Evening Star Newspaper, February 18, 1893, Page 7

—_ | | | She is Always Interested in Watch- ing the Proceedings of Congress. SOME HERO WORSHIPERS. ‘They Are Always in Full View of the Solons of the House, Regular Habitues of the Gal- lery, and They Are Always Stylishly Dressed—What They Know. HE TRADITIONAL AT tractiveness of brass buttons for women is not a circum- stance to the fascinating quality of the title of Congressman. Three- fourths of the audience of Congress during the | sessions is made up of women and often there are few others in the galleries. Excopt afew strangers and a section of the colored popula- public galleries more com- ng place than any other listen to the proceedings of asa sicep — cmaammmeamcans THEGALLERYGODDESS gotolunch. The gallery goddess may not bx beautiful. but she is sure to be attractive, anil whether she dresses plainly or richly, you car depend upon it she is always stylish." She is a | session girl, Noone knows what becomes of her when the session closes and when the new session begins she is as punctual and as nume:- ous as the claimants, who never dje and never get old. ———_ Written for The Evening Star. A Night With Ghosts. One night, in a haunted chamber, I woke, past the midnight hour, And saw with numbing horror, Weird forms by the hearthstone cower. Searee human, vet strangely life-like In 18 and gestures, while ‘They spoke iceless murmur ‘That Better concealed their guile. ‘They noted, with sullen faces, ‘The spot where I shook with fear; ‘Then sudden, as at a signal, First one and then all drew near. As palsied I waited, nelpless, ‘The while they so slowly came, And wished J might die if ever 1 felt thelr foul breath of ame. ‘They came, oh, 80 slowly, slowly; ‘They seowled at wy visage pale, Until I could bear the torture Nomore, and a sharp, fletce wall Burst loud from my lips, and startled ‘The imps in thetr evil scheme, Who qnickis and completely vantshed, As thongh but a gruesome dream. ‘No more at the witching midnight 0 funket on pie and ham, some reason the | the Senators are re is surely } rons body o} © area great youngest | ‘This may ac- shown that | alwava women in | “Speaker's gallery” though ofte' anywhere abo’ | part of what I heard I Or feed to a haughty stomach Burut beans and a fossil clam. —Brecr Weston Muwro. ——+e-- Cannibalism an African Hoax. From the London Daily News Dr. Livingstone. in his hitherto unpub! letter, warns his friend, Dr. Hamilton, against accepting too readily stories of cannibalism among A: y ong ‘whom he had beon then living for many months, are reputed to be cannibals and the people themselves, being “a laugh race, +p= pear to enjor the joke of hoaxing the white man on this subject. One showed Dr. Livingstone the bead of “a recent human victim,” but it proved to be the skull of a gorilla, Dr. Living- stone perseveringly tried to get a sight of one | of the eannibal orgies which the traders profess | to have seen or heard of, but iv vain. He of- fered goods of the value of a pound sterling to | any one who would cali him to see human flesh | cooked or eaten, but nothing came of the offer. Livingstone contrasts this absence of evidence tales he had heard at ion given by adjacent “If I had believed,” he saya, “a tenth never have ven- ‘tared hither, Possibilities of Compound Interest. From the New York Tribune. An Idaho correspondent sends the Tribune a Photograph of an old Ideho mortgage, which shows in a startling way the amazing possibil- ities of compound interest. The mortgage was | | from which hung keys of all sizes and shapes, THE EVENING STAR FERNALD'S MISTAKE. From the Argosy THE VAULTS OF the Rothschild house at Frankfort-on- the-Main there sat a young man about thirty years of age before a* from others of the same kind only in being lined with zine and having two extremely compli- cated locks. He heldin his banda papercovered with figures, and beside him were two clerks, one quite an old man, who together packed the trunk with slender rouleaus of shining gold. “Six thousand florins more make one hundred thousand,” said the old man. “That is right, Keblar,” answered he who was seated, looking at his list, Other kinds of coin came in their order; Packet after packet was laid in the trank until it was nearly full. “This will be very heavy.” said Keblar after counting and packing for some time. “It will indeed,” replied the young man, who was named Fernald; ““but ten thousand foreign pistoles must «till go in. Keblar continued bis work in silence. When it was finished he raised one end of the trunk to test the weight. “Can it go?” asked Fernald, anxiously. “Yes, I suppose 4o; but if comments are made about it, you had better say you are carry- ing cimens of hardware.” key itet if © capital idea. Now give mo the ey. Keblar took ont of his pocket a steel ring, and, selecting one, handed it to Fernald, who, after locking the trunk, pocketed it carefally with his list. “Limust now receive the baron’s final orders and take my leave of him.” said Fernald. “Send the trunk to my lodgings, Keblar, and with it the letters I am to take to Vienna.” “i will attend to it, sir,” said the old man. All three thon left the strong, heavily fastened roora, and Keblar closed the iron door securely after him. Fernald was from an old burgher family of Frankfort; he was an employe in the great Rothschild banking business, and had a depart- ment which proved that the head of the estab- ‘ishment placed implicit confidence in bis in- tegrity. The baron now intrusted him with a commission to his brother in Vienna, where he was to take the immense sum of nearly half a million of money. He went directly from the vault to Baron Rothschild’s counting room, where his final instructions were given him. As the great man dismissed him, he inquired: “Do you take a servant with you? , baron, my old Conr e an old man?” id, but trusty. ‘Well, you know him better than I, but, my dear fellow, trust no one further than you can see him, for we have so many people in the business that this journey is no secret. there should bea traitor among us our WASHINGTON, D. C., SATURD * 18, 1893—SIX AY, FEBRUARY } | which obliges me to go dtrectly to Vienna.” il there, passing through on her way from Italy. nald, such @ delightful companion, for nothing in the world would make me so happy as to have accept a seat in my carriage.” like a true knight, hen will yor rotect | woody hills,and then plunged into deep valley «. large open traveling | me from all the dangers of the way? Oh! one | The horseswent apparcuily with great diffeulty, trunk, which differcd | thing more. Thavea serrant whom I would | and as the carriage no longer rattied Fernald | { maid is only a nuisance, bute man is always useful.”” ““A very good idea, and suits me exact; cried Fernald. “Is he young, strong and trusty?” ‘Then I will leave my own at home, as he will be quite unnecessary. So it is settled, we take vour man.” “There is still a little difticulty,” said Mme. von Bernard, thoughtfully; “his name is not on my passport and he has none of his own, and as one cannot be procured this evening I fear you will get into trouble. . You sec she said, with her most gracious «mile, ‘your traveling companion begins already to annoy ou.”” 7’On the contrary, Tam happy to say I can serve you also in this difficulty,” cried Fernald. “The baron has put me in possession of a paper that will be an ‘open sesame’ for all police regulations.” “Ithank you from my henrt,” said Mme. Bornard, with » beaming look. “Pray tell no one of my sudden flight, for I should have to answer a thousand questions, prompted by mere idle curiosity, and that is so tiresome. Good night! At what time shali I bo ready in the morning?” If 5 o'clock is jot too early I will call for “Very well. Once more, good night!" She left him in such a state of joyful excite- ment that he could only think of the pleasure he promised himself on the morrow, and never reflected for # minute upon the fact that a note brought by # young man caused her strange uneasiness, even before opening it. As the company now had no longer attractions for him he departed, unobserved, in order to take the rest needful for his early journey. Il. Ht was precisely 5 o'clock on the following morning when Fernald drove up to Mme. von Bernard's dwelling in the karon’s comfortable covered carriage, drawn by two stout horses. ‘The important trunk was firmly screwed on be- hind. The house door opened as they stopped and @ young man in gray livery came out, and bowing respectfully, announced that Mme. Bernard would be ready directly. He then brought out a small trunk and handbox, and put them upon the box. In » few minutes Mme. Bernard appeared, closely veiled. and on- veloped in s costly India shawl. Fernald sprang to meet her and lifted her in with assiduon care. He then seated himself beside her, the servant closed the door, sprang up beside the posti started at a brisk trot. The post horn sounded, and the carriage clatterel so over the stony pavement’ that cone Versation at first waa impossible; but soon the If | wheels rolled lightly along the «mooth highway | not disgrace Mime. Bernard. but he would tell and Fernald began conversing, obtaining, how- “T have this moment received some news Vienna? But you just aaid you knew no said so: bat [have since leirned that an | aunt. my only relative, has been taken suddenly m truly sorry for the cause,” said Fer- ut Tam thankful that I am to have like to take with me. On such a journey a mn, who cracked his whip and off they | ~Did you remember to put my crochet nee- die ito the trunk?” “Yes, madame: I packed it.” At first Fernnld’s heart beat high with jor. for the tone and question was only that suitable toaservant, but he presently reflected that man did not usually take charge of such arti- | cles as crochet needies and the like, and he be- gan to snispect that the question was put to test the reality of his elumbers. He resolved, there- fore, still to feign sleep for awhile. The car- | riage went very slowly, for they were come to a mountainous region, whera the road ascended could hear distinctly each word spoken upon the box. The postilion cracked his heavy whip in vain, the horses strained every nerve, but could go no faster; finally he said with an oath: “What cursedly heavy baggage!” “You only have three passengers and two trunks,” replied Lippman; “Iam sure that is not much.” “No, not much,” answered the postition. but they are heavy enough.” “Then you cannot be accustomed to carry much baggage?” “Iam not accustomed to carry such; they are very rare,” said the postilion, with a short, dry laugh “What are rare? Such tranks as ours?” “Why, yes. A man does not often see one exactly like that screwed on bebind us,” said the postilion, knowingly. “I know nothing about it,” replied Lippman, curtly. This conversation foreed upon Fernald an unpleasant discovery; namely, that the driver knew the contents of his trunk. It occurred to him that he would have preferred that this villainous-looking person who drove hi through this solitary and thickly wooded region should not have known that he had with him haifa million of money. His thoughts, how- ever, were so taken up with Mme. Bernard and her servant that this only caused him a moment's uneasiness, The carriage stopped so that Fernald felt obliged to awake suddenly, and saw the postil- ion ‘and his cempanion alight, that the weary horses might have leas to carry. Soon they fell back and commenced talking earnestly and rapidly. Fernald wondered if they-were con- Yersing about the trunk, perhaps laving some plot.and he regretted’ most heartily that he ad exchanged his own trusty servant for this detestable young man. Involuntarily his hand fell upon the two loaded revolvers in the pocket of the carriage; then turning to his companion he commenced an animated conversation, She now appeared at ease, and more like hersolf than before, and as he met the glance of her beautiful eyes and listened to her clear voice he felt truly ashamed of his doubts. After the two men had resumed their seats on the box a long pause ensued. Presently Fernald observed that Lippman wrote some- | thing, in bis pocket book, and, tearing out the | leaf, folded it into the’ shape of a note and | placed it ir his glove. thought Fernald, his wrath rising | anew, “‘a billet-doux for Mme. Berrard! As jfoon ae T turn around it will be thrown to ber!” He felt redoubled hatred toward Lippman: if a gendarme had been near he would have given him into custody, but no such person was to be seen, Soon they arrived at the next stopping place. On the way thither Fernald had reasoned with | himself, and said revenge was ignoble; he would { | her that he had discovered her deception—had th my life. But what will you do—not ¢ him to Vienua, eurely?” No. indeed. I intend to go as f : there he can , without fear of detection.” “Without doubt, an Fernald: ‘bat «bail I. the: you as far as Salzburg?” b> ‘choly tone. ‘Mme. Bernard did not answer, but Inid her finger on her lips, for just then the maid cn- tered to lay the tabio. “Lay three plates,” fo- it tk * Salz- | zeviand | plan,” said ‘only Accompany ded. in a melan- raid he to th jatter. h, that is quite mnnecessary,” whispered | Mme. Bernard. “Every one would think it strange for the master and serrant to eat to- wether. Let him stay im the servants ball. “Very well, as you like.” Then, turning to the maid: “Only two!” 1 “And what kind of note did Lippman hand you just now?” asked Fernald, in a low tone, | turning to his companion. She changed color slightly, saying: “Did you see that, too?” “That you never shall,” answered she, | quickly. “More secrete still “In this you must submit. “T submit to any yoke yoy lay upon me.” With these words he was about to take her hand, but she turned from him, blushing deeply, and at the samo instant the hostess en- tered with a smoking soup tureen. “Tell the postilion to harness while we dine, said Fernald. “I think he is doing so now,” replied the woman. “Then he can wait,” replied Fernald care- | lesaly, mL ‘When they had spent half an bour at the | table Mme. Bernard told the maid to call her | servant and Fernald sent for the postilion to| arive up, After some time the maid retarned and said she could not find tho servant and the | postilion had driven on in advance. “Gone on! without me!” cried Fernald in as- tonishment. “Did vou not order him to do #0?” asked the hostess, who had just entered and seemed rather disturbed; “they tell me he drove away like ee “Worse and worse!” exclaimed Fernald; “but why did I not hear it roll away?” “You said the carriage must not remain standing in the street, @@ he drove out the b: way, from which a lane leads to the city gate. “Now heaven help me!” cried Fernald inghe greatest excitement. Send for the burgo- master—mounted police—and a hundred thalers to any one who will have a horse ready saddled in ten minutes—a fast one, mind!” Great confusion ensued; some ran for the burgomaster, others for the police, and Fernald ina few minutes enw a strong fresh horse be- fore the door. The reins were already in his hand, but he dropped them and turned to Mme. Bernard, who came to the window, pale and frightened, and calling in vain for Lippman. “Is he not there? Have you not yet found this Lippman?” egied Fernald, with an inde- scribably scornful emphasis on the “Heaven only knows where he plied, bursting into tears. “Oh, but I know too well.” cried he, beside | himself with rage and disappointment. “I see Tam the victim of a plot; yes, of the most TEEN PAGES. the carriage to see what would next r came from the great was just the other side of the hill. A road led me. von Bernard bed off into the woods, and there stood —— burang sot with thé scar, awaiting the booty with folded pite of this made arms His horses were by him, and he had mim his Life. evidently come to take charge of the trunk aud Re anewer came, in a few carry it off, heaven knows where. i This was an unpleasant discovery for me. I racked my brains to think how to deal with them, but resolved to leave it to my lucky | stars. “There vou are,” I heard the fellow with the | sear call out. “Has all turned out weil?” ““Why not?” was answered from the box ‘Come, drive off your horses, they must not be Send be the rond, tarned their b Rave them some sharp cuts, which eet them off in fall trot, The next moment would have dis- covered me, and I dared not be found weapon- leas. T slipped from the trunk, glided swiftly round the carriage, and, as their backs were turned, succeeded in getting in and seizing your pistols: then leaned quietly back in the corner. Just then shouted All right; go ahead!’ and came to the door to jump in. “I raw fess that I now regret what I did; ‘* ugly red face and bis look of rage at seeing me were so utterly repulsive that I | lost control of myself and fired. I trust I have not killed him. He fell, grasping his shoulder, T think I wounded bim there. “And the other,” said Ternaid, who had lis- | toned with breathless attention. “The other had discovered me just as I fired, | nd now was feeling for his knife. But him | alone I did not fear. I pointed the other pistol | athim and cried: ‘You are a thief,and 1 will oot you, as Tdid that other dog. if you do | not leave immediately—away with you!” He went away, cursing me with all his might, and | left me room to turn: this I did with great ifti- culty, and I felt obliged to keep my eyes and the pistol both upon him, bat he withdrew to | his wounded comrade. 1 whipped up and here we are, “How shal! I thank vou?" eriea Fernald. “This is the bravest deed [ever heard of! You know not what you have saved me by your de- | boldness and presence of mind.” will drive you home, if you will get i said the stude xious to stop his praise and commendation. My sister will be unensy “Yes, yes, let us go.” Shall I continue to drive?” ‘es, by all means. Hut let me sit on the box | beside you, that we may talk together. You are a hero” a perfect treasure of a student. He got up beside him, and the tired borses fell into a slow trot. ray, tell me your name. said Fernald. am called Leonard Dorneck.”” nd you are a student, compromised by | taking part in the late riot?” | Als! ves.” “I will assist vou were you involved ever #0 deeply,” cried Fernald, confidently. “I assure you I shail not refuse your help, said Dorneck, Inaghing. “But,” said Fernald, with = deep sigh, must do the same for me.” “You? What do you mean “I feel myself laden with a great sin, which | concerns you and your sister. Iam not trou- bled so much about you. Your sister, I feel, | Will never forgive me. “Well, confess to my sister and beg for par- don; you will get it She thinks rather highly of you already, and I wrote her a little note to- day congratulating her upon her conquest and giving my consent to any tittle arrangement you may make. So you see you have not much I do not yet congratulations that all had turned out so well, and with Dorneck «# passport vised according to order, he might also bave added congratuiations io the bappy couple on their engageme: ibe next mor the inn. Kc ‘aieches at ‘Ope contained Mm od before Rernard ar KK. whence «be Fernald was in bi which sat aroyal Reverie tect the precious trunk the rest of the way te Vieuna. One fortnight af Frankfort, having deity to the proper auth him » mo the he returned safely te the valuable tron’ bringing with bis betrothed — brother oe, and from and canes to with half e KErP YOUR PoWLS AT HOME. Mrs. Tomkyns om ¥ OODNE <G Tried It and Mas Found w Tt Works SS ME! WHAT WAS THATY® said nervous Mrs. Noodles t visitors in the drawing room De on Q street it was her “day” — looked equally startied. “Oh, that’s only my rooster,” expinined the hostess, “He hns a sort of basso profando crow that sounds rather odd strange “You don"t mean to say that you keep chickens in your ce said Miss Me who professes a horror of “all kinds of animale confess with reluctance that euch is the fact,” admitted Mrs, Tomkyns, “However, I protest that I'am not to blame. Some time age my hush that | conid get chickens for the table mor ply by purchasing them alive. Furthermore, it would thus be possible to make sure of healthy fowls *‘Snoorleby,” I said, ‘yon know very well that it will be great bother to pluck them, and I know how to pick out good chickens ready dressed.” “You can never tell that they may not bave died natural deaths,’ replied my husband ob- “Suppose that a whole flock is care an epidemic of pip or chicken chol- era, Do you imagine that the farmer throws away the cadavers? Not much. He dresses them and een bem to market, where you and buy them. { tell yon that we men k more about such things than you women do, ‘Well, my dears.” continued Mrs. Tomkens, rou know how it is with these men. There is no use in arguing with them, because they are ned off leonvinced that they know it all about every- thing. As usual, [ yielded, and the next time I went to market I bonght «ix chickens, all alive, One of them chanced to be. ter. Iwas | going to have a pair of dinner, but y husband insisted that to be fat- tened for a few days befe ‘killed. He was good enough to purel of corn for that purpose. When I that thie method would add considerably to the cost of the birds by the time they were ready for the table 1a Fhe abominable infamous plot ever planned.” to fear.” With these words he leaj Mr. Tomkyms laughed at me in his aun Teleian Gothene: and your throat run a great risk. Here,’ executed in 1861 ona piece of land in Boise ever, only abstracted replies from his compau- | seen through her trick. and that he would mag- But the most popular of all the galleries is that in the southeast corner, to which no cards necessary, though it is not epen indiscriminately to ‘the public. Statesman in the House would agree that the point of no quorum was well taken if at any session there was not a bevy of beauty assem- bled there. This galiery faces the House di- rectly and Congress can look into the eyes of the audie sembled there. Members have | but to lift their eves above the dead level of | their desxs and their thoughts above the dead Jevel of dreary legislation to bebold a vision of loveliness, ani ther often do lift both eves and thoughts.” Even before the hour for the meet- ing of the House the fair habitues of this gal- Jere come tripping through the corridorssizgly and in pairs and ride up in the elevator with the assembling statesmen and then take their places in the gallery. smiling down on the most attractive branch of this great government. The women who have business with the states- men, or make any pretense of having business with them, keep to the lower corridors or sit in the little corner in statuary hall which has been set aside and furnished asa waiting room. | ‘Those who go to the gullery are there for enter- tainment or instruction. HERO WORSHIPERS. There are many whoare very diligent students of legislation and human nature, takings broad and sweeping view from the gullery elevation. Some look upon the entire aggregation of talent onthe floor with undivided admiration, but most of them are hero worshipers, each having one or more favorites whom she holds im esteem above the rest. In this assemblage of goddesses who sit in judgment there are almost as many factions as the lessee, and it bas come to be well that any upon ild controversy y looks of resentment. » many old women and ebild strangers within Unele » in this gal- lerz trom time to t the preponderance style and gay a note fin » the floor er from 1 now and then # ty and instract the mysteries of ec. mature youth with bea: Oe tastefal ts, Is way from this ga! the door to the statesman will si « one of these fair students Statecraft. THE G, LEERY GovDESS fs as typical as the summer girl. ciently modest not to attract she does no: waat, and independent enough to attract just as much attention as abe wan She smiles sweetly upon the elevator man ai She is suffi- attention when with bis most marked characteristic: fully capable of mentary problem, and kuows each day what is ‘expected to come up. She is discussing a knotty parlia- WHAT SHE xNows. She can tell as well as can any one how a vote fe going to come out. She also knows which ‘are the most amiable and gallant among the members and when they can best spare time to Any | the: | against Great Albion. | Lord Roseberry was not, from the French lenjoying the zenith of its power. | broad City “to secure the sum of $340, if paid in legal tender, with interest, at the rate of 20 per cent per month. But if said note shall be paid, * * * n the sum of $170, with interest, at 10 per cent per month, and if said interest is not paid &t the time of maturity of this note, said in- terest to be added to the principal, and said principal and interest together shali draw in- terest per month as abore stated.” These con- ditions were evidently not fulfilled, for a note is appended to the document as follows: “The above mortgage ia not satisfied, according to the records of Ada county. With interest on #170, at 10 per cent per month, compounded every six months, the debt would now amount to $45,972.003.182\826.50.” There are a great many ‘millionaires in the country, but there is probably only one man in the world who is in= lebted in the sum of nearly forty-six trillions of dollars. = are A French View of British Interference. Gazette de France in London Times. “Hitherto the khedive was supposed to be a vassal of the porte. and the object of the En- glish occupation was imagined to be the preser- vation of order and the protection of the coun- try against the dervishos. But what is now taking place shows that Egspt is regarded in London only asan English possession. It was worth while to make this clear. But we have no reason to be displeased. The more the En- glish become disliked in Egypt the sooner the time will come when it will be easy to throw them into the sea. There is nothing swecter for truly Freuch ears than the chorus of male- dictions now riv.oz from_all parts of the globe We always asserted that point £ view, worth much more that Lord Salisb@ry. We, joo, quickly forgot that Mr. Gladstone in 1870 showed himself clearly hostile to France, and that the jiberals at that time aud Gen. Grant, President of the United States, were the first to congratulate, Germany on its’ victories over ns. Their present attitude is what might have been expected. They are and will remain | our enemies.” ee = Ghastly Vision in an Ocean Storm. From the Pall Mall Gazette. According to a Sydney correspondent, a letter bas been received in the colony from Mr. P. G. Hart, mate of the ship Peebleshire, from which itappears that tho vessel on her voyage home had » trying experience, during which they passed a wrecked vessel, on whose decks were her dead crew, probabiy twenty hands. It seems from the letter that when off Cape Horn the Peebleshire met with a hurricane, during which it was not safe to put astitch of canvas | on the vessel. She was therefore hove to under | bare poles, in which state she drifted for some | hours, While being carried along thus a wrecked ship was seen the Peebleshire was taken quite close to her. To the horror of those on board the ship about twenty dead bodies wers seen on the deck of the stranger, being washed about by the seas which were sweeping over the vessel. This sight was witnessed under tho light of « brilliant moon and during the how! of the hurricane, which made the experience as weird as could "be imagined. After a bit the wind moderated and sail was set to a moderate extent. and the Peebleshire was carried away from her ghastly companion. _—-oe—___ Scene in Rome. From the New York Evening World. It was in the good old days when Rome was The long, venue leading from the Forum to the Appian turnpike was deserted. Two Roman senators peered cautiously out of a side door. Noone was looking, so they braced boldly out, says Quips. ‘oor Horatius is dead. I loved him, Yor- said ont Vhy, Silas,” returned the other, “haven't you recovered from that yet? Horatius died full two months ago.” “Yes, if he hadn't been so full we might be smoking his good cigars now. But that is not what troubies me.” A look of inquiry overspread the face of Yorick. Yesterday.” continued Silas, “we exhumed the body, and what do you suppose we found? Nothing but a chunk of mad.” “By the beard of the prophet!” exclaimed the astonished Yorick, “how do you account for that 1. I think that our poor friend drunk so much that instead of turning into original dast he turned into mud.” Silence, “Come in and have something.”” — so An Innocent Father. From Grenoble Monthly. Miss No ball dress)—*'What do you think of it, pape?” Mr. Newly Rich—“-Beautiful, my dear, beau- thful; it’s a shame to hide such beautiful under- clothing. Now run and get your dress on or you'lj be late for the ball.” | ple: added, “‘is a document from the Austrian em- bassy to the head of the police department, so that 1m case of need a force can be immediately placed under your direction. Now, fare my young friend, and may God protect you. “Have no anxiety, baron. I shall doubtless be unmolested. As toon as I reach Vienna I will announce the fact to you,” said Fernald, taking his credentials, “Do so, and once more farewell.” Fernald intended tostart the following morn- ing at5o'clock and totravelin the baron's caleche, with post horses, for at the date of our narrative railroads were ‘unknown in the coun- try. It was in the year 1838, shortly after the so-called “Frankfort riot,” thet bold outbreak of rash students upon the city police which led toso many stringer? and annoying rules and regulations, After Fernaldhad completed his preparations for the morrow. finding he e evening before him. he resolved to spend it with a small reunion which he know would be amembled at the house Of the secretary of legation. Fernald had made the acquaintance of this gentleman by transacting business with him at the bank and having once accepted an invita- tion to his house he frequently directed his steps to its hospitable threshold, for he found there s powerful magnet, and was now a regu- lnr guest on the evenings when Mr. von Frid- This being one of these occasions, Fernald soon found himself in the midst of a gay and fashionable company. After paying his ta to the lady of the house and chatting f ly with one or two acquaintances he turned to- ward a lady, the center of a group of gentle- men, who all paid marked attention to her brilliant and animated conversation, She was about six-and-twenty years old, had large sparkling black eyes, great profusion of dark hair, clear, pale compiexion and an exquisitely | shaped head, and although the first bloom of ‘outh was passed this young widow was #o culti yated, piquant and witty that she was alwa} surrounded by admirers. She had lately come to Frankfort, having always lived upon the lower Rhine, but being quite independent since the death of her husband bad taken up ber | abode in what she declared to be her favorite city. She bad become acquainted with Mme. | vou Fridburg by occupying the next box at the opera for a whole season, and had been re- ceived, through her, into afew families, The ion.’ He observed that she lacked that ease | nanimously protect her and her lover through which she usually possessed in such a remarka- | any danger. Still, he found it very hard to ble degree. Did anxiety for her aunt trouble | bring himself to this generous act; he, who her? Or did she regret the tnconventional step | loved her so madly, was, against his will, the } she had taken in placing herself under his pro- tection? Either was probable, but Fernald thought more of the latter and remembered, with a thrill of joy, that she couldnot nowdri back. Soon their conversation came to a standstill and Mme. von Bernard threw herself back and closed her eyes, as if to regain hor morning nap. When they arrived at the first station, where they were to change horses, a Bavarian ‘official thrust his head in the carriage window and said Inconically: “Your passports!” Fernald drew forth bis and handed it to him with Mme. Bernald’s, who said: “My servant's name is not upon mine; I de- cided so late to take him that there was no time to obtain his et.” “Very well; then he cannot go; we have the phlegmatic but utterly resolute tone. Fernald saw that sho turned pale and shecast # helpless look at him. “Do not be troubled,” he said, with a reas- suring emile; “this will mal all right.” And he handed a folded document to the officer. “The servant accompanies me,” he added. ‘The police officer after giancing over the Parreturned to to-Hernatd “with a respoctfal wand told him that he would immediately see that the wore vised. He went away with them in hishand. The setvant, meanwhile, had been an interested spectator of this transaction. and Fernald no- ticed his face for the first time. He liked his appearance extremely, for his countenance was handsome and intelligent, set in curling chost- nut locks and enlivened by dancing brown eyes. He could have been only about twenty. for a dark down covered his upper lip. Fernald Jooked at him with admiration and thought Mme. von Bernard had the handsomest lackey ever seen in a lady's service. The horses were brogght out and Fernald ‘slighted to soe that his precious trunk was safe. After a while the official brought back the pass rts, and asthe young man turned to hand ers to Mme. Bernard he saw a peculiar look of intelligence pass between herself and the servant. He felt a sudden pang of jealousy,but he instantly suppressed it and thought: “What folly! Tought tobe ashamed of myself,” and Indies considered her too coquettish, but the gentlemen seemed to think she had no faults, | and Fernald was especially attentive. ‘So you are going to nna,” she said, as Fernald took a vacant chair near her, and the | other gentlemen, one by one, withdrew. “Yes, Mine. Bernard: tomorrow very early, answered the young man. “If Iean do any- thing for you there it will give me the greatest ure. bh, thank you! Thavenot any commit for Vienna; indeed, I know no one in all the city. Do you remain long?” “T go on business that will only detain me a few days, but even that is too long, for my heart will be here. Mme. Bernard threw her head back witha very animated gesture, and half turning to him, said mockingly: i “And do you expect me tobelieve that? Any | young man must be rejoiced to travel in this lovely spring weather, especially to so gay and fascinating a place as Vieuna.”” | “It grieves me that my assurance is met with such total unbelief.” said Fernald. “I feel imelined to quote the old German verb: ‘Women will believe anything but the truth.’”” “Well, that is quite natural,” replied Mme. von Bernard, laughing. “‘It is very hard to believe what is disagreeable, and truth almost always is so.” “Are the feelings and emotions which your sex inspire in the hearts of men so disagreeable and incredible?” She blushed slightly, but shrugged her shoulders and was about to make some saucy reply when a servant, approaching, anid a few words in an undertone and handed her a small folded paper. : “The young man is below and awaits an an- swer,” Fernald heafd him say. ‘Mme, von Bernard changed color visibly; she tore open the note, read it hastily, and, turning to the servant, said: “Tell him yes. All is right.” The servant withdrew. Fernald, who felt himeelf overpowered by jealousy at’ this little scene, whispered sarcastically: “So you have a secret dence?” She nodded, smiling abstractedly, rose and went into the ante room, where she seemed to wish to be alone. In this, however, she was not gratified, for several young men’ approached and tried to draw into conversation. Fernald, who had followed at a little distance, could not but observe how shortly and laconic- ally xho answered them; it almost as if her eye sought him; and lothe was not mistaken —sbe ‘somewhat haughty dismissal to the su ding group, went directly across to », Mr. Fernald,” she said, draw- tomorrow “Listen to ing him aside. ‘You are going early morning to Vienna—what would you say if I taking charge of a lady thither?” A friend of yours? I shotld be mts Ses ppesk as leed, 1 bep..1decued allude to a but to myself!" “You? Impossible!” jumped into the carriage, which started di- rectly. “It will be better,” said Fernald, “to have Your servant pass for mine the rest of the way. It simplifies the affair. “Oh, thank vou." ‘replied hus companion eagerly; “‘but I had no idea the police were #0 strict.” They are, especially now. I must know the if your man.” ‘His name is Lippman—Otto Lippman.” “From Frankfort?” jo, not from there. You come from Nassau, do you not, Lippman?” “From Hadamar, madam,” answered the youth, who leaned back to reply to his mistress’ ‘question. + Fernald thought he saw again an expression in the man’s eyes that wasexceedingly disagree- able to him, for he felt that he had a spy upon his movements, if nothing else. In conse- quence conversation flagged still more. Fernald tied to talk with his companion about her for- mer place of residence, but found it impossible to draw her out. She appeared ill at easo and anxious. Was her anxiety on account of her servant? One thing was certain—there was something peculiar about this man. He talked at times | with the postilion, a -looking, broad- | shouldered fellow, with a villainous sear across | his brow and nose; the carriage made such a noise that Fernald could not hear what they said, but observed that the servant spoke very pure German, and certainly, not the Hadamar dialect. Sometimes he looked round into the carriage, and glanced at his mistress with an | expression decidedly not suitable for a servant. He wore. as was proper, rough leather gloves; but as he drew one of ‘them off Fernald saw a delicate white hand, with beautifully shaped nails—o band which decidedly could not belong toa servant. Fernald beeame more uncomfortable as time went on. Had this charming woman, with whom he was more in love than he had confessed to himself, deceived him about this fellow? Was he a lover in disguise, whom she took with her? Did he, in his simple good nature, assist at an elopement? Was this why ‘the passport was not forthcoming? Might not the story of the sick aunt have been improvised for the occasion? How often had he heard Mme. Bernard called coquettish and im- Pradont; and aboveall, why must ho remember just now that no one really knew anything "All these ite rush ultuously ed tumultu through his and rendered him thor- oughly wretched. He finally leaned back in Fe eras of Ge cterngs i his eyes. jo wished to appear to sleep, ver ungal- Isnt this might seem, in order to observe if any — passed between mistress and eorvan His ruse soon succegded. He felt that Mme. leaned forward and hesrd her say, i servant on respectfully : fell, id most stringent orders," replied the official ina | It was a despicable resolved to carry out his | party to her elopement' | affair, but he was | noble intention. They had now arrived at the little village, where they were not only to change horses but | todine. It was a highly picturesque, but very | miserable place where they were obliged to wait—an old inn, with a largo, old-fashioned | courtyard, with arms cut in the stone gateway. They alighted and were shown by the rosy hostess fhito a large room on the first floor. While Fernald was ordering dinner he watched Madame Bernard closely, in a mirror that hung opposite to him, and found that he had not been mistaken; Lippman, in passing her, imagining himself unobserved, slipped something into her hand. She took it quite as if she were accustomed to such confidences, and walked to the bay window to read it unnoticed. Poc » Fernald’s heart throbbed violently with jealousy and grief. He walked rapidiy up and down the room in the greatest agitation. A horrible thought had crossed his brain and he could not rid himself of it. Who had told bim that this was Mme. Bernard's lover? If she had Planned an elopement, what need had she of is protection? -Was she not band free to marry her servant, if she wished? And Lippman was no servant. That he could see With haif an eye. No, no; far more likely that the plot concerned his valuable trunk! Did not the postilion know itscontents? And very robably half Frankfort knew the object of his Jo How many times had he heard of led _swindlers? He felt himself the victim of a fiendish conspiracy. But no, he would not believe it; the idea was too monstrous, too terrible. Fernald was ashamed of his thoughts, but econld not stifle them, when Mme. Bernard suddenly turned and asked him some question concermmg their future journey. He answered her as curtly as “Do you know,” she said, smiling, “that you look very cross, and I might say fieree, besides having been remarkably silent for some time? Confess, now, that you regret having taken me for a traveling companion, and wish me at Jericho! Do you not?” This was said with the most artless manner and the sweetest of smiles, but neither had its usual effect upon the unhappy man. “Does she try to play with ms?” he asked himself, grimly. “Madame,” h> answered, somewhat brusquely, “I need not assure you that your company is agreeable to me at any time, but [ must confess to you that the presence of Otto Lippman is far from being 80. The man is no servant, his livery isa masque- rade, and while on the one,band your want of confidence wounds me to the quick, on the other I have reasons of my own for being very watchful and suspicious of a strange com- panion.” At these words Mme. Bernard turned as pale asashes. She looked at him in silence, as if tuned, and approaching him half whispered: “Have you, then, discovered this?” “I have perceived it; and must ask you, de- cidedly, for an explanation.” You are right—quite right,” she answered wickly. “I have treated you unfairly, but Koeaven knows it wes not my felt Theva the most perfect confidence in your nobleness and generosity, but my brother wished—he re- quired. it,'or Tshould at once have told you, jerr Fernald.” 3 “Your brother wished—required?” “It is of my brother that you were speaking, whispered, in the greniest excitement, “I will confess all to you. It is right that you should know the whole——" “Is the young man yofir brother?” cried Fer- nald joyfully. “He is my brother,” replied Mme. Bernard. “Bat why is be thus disguised?” “This disguise he was obliged to take in con- sequence of his mad folly, in which he per- sisted, deaf to all entreaties, He is a student in his first year at Heidelberg, and came here to take part in thet outbreak, the particulars of which you know so well. Being compromised dveply by it he took refuge with me, instead of escaping to a foreign land, and I have con- cealed him for two months past.” “This, then, is the menning of the riddle!” said Fernald, ready to ask her pardon upon his knees for his base doubts, “This is the secret,” said she, “which I give unreservedly into your keeping. ailAnd.now you intend fo pass him on in this possible, “That is my intention. At first escape was impossible; the police were ao strict that we were obliged to wait. Lately I have been daily moro anxious and impatient and last night, whena friend of my brother's brought mea note suggesting this plan. I was glad to avail myself of it, Here, briefly, you have the Thole story," she concluded, ‘‘and now you rw all!” “Yes, enough to make me heartily ashamed to stand before you,” said Fernald, “and you can- not imagine how happy it makes me to be of service to you.” we him her hand with » look o and he pressed it eagerly to hist ‘Believe me,” he said, “‘not a hair of your brother's head shall bo injured; I will answer IF THE BARBERS WOULD START A FASHION LIKE THIS IT WOULD RELIEVE THE MOXOTONY OF OUR WHY NOT? | dler and my postilion have escaped with my into the saddle, just as the burgomaster, a fat man in his shirt sleeves, came running beathlessly round the said Fernald, turning to him, “a swin- carriage—send all the force you can collect after them. An immense sum of money is contained in « trunk screwed on behind—he who restores it to me uninjured and intact shalt receive 10,000 francs reward—therefore dispatch.” these words he set off at full gallop. leaving the burgomaster pale as his shirt, and staring after him in mute amazement. carriage the vantage of starti half an hour before him, and as Fernald his horse to a still faster pace he felt what « small chance he had of overtaking it, for althongh loaded so heavily two horses could certainly travel full as fast as one, but it was his only hope and he caught at it in despera- tion. Ale tore along at a frantic pace, hoping at each turn to see the carriage in the distance, but this hope deceived him constantly. He met a couple of lumber wagons and some foot passengers from time to time; he aaked them eagerly if they had scenacarringe pass; they would “Yes, half an hour ago.” Presently he met two horves ail harnessed, which browsed by the wayside, He looked at them earnestly. Surely they were the same that brought him here; but where was their driver— the man with the scar? He should be back in the city by this time. How did the horses come here? He too must be in the plot, and had probably ridden on. met the new postilion and let his horses go. Yes, he was convinced this must be the case,and so much the worse, for he had now to deal with three conspirators instend of two, and he remembered, with a thrill, that his pistols were left in the and were now, no doubt, in the hands of the villains, A wild rage overcame him as he thought how completely he had been deceived andentrapped by the woman in whom he had felt such confi- dence. By his folly, his weakness, he had lost the money iutrusted to Lim, and with it hie honor and reputation! Oh, bow willingly would he have given his lite’ to recover these lost treasures! “He whipped and spurred his weary steed unmereifully, who now to slacken his pace and breathed painfully. The poor animal ran up hill and down hill; the dust and gravel flew; butall in vain. Nothing was in sight. As he made a sharp turn full a mile of the highway stretched before him, but noth- ing was to be seen on any part of it. At this mo- ment the worn-out horse stumbled and feil; Fernald reised him, but he could hardly stand, and after going feebly a few steps fell again, and did not attempt to rise. Fernald found his left leg was under the creature's body; he drew it out, bruised but un- injured; as for the pain of the limb, he did not feel it, for he could have wept fromeheer de- spair. He sat on the gronnd by the side of his fallen horse, who lay covered with sweat and foam, uttering from time to time a low whin He looked at the animal. and, covering his face and hands, murmured brokenly, “Now all is lost!” Presently he looked back toward the town. Was no one coming to assist him? Did nobody care for the reward? No! not a man appeared in all the dreary distance. Fernald did not dare to give up the pursuit. He resolved to go on foot to the next station, and,as he rose to shake the dust from his clothes, he saw at the top of an extremely dis- tant hill two horses’ heads, An involuntary impulse forced him to look at them. Nowa caleche appeared behind them: how mach it looked ike his caleche—the horses began to trot rapidly toward him—they came nearer; he rubbed his eyes and believed himecif dreaming, for Lippman sat upon the box and swung the whip carelessly from side to side. As he caught sight of Fernald he nodded gayly avd soon drew up before the amazed and overjoyed man, “Here are your carriage and your trunk all safe, Mr. Fernald,” he cried, springing from the box. “Heaven be praised thee t have been able to eave it for yout? “You—vou saved it?” said Fernald, breath- lessly, feeling as if a sentence of death had been remitted. “A lucky chance enabled me to spoil the fine | plans of those two knaves,” replied the youth, “while you and my sis—that is, my mistress— “T know that Madam Bernard is your sister —she told me so.” “I see you know everything. Well, while you two sat at dinner I thought I would stroll about the town alittle. As I stood looking at the ancient carving on the gateway I heard the sacneared = of horses’ feet approaching ith great ray ity. recognized our carriage directly and at first it the horses were running away; but then of course the coach- man would not whip them so severely. Sud- denly the trunk occurred tome. I concealed aoe 18; i EER in the shadow of the gateway, and as the | ery, that the purport of your note?” cried Fernald. Without waiting for an answer he | continued: “Nevertheless, I hardly dare to come into your sister's presence.” piiObh bo!” said “What's the trou- le" “I will tell yoy that you can see what a posi- tion Iam in.” I believed awhile ago that you | and your sister had conspired together to rob and cheat me.” " said the youth, frown- hate and despise myself for it; but it is | “Then one of us must shoot the other,” said Dorneck soberly. } “The pistols are in the carriage. I will give you satisfaction if yon demand it.” “My sister is very fond of me andcares a little for you, so that would not mend the matter,” | said the student in a fitof laughter. “It is best not to take it too tragically. A man who bas charge of half s million may weil be suspicious. [have never been in such a predicament and trust I never shall be: but after due considera tion I pardon you.” “That is noble and generous of you, but— your sister? “As vou have confessed your fault so openly tome, I promise not to tell ber anything about it.” “But I was so angry and excited that I told her myself.” cE! that was a false =e” “Now you see how y Lam.” Nonecnee! vou have Four saoney again; that is the principal thing.” “Not at rll; no money could console me for the treasure I have lost.” Dorneck threw a keen glance at him. In the despair which Fernald’s features so plainly showed there seemed to be something that amused him. “Let us hope for the best,” he said finally, with a roguish smile. “I think if you fail that I can assist you even at the worst.” A rider just t) bad just dis They told him of the adventure, and sent him in search of the wounded man. At st they reached the town. Fernald’s beart beat high as he alighted at the gate, where the hostess and burgomaster stood, sur- rounded by a gaping crowd, towhom they were explaming what the reward was and bow they aught obtain it. They were excessively sur- rised tosee the carriage return, and asked a Eundred questions, which Fernald cat short, | and. after asking the burgomaster for an armed guard for the carriage, he promised to rej to him shortly with Dorneck. a “Heaven protect me if am to appear before the government officials,” whispered the latter. “Never mind,” replied Fernald, “I will be | security for you—now for your sister.” | Ma von Bernard had gone to her room ina state of agitation perfectly indescribable, and going to the window had seen their retarn. | She now flew to meet them and threw herself into her brother's arma, “Oh, Leonard! Leonard!” she cried, ing, “what have ¥ suffered on your account!” Dorneck disengaged himeelt gently from her, and leading her back into ber room said, as be beckoned Fernald to follow: “Dear Frida. I truly believe you have been in great distress, but it is all over now that we | three are together again; but here is one whose grief is far grenter, for hg feels he does not de- serve his good fortune, since he has insulted you unpardonably.” me grew pale and was about to turn away, but her brotherseized her hand and said: | “However unpardonable it was still you must | forgive him, Frida; nothing else will do. For 1 | can assure you most solemuiy that the recovery | of half a million of money did not console him for the loss of your favor. I think one should forgive such repentance as that proves!” Mme. Bernard looked with a smile at her | handsome brother and then shyly at Fernuld, who, at this captivating glance, fell upon his knees and raised her hand to his lips. “Ob, do not let me suffer all my life for the fault of one evil moment" he cried fervently. | “You have wounded me deeply,” she replied, | hesitatingly, “but if my brother ‘peaks truly shall be obliged to pardon you and make peace. So rise and tell me all that has happened. since added you left me in so different a way,” she “You restore life to me,” said Fernald, | archiy. ig to his feet. “Let your brother tell you about the rescue, which he alone and unaided formed, and in the meantime I will see that all cause for anxiety about him ee eee hm dha gl eon “Cy “ you » While Dorneck rel > this im- | form that | yard and the butier hed to go saperior way. “Charlotte,” he maid, ‘you give me severe pains. Do you not perceive that we shall our- selves consume this corn in the sbape of chicken meat. This process simply meane that we get #0 many extra pounds of chicken for the price of so many pounds of grain.’ “Lassented, of course. There was nothing else to do. It wad necessary to bave some place to keep the chickens in and for this purpose nv husband bad discovered that a coop of boards could easily be constructed agninst the back of the house. The boards cost #2 and the labor of acolored wan whom we employed te build the structure came to as much more. I ven- tured to remark that this was pot a very cheap way of buying fowls,but Mr. Tomkyns withered we up by asking me if it bad not occurred to me that the same house would do for any number of chickens in the future. “«+Women never can see more than six inches oud the ends of their noses, he declared. I did not attempt to dispute that pro tion. Long ago I gave up contending with m! husband that women were of any practical use in this world except to take charge of the nursery. So the chickens were installed im the hovse built for them and all was supposed to be well. That was just before the recent very cold snap. On the next evening the thermom- eter went down nearly to zero and 1 expressed my fears that the chickens would be frozen. “‘Thave been thinking of thet,” said Mr, Tomkyns, laving down his pipe. “We will put them in the cellar for the night “I pleaded that { did not whnt the chickens in my nice clean cellar, but it was no use. My husband asked me if I was willing to let them freeze, remarking incidentally that unthi cruelty was expecially a feminine attribute, course T abandoned the discussion at once. Mr. Tomkyns and the butler carried the fowls into the cellar two by two, one under each arm. If it had been fer that night only I would not have minded very much. but the cold «pell com tinued, and the same performance had to be repeated every evening for about a fortnight, Meanwhile I had suggested that it would be @ good plan to kill them for the table, but my husband insisted that circumstances lad beem unfavorable to fattening them, owing to the severity of the weather. He thought that i would be better to keep them a while longer. The supply of corn having been exhausted be purchased some more. ‘As fof the rooster, which J would gladly have got rid of on account of ite crowing, my husband insisted that he must be kept until the lnst, because he was such an interesting bird. By ‘this time my children also had taken © fancy to the chickens, which they regularly fed. They all bad names. There was Susy, and Jenny and Nelly, and Betty, and Bessie, and the cock’s name was Sam. Notwithstand- ing the precautions taken to protect them they all got bad colds. and Mr. Tomkyns called upon me to admimster medical trest- ment. ‘This meant that I was obliged to poke an asafetida pill down the throat of each one of them every night after they had gone to roost. I told the cook that they were certainly fat enough by this time to be killed, but them the question arose as to who was going to per operation. The butler ssid he wouldn't and the cook said that she couldn't, My children wept when the notion was eug- gested, and so I began to perceive that these drendfal chickens were going to become a per= manent afftictio: “Yesterday afternoon they escaped from the t and shoo them in again, ‘One of the hens flew up on to the roof over the kiteen, which ix only one story high, and the others, togetber with the rooster, foliowed her example. Then the roblem was bow to get them down again, rhness was coming on and they had evidenuy made up their minds to stay there and roost, Mr. Tomkyns declared that the only practicable plan was to go out on the roof with « long stiok and drive them into the windo my bed room, which look out over tbe roof. This, notwithstanding a vigorous protest from me, war carried into execution, and the chickens hopped in one after another. After they had been chased around the house for some time and finally captured exch of them had to bave one of its wings cut in order that euch high flying could not occur again, and finally they were all put down in the cellar, because the night 1 to be very cold, From the crowing which we just beard I judge that Sam has found bis way to his roost at an unusually early hour. For my own part I have become resignes and Mr. Jomkyns tries to console me by assuring me that our hens will lay some eggs in the spring. 1 wish they would do i now when eggs cost 45 ceuts« dozen in the market.” a A Case of Hurrah, An uptown young than, who is very erratic Tee a bos. Tm going te jeaver every! hurrahed.— Detroit Mr. Yorben,