able to stand of that sort of thing. Your bags will be brought in and your horse put in the stabl Mrs. Bardsley will take charge of Mi and supper will be ready and without waiting for an answer he left the room. We looked at each other and laughed. “That is just what hoped he would do.” said Mise Weldon; “I have had all the aleighing < I cried, throwing off my overcoat; might have to persuade you.” iy absurd,” she said, “as if the lajor Pendallas were not quite gainutes Miss Weldon had been carried ‘beaming Mrs. Bardsley, while Major conducted me toa bed room on the hon which a a crackling wood vase was@ large one and seemed to be lighted from top to bottom. We three sat down to a big round supper table, and as might have been expected the meal was bountiful, hot and most grateful and cheery to the two storm-beaten travelers, who had eaten nothing since breakfast except an unattractive luncheon on the train. Our host did most of the talking, and we were well content to have him do it. ‘You cannot imagine,” he burst out, as soon as we wore seated, “how glad Iam to have you two people here. I expected to spend this Christmas eve absolutely alone, and I should have fels that, for I never did anything of the kind before, and from # boy I have thought more of Christmas eve than of Christmes day. There is less of a strain in it. On Christmas day you feel as ifyou ought to be awfully jolly, be- Sause if youdon't you won'thave another chance for a year. On Christmas eve one can be jolly without thinking of it. If there are any short- comings they can be up nextday. Last year my niece was with me, and we had plenty ‘of company, but now she's married and cleared out, utterly: Gone to Europe with her hus band, and mtends to stay there. —_ for Miss Weldon after Bat bed is the best ‘And T what she has through this day. am so rejoiced to have you both in the house that I shan't gramble. It doesn't matter in the least that whon the sun set I bad never seen either of you nor youme. I know who you are and you know who I am—at least Miss Weldon knows—and that's enough. “But you don't know me," I said. “Indeed I do,” he exclaimed, slapping one of his spread-out ees and leaning toward me. “I know you in the best kind of a way. Ihave one of your pictures. Now don't go and say Jou are not the artist, He ead. ‘am that man,” I rep! I didn't doubé it,” said the major, leaning back in his obair. “You look like it’ Tama bachelor, sir, aud it takes ® good deal to keep that sort of @ mun content and easy in his mind. Pictures and books help a lot in that way, and I make ita point every year to bay ood picture. I got one of yours last fall, and wm very fond of looking ‘at it Come with me and I'll show it to you.” ‘The major then preceded me tos medium- sized rovm in the front of the house, which be Tt isn't a study,” for I never study, and it isn’t a library, for it hasn't books enough for that, but it isas good room to read in as Tks A fine light, and always cool in sum- is the picture,” and he held up # lamp before one of my large landscapes.” of thought Burnet owned that,” I exclaimed. ‘Yes, he did, but he's been ‘hard up latel; nd had to sell off part of bis collection. snapped up that as soon as I saw it. There are things m that picture, that you seldom see in intings. That's timothy grass in that mea Soa eet spat tes eo would make on the trees plants I should say it was in June that you took it! “<I made my studies in June,” I said. “Good,” he cried, “I knew it There's no nonsense about that meadow, such as you would see in most pictures. No bushes and straggling briers or practical picture. Of course youcouldn*thelp the daisies and no more can I in my own meadows. ” said he, when we were again be- ‘ou can see for yourself how I know you, andIcan tell you that it delights me to have in my house the man who painted that picture. After a while I'll brew a bowl of Regent's punch. But it isn't late enough for that. We'll have # bachelor night of it. By next Christmas I suppose the young lady will puta veto on bachelor nights. Veto,” said I, “what do you mean?” ju will surely be married by next Christ- he replied. Lexclaimed with a laugh, “we have never thought of being married.” The major took his cigar from his mouth, put his hands upon his knees, leaned forward and looked at me. “Do you mean tosay, sir, that you and Miss red to be married?” Weldon are not enga; tatall,” said I; we have known each other a long time, but we are friends and nothing more.” “Well, Pl be hanged !" cried Maj. Pendallas, throwing away his cigar and rising abruptly from his chair. Then, standing with his back to the fire he looked down upon me. “Now Iam disappointed. I surely thought you two were steam, and a fine one. I had made up my mind to it, and now I amsetback. I feel as if | were driving a big Percheron and polo pony. Iam a practical, common-sense man and i don’t mind asking practical,common- sense questions. Ihave done that all my life, and though Ihave made a good many people mad, it has always been better for me in the end. Now would you mind telling me if that young woman is engaged to somebody else, or if youare? Don't get angry. If anybody is angry I ought to be. Twas not in the least offended. There was an impetuous but kindly earnestness about the man which impressed me very agreeably. There are some people whose liberties are leasant rather than otherwise; the major was one of those people. “I am not engaged,” I said with a smile, “and I have no reason to believe that she is. Major Pendallas thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, strolled to the other end of the large room, and then turning came back and sat down. “I believe,” said he, “that the man who lives alone does more thinking to the minute than other people. When she was pouring ont the coffee tonight, and you were handing your cup to her, and both of you were laughing about the sugar, I stopped eating and said to myself ‘that is as perfect a match as I ever saw.’ And in regard to humen beings it is very seldom that I think that. And now you turn around and tell me that you and she Zo single.” T could not help laughing at the serious way in which he discussed the subject. “Tam sorry to disappoint you,” said I, “but Miss Weldon and Tare not ‘marrying people. For myself I cannot afford matrirao: “That's what I once thought,” he said, “and for thirty-five years I have regretved that Iwas foolish enough to think so. Tt was plain my host was a man of nervous temperament. He could not sit still while con- sidering this subject, evidently of deep interest to him He now rose, folded his arms and looked at me steadily for fulla minute. As he gazed at me his eyes seemed to grow brighter and large “It was my intention to make a business Proposition to you, founded on what you and iss Weldon said about this pars of the country and how much you liked it. I consider it one of the happiest thoughts I had ever had. “What was it?” T asked, a good deal amused, but careful not to show it. “I shall be glad to hear it whether I accept it or not.” ‘Allright,” said the major, seating himself with decision, “you shal} have it. I will make the proposition in the common-sense, straight- forward manner in which I intended to make it. For over ten months Ihave been kicking and fuming at being obliged to live here in this lonely house. Touight I said to myself over and over again, ‘What would I give if these two would eat ail their meals with me; would come here and live in this house.’ And then I said, ‘Why shouldn't they? He'sa landscape painter, and they would want to live somewhere in the country, and are not likely to find any place more beautiful than this. Now perhaps that just what they want and what they are looking for, and the best thing you can do is to make them the offer without loss of time.’ While I was thinking of this, my spirits went up to about a hundred in the shade, but when you told me you were not an engaged couple, down they went, I don’t know how far. hat did you intend to offer?” I asked. he said, “everything. I intended to put at your disposal, as soon after you mar- ried as you pleased, the handsomest room in the house, second floor front, with a beautiful flower garden in summer directly under the side window. I would have given you the run of this house, reading room and everything,and made you fecl at home. If the lady is « musi- cian I'would have bought a new piano; if you fond of driving or riding my stable should have been at your service. I have to pay men to exercise the horses and it would bu a favor to me to have you do some of it. Moreover, I have a carriage house on the other side of my garden, which Ido not use, and I would have fitted it up as a studio for you, with a big north light and all conveniences. Then again, if you would have liked to come here and spend your honeymoon, I would have vacated the place for month and let you have it all to yourselves. “For the accommodations should have offered youT should have charged you no more than what your living would cost me; certainly not 4 week each. For the rent of my stu- dioI should have asked you one landscape painting every year.” {was most cheerfully impressed by the pro- ject thus laid before me. med, “you are gener- ° ‘ou make me the same offer if I bring some other lady here as my wife?” “No, sir,” cried the major, striking his knee with his broad hand, ‘no, Twill not. I know all about Miss Weldon and I have formed & great fancy f Twillrun no risk with outside and unknown women. So saying he rose abruptly to his feet, walked to s window, raised the shade and locked out into the night. I remained ing cheerful fire. The enthusiasm of this man had had » powerful effect upon me. I was actually thinking what » delightful thing it would be to marry Miss Weldon, It was not the first time that this thought had come intomy mind, but it had always been Promptly expelied. As I told my host, I was not @ marrying men, at least I considered that my financial circumstances gave me no right to be one. But now the state bf affairs seemed to be entirely changed. So far as pecuniary con- siderations were concerne: the perception of this fact set me in a glo ‘The major now returned to the fire. “‘Hello,” he cried, ‘‘your face looks as if you ‘Were getting converted.” ‘It may be that I am,"I said, “you are s Pore stepped quickly 1 clapped le stepped quickly toward me and cla: his hands upon my shoulder. “Now.” i FL this Dol- all. i — THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C. SATURDAY. “ rising, “Ihave the world io dott. Youbave rhich I did not 5s that I thought were long ago quieted; you have—" iow, my dear boy,” don't say another word. Go to rouare in this mind; go to 't consider this or that or any o' Keep your mind on the one. fact Oi rr to ee Hi ie it i i gS 3 rf ii fe ves what it ive you m; ae etbioae if suit, FU lear out Fil fake the risk of al that” “WWery good,” “ ay aioe itis pest country bed time, fod F keep’ my in on the subject you have fore me, | But what of that were going to brew?” jot a drop, sir; nots drop,” exclaimed the r. “When men want cheering up and nothing to do afterward a glass of punch on a winter night is a very good thing, but ina case like this we want clear heads. Anybody can determine to marry almost anybody if he hen I set out to dri pai orm or in a cold, ebilly night I never touch a drop of spirits no matter how much I may feel that I need warming At such times I want to be —— forted. But when I get safely self a glass of something hot. Making up your mind at this time is much more important than driving any sort of horses in any kind of punch can wait until tomorrow, ings turn out all right I'll brew some- thing out of the common, I assure you.” In my bed room that night I gave no time to deliberation. Before I bade the major good- night had made up my mind to propose to Miss Weldon. CHAPTER IL Iwas down stairs before broakfart the next morning, and I met the major just coming in from a visit to his stables. “Merry Christmas,” he cried, “and isn't this « glorious day—cun bright and sky clear? But the snow is about a foot deep on the level, and nobody knows how deep in the drifts. I have @ Canadian in my employment who walks on snow shoes, and f have sent him across the country to the Doliivers to tell them where you are and let them know that you will be there in the course of the afternoon. I'll send out some mon with a double team of oxen and a soma there ough to break the road, aud after luncheon 'll drive you over myself. In the meantime, how are you going to spend the morning, sir?" I laughed as I gazed into his earnest counte- nanc “Tam going to try to break road into the region of matrimony,” I replied. ‘The major's face shone like the morning sun. “You're sound asa doliar,” he exclaimed. “After breakfast you two shall have the house to yourselves. I'll carry off Mrs, Bardsley aud the rest of them to the Christmas present busi- ness in the big barn. I suppose you can get through in an hour?” “Oh, yes,” I answered. “Probably in less ti ime. The major was now called off and I strolled into the reading room to look again at my icture. The room was full of the morning ight, and as I turned to the wall on which my landscape hung I stood with eyes and mouth wide open. The paper on the wall was one designed by Clara Weldon. I remember when she was working on it in her studio. Thero was a tendril ruoning through it which I had suggested. I clapped my hands and felt like bursting out with a shout of pure enjoyment, but 4 refrained myself. The breakfast bel’ rang, and as I went out I closed the door be- hind’ me. ‘Miss Weldon came down refreshed and lovely, and as we exchanged the Christmas salutations I almost felt guilty in thinking of the conspiracy which we two mon had hatched up against her, but I did not in the least swerve from my purpose. It was about an hour afterward when Miss Weldon and I wera sitting before a blazing fire in the parlor that I declared my love for her, that I asked her to be my wife, and in the ardor which Increased as I spoke, I told her everything. I laid before her the whole glow- ing picture which Maj. Pendallas had painted for me, When I began to speak she looked at me ins quizzical way, asif she were amused at the sudden outcropping of my passion, but after- rd she began to listen with interest, as if it re due to me to give serious consideration to atter which I urged so warmly, odd as it might be that I happened to be urging it just then, But when I told her what the major had been talking about her face flushed with indig- nation. “It is s shame,” she exclaimed, “that that man should discuss me in such a way. What right has he to meddle with my affairs or give advice concernmg me? If I can do itI will leave this house this instant “You cannot do it,” I said, “and I beg yon will restrain your anger until I explain the case. Maj. Pendallas takes a great interest in me on account of my work. You remember what he said at breakfast about my picture. He has taken —— “I don’t care anything about his intorest in you,” she interrupted. “I am thinking about myself, He has no right to take any sort of in- terest in me—to discuss me. It is the most un- warrantable thing, the most” ‘lease do not say anything more against him,” I implored. “I first want you to look at my picture. It is one of the few you have nos seen. don’t want to see anything he owns,” she said sharply. “But I bog of you to come look at this be- cause I painted it You may never have another chance, and I very much want you to see it.” She had a kind heart, and angry as she was she accompanied me to the reading room. As we stood before the picture her eyes wandered away from itand over the wall. Then she turned and looked at me, and I looked at her but said nothing. “Do you suppose,” she asked presently, he knew I designed this paper? “I am positive he does not,” I replied, ‘for if he had knowr. it he would certainly have mentioned it to me, and, besides, itis almost impossible that he should know i “It is wonderful,” she said in ® softer tone. hat do you make of it?” “I make this,” I replied, “the soul of that man is in sympathy with yours and with mine. The things we do touch his tastes and his se ilities. He covers his wall with your paper dhe hangs my picture upon it, He docs not know either of us, but his soal is in sym- pathy with us. 1 think you can hardly sa: that he has no right to take an interestin you.” She looked at me and s “ pretty,” she said, “but ‘x exolaimed. “Clara, Ithink you cannot any longer be angry with our ho: having set him aside will you not consider me—" “And consent to be ® background to your work?" ed. bright sparkle in her eye which “that he There was a a me feel justified in gently closing the oor. When Major Pendallas returned from the bi barn, where, according to his custom he been making Christmas presents to all his peo- ple, he found Clara and me in the parlor. "Ho approsched us in s somewhat hesitating, way, as I looked around at him I could seo ‘pression on his countenance which like a fear that he had come back beforeid bad gotten through with the business of the morn- ing, or, perhaps, before [had begun it. But as we both rose to meet him, I still holding Clara's hand, all doubt vanished from his handsome, honest, weather-browned face. “I know it,” he cried, as he looked from one to the other of us. “I tell ything,” and he stretched out a hand to each of us. ‘is is aglorious Christmas,” he said; “a glorious Christmas.” It was piain he wanted to say a good deal,but could not find words, but Clara allowed’ no embarrassing “I have been very angry with you, majo?,” she said, with the kindest of Eaiistenan ber still slightly flushed face. He looked at her in- » that was because he didn’t understand about the wall paper,” I said. “If he had known about that” ed to rt coat, he gazed, upon’ the four walls of the. room. “Truly,” he oried, “I can't take it in. To think that the two re 1 T hare boon sitiag a room, surround warm, eet soft leaves ani spirals; this gon- eral impression of blossomy sir, and thes think that. you did ito cers oo ge gee A fae i a 8 > By 5 3 FE, z 2001 Maj. Pendallas should come over with us and spend the night, They hada largo of friends at the house and were having « jolly tim “Oh, I'll go,” said the major. “I intended to go anyway, but as to jolly times, the times they are having there are no more to compare with what we are having here than an asb- man’s donkey is fit to run a three-mile heat with my colt Sapling. But we'll help to make them jolly. I'll take ovor the big silver punch bowl that I won four years ago and have not tsed yet, for Ihave never hed people enough here to make it worth while. We'll christen the bow! on this happy day, and you, madam, shall have the first glass out of it.” And now,” continued the host,looking from the one to the other, “before we do any more or say any more or think of anything else I want you to tell me this: Are you two going to accept my proposition and come to live with me? I don't say anything about winter time, because that may be asking too much, but in’ the time of the year you would want to livein the coun- try, anyway.” “My dear major,” sald Clara, ‘we have been talking about your proposition, and I don't see accepting it.” w wo can help Good!" cried the major— better, best. Iremarked bofore that this isa glori- ous Christmas, and I repeat the statement. Look you! the sun is beaming out of doors almost as brightly as we are beaming in here. There is @ broad path out to the stables, and I want to show you s sorrel mare with the most beautiful tail’and mane you ever saw. Iam her put into training to carry a 1y, and she is to be at your service, madam, whenevor you want her, and as for you, sir, ptables. And if « beautiful coun- an jorses help to make peo} PY T think you will have no fault to Ana Early inthe afternoon the major drove us over to the Dollivers’ behind a pair of magnifi- cent Cleveland bays. The grand action and spirit of the powerful animals, fired by the dehght of being out of doors on this sparkling winter day, would have made Clara tremble, she saidunder ordinary circumstances, but with the major holding the reins she felt as safe as if she were dashing through the white eaps with an old Cape Cod skipper at the tiller. i grand old Christmas time at the Dolliver house. Our hostess, who was soon in- formed of what had happened in the morning, urged that our engagement should be mad known, and when the punch bowl was ehris- tened and the first cupful of the major’s won- derful brew was presented by him to Clara there was an outburst of congratulations, which deeply stirred the hearts of three of us. “And now,” said Major Pendallas, “let us drink the health of the blessed storm of Ohrist- mas eve, eighteen hundred and eighty.” And we drank it. ——_+e+____. THE GREAT BEAR 4 Few Pointers About the Dipper and the North Star, From the Mechanical News. Most people on a clear day can, without ralenaee Oe Ga accra PAGES. LIFE IN PATAGONIA ‘= |Inhabitants of s Small Island Hun- dreds of Miles From Anywhere, MISSIONARIES VS. RUM. ‘The Latter Gets the Best of the Efforts of the Former—What It is to Bean Indian Trader— ‘The Santa Crus Port and River—Amertcans tz e Far Country. ‘From The Star's Traveling Commissioner. Estancia Dt Pasox, Patagowta. F ALL THE HEAVEN-DESERTED RE- gions whereto my roving fortunes have Jed surely this is the most utterly forlorn. Im- agine, if you can, a tiny island hardly a mile and e half long by 850 yards across lost in the | DY broad Atlantic off the eastern coast of Pate-| be gonia, hundreds of leagues from any where—the limits of vision bounded on all sides by the stormiest waters on the face of the earth, ex- cept toward the northwest, where barren plains and salt morasses stretch to the horizon, trod- denenly by Indians, ostriches, pumas and guanacos, How did we get here? It ny ary) inop- Portunely, that the presence at Punta Arenas ofthe small government cruiser that visite these coaste sible for our par: tation of a pleasant Argentine to visit their Patagonian estancia (ranch), where they reside two months out of twelve Our tem- a. home has not even the merits of rasce’s Island, being neither besutiful nor fertile. Though marked on the charts of Fits- roy and Darwin as “Middle Island,” it is here- ‘abouts called Pabon, and lies near the point opposite central Patagonia, where the great Sante Cruz river, having Joined by its greater tributary, the Rio Chico, comes rush- ing into thesea. A ile sexed ago, by special grant from the ‘Argon government, it be- came the property of our entertainer “and his heirs forever,” togeth: to work the Sdjecent soal fisheries, = the vilege unlimi iturage on main find. “But the tiny domain is not a valuable possession, except aa an Indian Post and for fisheries aforesaid. SECURE FROM OUTSIDE BARBARIANS. No feudal baron in his moated castle, with drawbridge up, was ever more secure from the raids of outside barbarians than we are today, for Pabon cannot be approached, except by very narrow fiord on the south. which is pass able only at low tide. The northern channel is much wider and deeper, but the swiftness of the current renders it impassable except ry row boats with the oars in skillful han Fronting the ocean side iss fort, over which float the sky blue and white stripes of Argen- tina (the prettiest fag in the world next to that of the United States), and on the land side a # high stockade is further defended by a foase, which the spring tides fill with water. And beside all these a nine-pounder occupies the front porch of our friend's substantial ci ready and and roving bands of mutinous seamen. sides the owner's house, which is built of brick, with tiled roof, are several cottages tenaated by employes, each surrounded bya garden, where corn and vegetables struggle for an existence. There is also an almacen or storehouse of gen- eral merchandise, stocked with supplies for the residents and articles for barter with the Pata- gonians. The rest of the island is overgrown with small, round “spike thorn” thistles and tunted shrubs, twisted by ceaseless winds into strange and ghostly shapes. One end of it used to be frequently overflowed until a deep drain was cut across, and now the latter serves double purpose, being the best kind of an irrigating ditch. A horse or two for immediate use and a few cows, sheep and pigs are kept on the island, but the flocks and herds are relegated to the mainland to a deep ravine called El Potrero, where coarse grass grows in rank luxuriance. The deep-sea fiord furnishes » moat to this esta: ich a baron of ye olden time would have envied, and row boats moored on the island wer well for drawbridges retainer must attend to affairs an Indian wants to come over and er with exclusive right watch or other timepiece, form a closely ap- proximate ides of the time of the day by the position of the sun, but few, perhaps, have Ruessed at any similar method of computing the timo during tho night without any other means than the “starry skies.” Notwithstan: ing, a fairly reliable time indicator can be found in the northern skies on every cloudless night As is generally known, the group of fixed stars called the “Dipper” makes an aj parent revolution toward the north star in every twenty-four hours, with the two stars forming the outer elevation of the bowl of the dipper pointing nearly directly to the polar star continuously. If the po: of the “pointers” is taken at any given hour, say 6 o'clock in the evening winter time and as soon as it is dark in the summer, the hour can thereafter be pretty ac- curately’ measured by the eye during the night. Frequent observations of positions will have to be made at the gi gto the constant changing position in space, the position of the “pointers” in rela- tion to our point of observation and the star also change. Observations taken during a year and impressed on the mind will ¥ery good time indicator of that part of celestial space, Evidence of Former Experience. From the San Francisco Chronicle. James Richardson, » middle-aged man, was pushed into the receiving hospital by « police- man at an early hour yesterday morning, “He required surgical treatment. There was blood onthis face, on his shirt and on his hands. An interesting assortment of cuts decorated his soalp and his left eye resembled « ripe lum. Piv'Beon fighting?” asked Stoward Freeman. “Yep,” was the reply fom bruised lips. “Got licked?” s “Yep,” and the victim settled Freeman went to work with sponge, nee: laster. sich swollen shoal while and While at work Freeman was observing n's nose. ‘That organ was somewhat and it pointed over its owner's right ;, lying almost fiat to the face. ‘Nose broken?” the steward inquired. 9p,” again answered the mutilated man. Freeman seized hold of Richardson's nasal organ, vigorously and tried to pall it out straight, It did not budge, but the man did. He howled like a wolf and swore like « pirate. “Keop still till I fix it,” said the preparing for another pull. ix! ‘Thunder end great guns! Young man, that nose was broken seven years ago and ‘was mended this way. I don’t want it fixed. I have got used to it as it is and would be lonesome if I could not see i justso. You let that nose alone.” A New Precious Stone, ‘From the Retail Jeweller. A hitherto unknown stone has been found in ‘The Danger of White Lies, Margaret—“Why, the man you are going to marry must be ten years older than you!” Rose—“Oh, no; he's thirty and I'm twenty- six.” aa: Oe nonsense; you're not twenty- Bose—‘Yes, I am—really and truthfally.” M “A nes lave you told him so?” “Because I've just the invitation to your parents’ tives next “A Struggling Young Auther.” ‘From Puck. swap a few furs or feathersfor tobacco, ammu- nition, sugar, beads, or, more likely, rum. Close by the potrero is an extensive salt lake, which by the way must have been overlooked by the Beagle expedition, for Mr, the southernmost limits of *Salini Juiian, some 200 miles above. Lying half» mile from the beach are apparently in- exhaustible beds of excellent salt, but as yet they have been worked only for use on the island and in the near-by Seliorian, except os now and then the Faujkland rs send over for a ship's load. MAINTAINED FOR A TRADING Post. Almost within sight of the island is the port of Santa Cruz, where asplendid bay is formed by the confluence of that river with its tribu- tary, of easy access to the ocean and capable of affording shelter to any number of ships, there being fifty feet of water over the bar at high tide. Here the Argeutine government main- tains a small garrison—for the same reason, probably, that Uncle Samuel sends soldiers to ivers unnecessary places, merely to furnish the blue coats with some semblance of employ- ment. There are also two or three sheep farms within a radius of fifty miles, but in reality this station of Pabon is the only one worth ® name in all central Patagonia, and this is maintained merely for a Tebuiche trading post. American and Engli@h missionaries have come here from time to time, but never accomplished much toward civilizing the aborigines. In 1863 Mesara. Schmidand Hart broughttheir families snd settled at a point called Waddell Bluff, about ten miles up the rivor—in valley which the good Bishop Sterling (who saw it only in summer time) described in most glowing terms, but which during nine months of the year is as cold and cheerless as the rest of Pata- gonia, The to establish jon- aries stand no chance in Fatagonia against the counter attractions of any rascally trader who has rum to sell, for every blessed Indian will travel scores of’ miles to expend all the spoils of his hunting for fire water, but has no time nor [ il if ai ae i in one containing nine skins of the ite Rhea Darwinii, sewn together @ way that the colors alternateand pro- fine artistic effect. In some of San- tiago’s marble palaces 1 have seen these ostrich Fags spread upon the drawing room floor, but they are far too dainty and besutifal for that. Thave also heard of their being used for car- ortieres, even opera cloaks and Bail dresses for the esthetic. “In nm opinion the pest use to which one can put is to throw over a little-used couch or chair, where it will prove a “joy forever,” be: ing too rare to become common and too bea: tiful to ever tire the eye. RATHER 4 GOOD LOOKING LoT. The Tehuelches who come to Senta Cras are rather a good looking lot, with friendly and + faces—before their earnings hare mn invested in ram, a‘ter which they retire to the mainland for generai jollification, which usually degenerates into a regular orgie and winds up in a row. Their foreheads are low but not receding, noses aquiline, mouths large and coarse, toeth dazzling white and per- fectly regular, eyes small and deeply set, the rominence of the cheek bones faces the appearance of having the “‘o the wrong way. The color of their akin varies according to the individual's cleanliness, or rather his lack of it, but seems to be a yellowish brown below the costings of dirt thet have been accumulating layer upon layer ever since he was born. Yet they take considerable pains with their hair, which men and women alike wear long and’ keep from falling over their faces by a fillet tied around the bead; and all go to the trouble of eradicating every vestige of eyebrow. eyelash and beard. Thoir deport- ment toward strangers and one another is ex- tremely polite, without a trace of servil d they havea certain air of well-bred restraint, combined with great dignity of carriage, which isso impressive that the most greedy trader does not treat them with the familiarity bora of contempt. The dress of the men consist of « chiripe, fastened at the waist by a belt, the latter some- times covered with silver, and over this ® capa or mantle of guanaco fur When on horse- back their feet are encased in botos de potto; but for reasons of economy they do not wear them at ordi times. Thechiripa is usually of European flannel (bought of the traders), and fashioned something like a Scotch kilt, and in the waist-belt are stuck hunting knife, re- volver. pipe, tobacco pouch, gambling para- phernalia, drinking borns and goodness knows what other personal belongings. When out hunting the belt and bolas are strapped outside the capa, so that the upper part of the latter may fly loose whenever freedom of the arms is required, as in lassoing and throwing the bolas. To make @ pair of potro boote does not need a knowledge - of the cob- bler's art, for the Indians take it for granted that “it i r foot which cannot shape its own shoe.” The modus operandi is as follows: Having killed your horse, make an in- cision with a sharp knife at the commencement of the lower thigh and another about two inches below the curb plate, and then pull the bide off the lege. ‘Thus one horse will supply two pairs of Wellingtons, in each of which the point of the hock becomes the heel. But before fit for weur the hide must be softened by hand, » task which necessitates considerable patience, for if not well done the boots soon become hard and worthless. Soon as they have been worn long enough to take the shape of the foot the tow ends are sewn up and thé transformation of your horse's hocks into boots is complete. They do not have French heels, however, and though said to be easy-fitting, would be hardly suited to a Washington bali room. DRESS OF THE WOMEN. The women sport a long calico robe beneath the inevitable capa of guanaco skin, the latter fastened at the throat with a wooden peg or # silver pin, eccording to the worldly circum- stances of ‘the wearer. They ail perambulate bare footed, potro boots being « luxury re- served for the men. The children, on whom most of the silver ornaments of the family are lavished, wear a capa like their elders till four or five years old, when they, too, don the kilts. ‘The women wear their hair in plait, artificially lengthened by means of horse hair, and paint their faces abominably. As among all Indians, the females do most of the work. The men go hunting only when the larder is low aud peltries are wanted to exchange for rum and tobacco, but the squaws are busy from morn- ing till night. They are the literal hewers of wood and drawers of water, and all the labor of arranging tents, breaking up camp, as well as the cooking, dressing the game, &c., is left to them. When not otherwise employed their fingers are constantly busy weaving fillets, sewing guanaco capas, grinding stones for bolas and softening potro boot lege. On the death of a Tehuelche all bis horses, dogs and other animals are killed, his capas, ornaments, bolas and other belongings placed in a heap and burne. the numer- ous widows keep up a dismal i. The meat of the horses is distributed among the rela- tives; and then the wives, their faces painted black and hair cut short in front, return bag and baggage to the toldas of their parents, or to that of the chief, if they prefer. The corpse is sewn up in the biggest capa, and placed in a sitting posture with its face to the east; and then » cairn of stone is erected over him, vary ing in size according to the importance of the family. Fanxre B Wamp. Betting Aga. Sure Thing. From the Chicayo Daily dribune. ‘The barber had cut the bair of the man in the chair without saying a word and looked as it he were about to call out “next” when the man said: Tl take @ shave.” ‘The barber shaved him in silence and when he had finished the operation the customer spoke again: | “Sea foam.’ For the next ive or ton minutes the barber was ocen; and remo ten foam’ and he procerved the same Stony courtship, it is related by his wife that he once @ropped into postry and wrote « few lines of verse teeming with affection for his sweetheart. But the verses were always kept sacred by Mra Beecher, as i i i | ! FA i ff | : A E Hy £ i fi E f i i I | f i } | E L of ee] i E: fl 7 An Exact Description of a Method That Fests (Care and Patience Only. From the New York Sun “Will you kindly illustrate by diagrams fm your Sunday edition how a white lawn tie fer evening dress should be tied? Ten thousand ef your readers have occe- fon often to wear even- ing dress and do ng know how to adjust the Ge,” a young man wrote Up tie, an expert says. He ties bis in-band and his Ascot. The read; the. for evening dress, is stiff, cannot be | to Bt snugly to the collar, and ite Mmendation is that it saves the i ik f i knot. Any man who cam tle ties lawn tie, On each man's d_patience, however, depends the success his ti Ty the knot is made carelessly and the fed and wrinkled bis tie tse faih on why some men fail to make: per knot is that they do not take time mi must be handled and after the knot has been made it will that they will be in the position gutlined by ae dots in Fig. 2 If the first knot be not drawn tight the tie will be the wearer by climb= ing up the front of the collar. Then make « bow of the lower end of the tie and ‘op the upper end straight over it, es im ig. 3 The outside of the bow should be bent as the other one was an@ drawn up inside of it. That makes « double bow knot, as shown in Pig. 4. Before the bows sro drawn tight they can be brought down se that they will be parallel with the ends, as im Fig. 5. “That gives the tie a finished ance. To keep the knot tight a very pin, or silver pin with « small round can be run through the back of the knot 80 only ® glimpse of the head of the pin can be oby tained from the side. Small pins were worm last winter, although they are not necessary “Party well, missis. Some of ‘em was men and fought in big battles, but I don’ as that's what makes a hero after all.” “Oh, you don’t!” said I. We were walking along side by side by this time. “And what de you think constitutes a hero?” once as ver knowed Vell, I knowed « little chap what I calla hero. But nobod: much about him and he wa'n't never put in Be book. He's dead now.” can't put him in « book e1 , but I'l him in newspaper and all my children read about him and praise him for bis heroes. Will you tell me? He nodded and we satdown. It was cold in the park and he was barefooted. when I laid my coat knees be it aside and said be didn't mind eold And then he told “He was my chi dead now a year. and I do yot, on cold biows. I wake he's colder than he used to sleeping out doors ‘longside of “His namo was Tom, b “We ran up. ‘There wase gang of bing an old apple woman who used to sell ew ‘the corner. g& aie i i