Evening Star Newspaper, January 25, 1896, Page 19

A PRIZE WINNER ~ "BY FLORENCE WARDEN AVTHOR OF THE HOUSE ON THE MARSH (opyright, 1896, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) IR ALEXANDER Auchlean had a first- class carriage all to himself on the rail- way from Aberdeen’ to Ballater, but a gloomy day for his journey. He was a tall and = stalwart Scotchman of about eight-and-thirty, not aggressively high as to cheekbone and long as to lip, but with @ face more canny than kind, and a straight cold mouth which had particular terrors for the people who displeased him. Something or somebody had displeased him now; and he looked positively forbid- ding as he marched up and down in the Hmited space at his command, uttering a subdued imprecation when the oscillation of the carriage caused him to fall into one or other of the seats, and then resuming his difficult promenade as before. As a general rule he loved the beautiful view which is to be seen on both sides of the line, the hcather changing color on the hills, the peeps at the rushing Dee. He was born and bred not many miles from Eal; later, and it was to his seat among the Aberdeenshire hills, the house in which he was born ard in which he hoped to die, that he was new returning, after a visit to the royal agricultural show down in the un- congenial south. He was entirely unattended, as it was his Pleasure to be in a mood such as he was in at the time. When the train reached the Bal- later terminal he sprang out upon the plat- form with his bag in his hand and his rug on his arm; and refusing all offers of as- sistance and snapping out that he had no “luggage,” he strode through the little station and along the road toward Craigen- darroch, the “hill of the oaks," which dom- inates the highland village. Leaving the hill on his right, a walk of about a mile along a gradually ascending wood brought Sir Alexander to the foot of @ hill, which he proceeded to climb. About half way up, on a small rugged plateau cov- ered with heather and short, rough grass, he came to a rude dwelling which had evi- dently been a couple of laborers’ cottages, but which had been transformed by him in- to a useful shelter or halting place for the journeys of himself and his household to and from Kechleen lodge, which was seven miles from a railway station, and conse- quently “off the map.” The cottage was kept in order by an old Servant of the family, who had been known so long as “Jock” that he had almost for- gotten any other name. He had been head gamekeeper in his time, and a general nui- Sance by reason of the liberties he took. So that when failing eyesight compelled him to give up his post, and he and his old wife settled, by their own choice, in a hut ad- joining the cottage among the hills, nobody regretted him but Sir Alexander, who found something piquant in the utterances of the eld tongue that dared to coftradict him. And he often spent an hour with the erabbed old fellow, going out of his way, when shooting on the moors, to rest with his gum on a wooden chair beside the smoldering, fragrant peat fire. It was months since he had been there last, and when Sir Alexander, wet through to the skin with the Scotch mist, which Was enshrouding -all the hills, from Loch- na-ga™ on the one side to Culbleen on the other, knecked sharply at the locked door of the hut, it was opened by Jock with an air of dignified astonishment. “I didna th to see ye hereaboots for said he, morosely, as he er’s bag and rug and made enter.e Sir Alexander frowned as he pulled off his gloves, and nodding to Mrs. “Jock,” who was deaf, and who curtseyed and said mothing after her wont, took his accus- tomed seat by the peat fire, which hardly threv out enough light or warmth to raise & man’s spirits on this cheerless evening. fers on your way to the hoose, sir?’ inquired Jock, after a minute’s silence, dur- ag which he eyed Sir Alexander with cold digni “Yes, but I think I shall stay at the cot- tage tonight. I’m not in the mood for that lonely seven miles on a-wet road. Every- thing’s ready, I suppose?” “Ok, aye, as near ready as may be,” re- Plied Jock, discontentedly. “Auld Fan or myself will ha’ to go down to the village to get something to eat—” vo, n>; I'll take my you've got for yourselves. I’m not in the mood for eating,” interrupted his master. Jock looked at him narrowly, with a sus- Picious eye, and Sir Alexander glanced up. “T'm in the blues, Jock.” ‘So I see, sir.” “Confound it, man, don’t treat me like that, as if your eyes would drop out of your head!” cried his master, noting sud- Genly the fixity of the gaze which the old keeper had fastened upon him. “It’s not @ matter of life or death. But—but I've lost the first prize at the cattle show for my short-horns—had it cafried off under my very nose by a miserable Southron who— Ah, well, if it had been a fair award I shouldn’t have minded. But mine were the best. Everybody on the ground who knéw a cow from a custard cup said go. It was unfair, absolutely unfair.” And Sir Alexander, whose short-horns were to him as the breath of his nostrils, and who prided himself on being the most successful breeder in the kingdom, got up from his chair and began to pace up and down the stcne-flagged floor. “Short-horns!” ejaculated Jock, with an odd inflection; and then, after a pause, he sald again, in a ruminating tone: “Short- horn: Oh—aye!”" “3 the matter with you?” asked Sir irritably, noticing a peculiarity the old man’s tone. “Naething, naethi sir,” answered the eld fellow, dryly. “I was thinking yer trouble was maybe about a different sort 0’ tattle, that’s a’, sir.” . And before his master could ask him another question Jock had disappeared through the back door of the hut on his way to the cottage. Sir Alexander was half inclined to go after him and insist upon an explanation of iis mystericus words and manner. But, re- flecting that it was only some whim of Jee! he changed his mind and gave him- seif up again to the wrathful meditations which had occupied him ever since the Judges’ decision at the show. He had been wounded in the most—per- haps the only—vulnerable part. For his short-horns he neglected society, his duties as a landlord, his duties as a husband. Three years before he had married a young beauty, temporarily fascinated by a freshness and charm which did not, in the long run, out- Pi the solid attractions of his prize cat- le. Sir Alexander now left Lady Auchlean chiefly to her own devices, and never doubt- that, in providing her with a house in ver street and a mansion in the high- lands, as well as a handsome allowance of Pocket money, he had done as much for her as a woman had a right to expect. * And it was safe to say that no one tn th whole world was further from his thoughts share of what than his wife was when Jock came to tell bim that the cottage was ready; and the baronet, beginning to feel rather tired and stiff after the Journey and the excitement of the dey, entered the long, narrow roo! which had been made by throwing the liv- ing rooms of the two cottages into one, and threw himself on the chintz-covered couch @ little way from the fire. You came straight into this room from the open air, without any sort of passage or anteroom; so a screen had been placed round the door to keep the draught out. The sofa on which Sir Alexander lay was he- tween this screen and the fire, right under the latticed window, the curtains of which were not drawn. Z “Don’t light up yet, my eyes ache,” cried he, as Jock was preparing to light a couple of candles. “Vara weel, sir.” Joek was less cantankerous, but more taciturn than usual that evening, his master thought, as he watched him out, and then overcome by the drowsihess induced by fa- tigue and comfort and warmth, he closed his eyes and fell into a sort of doze. He was presently aroused by the sh: click of the latch as it was hurriedly rai and, opening his eyes with a start, he jump- Her ed up just as a woman's voice whispered at the other side of the screen this one word: “Harry!” And he recognized the voice as that of his wife. Startling, absolutely unexpected as this incident was, Sir Alexander reaiiz2d in a moment what it meant, ard even knew, who the person wag she believed herself to be addressing. A certain handsome, but impecunious young so dier, Capt. Tenterden, to whom she had scarcely been allowed to speak in her maiden days, had become, since her mar- riage, the tame cat of the household, de- spised by the husband as a mere trifler, and apparently looked upon by the wife only as a runner of errands, and filler-up of gaps at the dinner table. In an instant the truth flashed upon Sir Alexander, and at the same moment, or only a little later, the significance of Jock's enigmatic looks and words burst upon him. Capt. Tenterden was his wife’s lover, this was the guilty meeting place. Even in the first moment of the unspeak- able horror, perhaps.petrified by the awful discovery, the baronet had the presence of mind to remain quite still, quite silent. Then, as Lady Auchlean pushed forward one leaf of the screen, and came slowly, timidly forward in the darkness, he stepped round the head of the couch, and siipped behind the screen at one end, as she came reund it at the other. And as she had left the door open, he able to get out without nolse into the open air. Dusk was come, and the mist was thicker than ever. Sir Alexander shivered and staggered against the cottage wall. Why had he slunk out? Why had he not confronted her? Accused, confounded her? He did not himself know, he did not under- stand why he shrank from coming face to face with this woman, his wife, whom he had—well, yes, trusted, and who had dis- honored him in secret in spite of his trust, He only knew that an insurmountable re- | pugnance to meeting her, to looking vpon her face in the new, horrible circumstances had gripped him and held him like a But he struggled with himself, pulied self together, and rushed at the door of the hut, which he pushed quickly open. Jock seemed to have been waiting for him. He stared at his master. By a great effort Sir Alexander, while he could not dissemble the pallor of his face, managed to control his voice. “Lady Anuchlean has com2—is inside the cottage,” he said in a perfectly dry, calm ‘ell her I am here, and will see m as I have made myself pre- ” said Jock, and he disappeared Ikke a mechanicai doll, leaving his master in doubt whether he ought not to have flown at the man’s throat. For he knew something—must know some- thing—had connived, perhaps— Sir Alexander, as the thought seized and goaded him, dashed out of the hut and pre- sented himself inside the cottage so quickly that Jock had only just time to give his message, and Lady Auchlean was still suf- fering from the paroxysm of terror into which it had thrown her. Her husband, appearing suddenly before Pl ve tea here—with PART IL. He saw that her face blanched. “All right,” she said, after a moment’s pause. “I'll go and tell Mrs. Jock.” “No,” said her husband, quietly, as he again signed her to sit down. “There's noneed. I can tell her from the door.” “But she is deaf!” objected Lady Auch- lean, who seemed to be growing suspicious in her turn. Sir Alexander, for all answer, shut him- self outside the cottage, but kept close to the door. Jock was there, looking more wooden than ever. “Jock, you d—d rascal!” called Sir Alex- ander, in a low voice. Jock came forward obediently, without moving a muscle of his face. “If you interfere, or if your wife inter- feres to warn or to stop any one who may be comi to the cottage, I'll put a bullet through the pair-o’ ye. Get us some tea and then get back to your cottage, and stay there til] I call you.’ “Oh, aye, sir,” said Joc! and disappeared into his own dwelling like @ clockwork figure. Sir Alexander re-entered the cottage, where he found his wife looking more dead than alive. Although she was sitting in the chair in which he had left her, he guessed that she had been trying the in. ner door of the room. This was, however, Kept locked, as he knew, except when thi house was in regular use. He went over to the fireplace and stood with one foot on the high brass fender, fur- tively watching her. She seemed to be dazed, like a bird that one catches half dead with fright in a chimney, that lies in @ ruffled heap in one’s hand. He tried to talk to her about trivial mat- ters, told her some small details of nis jour- ney, which she answered with feeble com- ments. He told her of his ill success with the show cattle. At that she smiled faintly. “That must have gone near to breaking your heart—or as near as anything can,” said she, rather bitterly. Her husband moved uneasily. Even in the anxiety from which he was suffering, something of self-reproach stung him. thought,” she went on, with a little more spirit, perhaps a little more hope, “that something had happened to upset you. That was it, of course.” Sir Alexander looked at her, and felt more uncomfortable than ever. There was some shadow of an excuse for her bitter- ness, perhaps. She was really a very Pretty woman, and pretty women are vain, and expect a good deal of attention. This she had not had from him, certainly. f you wish to imply, Mary,” said he, earnestly, ‘that nothing but what concerns my shorthorns has power to disturb my Peace of mind, you are mistaken, wrong. Anything which affected you, for instance, would trouble me much more.” “Oh, but I don’t think so! You could find another wife tomorrow, you know, if —if anything were to happen to me. But if you were to lose Durham the Third, why, you would be inconsolable. It would take you a long time to find another ani- mal you could be as proud of.” “And do you think I am not proud of you?” h, in a sort of way I suppose you are, certainly. I look all right in those old high-backed chairs, I believe, and people don’t look less at the family jewels be- cause they are on me.” “You are very bitter today. You have never spoken to me like this before!” “What chance do I ever have of talking to you, at all? Not that I want to com- plain,” and her tone changed suddenly. “You can’t help yourself, of course. We can none of us help our temperament. We all have to go on just the best way we can, and it is of no use to grumble, be- cause nothing ever comes out quite right in_this world.” She spoke in a subdued voice, but with much bitterness. Her husband was star- ing at her newly opened eyes, and was on the point of making some reply, when Mrs. Jock came in with the tea. Lady Auchlean jumped up quickly and selzed the teapot. She was bent on hurry- ing through the proceedings, alleging that she was afraid the night would be a wet one, and that she wanted to get home be- fore the rain began. “If ycu are afraid of that,” said her hesband, “we can send Jock for the car- riage. “Oh, no, don’t do that. We can make haste cver this tea. I shall enjoy the walk.” She kept glancing out through the win- dow, opposite to which she sat. Sir Alex- ander jumped up and drew the curtain. “It looks cheerless out there,”’ he said. “We will shut out the prospect till we have to face it of necessity.” And he sat down again. Lady Auchlean, in whose blue eyes a strange fire was burning, played with her teaspoon, but said nothing. She was wait- ing, listening. Both husband and wife were constrained, silent, oppressed by the knowl- edge of what was coming. It came. There was a sharp rap at the door, and Lady Auchlean sprang to her feet. Then the door opened, and pushing away the screen, a handsome young fellow of five or six-and-twenty burst into the room. ‘He saw no one but the lady, and he came straight toward her with an alacrity which was damning indeed. “Capt. Tenterden! why, what has brought you here? Alexander, isn’t this an odd co- incidence?” cried Lady Auchlean, before he could get across the room. The young man started, stopped short, turned, saw Sir Alexander and held out his hand, reddening very much. But the baronet, who was standing In an attitude of great stiffness, did not respond to the greeting. “A very odd coincidence,” said he, dryly. “T should like a few words with you, Capt. Tenterden. And he strode out of the cottage. Capt. Tenterden would have lingered a moment to ask an explanation from Lady Auchlean, but she, wiser than he, shook her head and signed for him to follow at once. : her, was struck by her appearance, by her startling beauty, as if she had been a stranger. She had lit the candles, two on the table and two on the high, narrow shelf ever the fireplace, and in their flickering light the diamonds In her ofa sparkied, and her blue eyes shone, and her fair hair, dis- ordered by the wind, made a sort of hazy cloud about her head and face. She had taken off her hat, which she held in her hands, and had loosened the tweed jacket she was wearing. And Sir Alexander, looking at his wife with new and startled eyes, realized for the first time that, though there fs many a wife in the world who may be neglected, his wife Was not the sort of woman to be neglected long. The question was how far had she gone? Not jealous of his wife's love, but of his own honor, he trembled for the answer to this question. How many meetings had there been in this lonely cottage among the hills? One or two, perhaps—perhaps a dozen. He must control himself, and pres- ently he would know all. The lover would come and then the truth would be out, and the guilty pair would be at his mercy. And then for the divorce court, Auchlean vs. @uchlean. Sir Alexander, in a sort of walking nightmare, saw It all before him— scandal, worry, disgrace. Meanwhile, the hesitating manner in which he stood, his silence, his inquiring face, put ideas into her subtle feminine Alexander, surely it isn’t you? you? I feel as if it must be your ghost! I thought you were in Buckingham- shire?” She laughed, perhaps rather hysterically, and came round the table, close to him. He did not offer to touch her, though she smiled invitingly up in his face. Jock, with his eyes in front of him, had iaken himself off dumbly “I was in Buckinghamshire this morning,” answered Sir Alexander, stiffly. “But I’ve come back, as you see. And what—what are you doing here?” He tried to speak unsuspiciously, not wishing to spofl his later effect. She turned to a Turkish mirror which hung on the wall opposite to the window, and began to but- ton up her coat. “I came over for a walk; and I want to ask Mrs. Jock to make me a cup of tea. But I don’t think I'll wait for that now, it’s grown so dark,” she added, putting on her hat quickly, and then coming rapidly round to the door. “‘Aren’t you coming with me?’ and she looked at him with a smile which at any other time he would have thought winning. “It isn’t very often, you know, that I get my husband for an escort.” Sir Alexander was taken aback. Did she mean to reproach him? or was. this merely impudence, the effrontery of a brazen wo- man? He stammered as he tried to answer. He was bew! did not know what to say. But he st between her and the door, and did not move for her pass out. The thought which was in his mind, struggling with certain new impressions of his wife, Outside the cottage, on the little table- land, with the mists of the mountains all around them, the two men met. Sir Alex- ander was dignified, abrupt and stern. “Answer me at once without lies, “How often have you met my wife here?” “Never before, people here?” “And you arrived tonight? It was an ac- cident, I suppose,”’ said Sir Alexander, with cutting mockery. Capt. Tenterden hesitated. In an instant on my honor. Ask the The husband bad him by the throat. the husband had him by the throat; pinion- ing him against the wall of the cottage. “Answer me, answer me. Tell me the truth, or, by , I'll throw you down the bill! The truth, mind, the truth!” A hoarse voice spoke in Sir Alexander's ear, and he felt his wife’s hand clutching at his shoulders. “You shall hear the truth, the whole truth. Let him go!” There was in Lady Auchlean’s voice such a deep ring of earnestness, of sincerity, that her husband was struck by it in the height of his passion of resentment. He released his hold of Capt. Tenterden, and his wife quickly took advantage of this to -seize one of her husband’s hands in both he ers. “Harry,” said she, in a clear, firm voice, “you had better go. I can tell him every- thing he wants to know; and if he wants to see pe etterward, why, I can tell him where you.” : The two men. were both aghast. What- ever in thelz own, nuinds. ther had foreseen as the y it of meeting, it was not such a as But Lady Auch. this. = was so quietly determined, so col- —oh, I wisb they ha* Jet me mar year, doesn’t want a wife at all- ge lected in the midst itement, that. they found snemnclved lekeite the matter in her hands. - “It is a very tion, sir,” sald aa peasant Y te offas qi ly. can.” e But Capt. ‘Tente: row himself up and turned his back upon the other man. “I have done no intentional-harm to you or to Auchlean, as you je always been only kind hospitality, ssi in too: happy to. by executing” any with a faint little will believe me, for going to tell him the truth.” A shade of- alar rossed the young man’s face. But he the hand she held out to him, gave it a quick, warm pressure, bowed coldly to Sir Alexander, who did not return the salutation, and started to go down the hillside. Lady Auchlean led the way back into the cottage, and her husband followed in a state of great bewilderment. He was struck again by the change in her manner from the fright and nervousness which had characterized it before the appearance of Capt. Tenterden. He looked at her with apparent coldness, but with some uncon- scious admiration. This dignified, proud- looking woman, with the slight air of recklessness which was noticeable in her manner, was more to his taste than the pretty, shy automatén he had considered his wife to be. “Well,” he said, Sharply, as soon as the se was shut, “‘let me hear your explana- tion.” = He did not attempt to disguise the fact, apparent in his tone and manner, that he was prepared to disbelieve every word. Lady Auchlean looked up. She had taken off her hat again, and the golden hair was again framing a cloud about her head. In her eyes there burned a steady light. “I was going to run away with him,” said she, quietly. Sir Alexander was struck dumb. None of his wildest suspicions had prepared him for such an avowel as this. He gasped, stared at her, and finally turned away to the fire. Lady Auchlean went on with her confession in a dreary, despairing tone. “It’s very terrible, isn’t it? Very shock- ing? That with all the money I have to spend, and the bills I'm allowed to run up, I should not be satisfied? That I can’t be happy without some one to care about me!’ “Don't—don’t I care about you?” stam- mered Sir Alexander, quite humbly. He was an honest, upright man himself, and he respected her for telling the truth, respected her at the bottom of his heart, far more than that. Her reply was very prompt, very cutting. “No; if you had cared about me, you would have seen what was coming. Every one else did. “What was coming?” Sir Alexander spun round again toward her. Why, then, have you, have you—” “I haven’t done anything. But I meant stammered her husband, in unsteady voice, “‘let us look upon my com- ing in here tonight as a special interven- tion cf Providence, to save you trom— from—" “From being happy with a man who would nave been kind to me!” burst out Lady Auchlean, a3 she gave way at tast to hysterical sobbing. *Oh, yes, I know I am shocking you; I know you think me terri- bly wicked, but I don’t care. I’ve got to live out my life, ‘my wretched, miserable, lone- ly Ife with for I shall never have the courage to try and gat away again, and I suppose you wil]. shut me up altoxether now—and so, foryonce, I'll speak out my thouz t driving all by my: self up for nobody to see me. And I wish y some poor clerk at a bank with four hundred a rather than tie me to a man who 9 only wants his pr-pri-prize cows and—and sheep—and— and pigs Now, Sir Alexander was by mo means the statue the poor little lady believed him to be. He had indcéd figured tn a terri! romance, In which he, then a young man of only two and twen had been the vic- tim of a designing and heartless woman. It was the scar from that wound which made him close his own heart, and say to himself that he would never again let a woman gain an ascendancy over him. The discovery that he in his turn had made a victim through thi3 act of selfish Giscretion moved him greatly. It woke in him the echoes of old thoughts, old feel- ings. It softened, it unmanne: His wife was sobbing with the sofa cushions. Suddenly she felt her- selt in the grip of a strong arm; a hand was laid quite tenderly on her silky hair. “Mary, will you try and forgive me if I treat you better?” asked her husband, in a shy voice. She left off sobbing, and turned an as- tonished, still fearful face toward »im. “Treat me—’ whispered she, ‘‘as well as the pigs?’ “Just as well,” he whispered, with a smile which had something new in it. She sat up. She looked at him inquisi- tively. “I wonder,” said she, at last, “whether this Is only a ruse to get me away quietly? For you must have been shocked, sur- prised, angry!’ “So angr: answered Sir Alexander, “that I can’t trust myself to scold you. I might say words you would never for- Lady Auchlean looked long and stead- ily in his face. Then a deep blush came suddenly into her cheeks, and she slid down to her knees beside him on the floor. “Oh, if you only mean it—if you will only sometimes look at me like that, speak to me like that—if you will only remember that I'm & weman, and not a doll, to be dressed up to look pretty, and to be kept under a glass case and never—t—touched! Oh, if you'll only do that you never need be afraid of my behaving badly; indeéd, you need not. I’m not wicked, really; I’m really, really not. I’ve never done any wrong to you, and if I had thought you would care, I never should have thought of—of—oh, oh, I am ashamed of myself! I don’t know what you must think of me in your heart!” “Well, I'll tell you,” and Sir Alexander raised her from the floor and seated her on the sofa and sat down beside her, “I think you sillier than I had thought; but I don’t krow that I like you the less on that ac- count. I see that you can’t be treated so well as I believed.” “Oh, don’t say that “And so I shall Nave ;to look after you more. I shall have; to. dance attendance vpon you, I suppose! ingtead of passing so much time at the rm,,I shall have, in short, to be a moreaiténtive husband if I want to keep my wife.” ’., “Oh, don’t say that! dga’t, don’t! If you krow how wicked yéu make me feel! And I—I can’t understand it, You've always seemed so cold! Aré you:sure you won't be just the same again When you get me well, you must, tak# your chance of In spite of his wofds, lady Auchlean did feel comforted. Shg didnot yet love her husband, but she ‘jas. contrite, hurhble, grateful for his fofgivéhess, his forbear- ance, and thoroughly ashamed of the es- capade, which had"so yearly had fatally serious consequences. Sir Alexander went tothe hut to send Jock for a carriagé, ag the weather had changed for the worSe, atid the Scotch mist had given place to heavy rain. There was a shrewd look in the old man’s eyes, and even Mrs. Jock glanced at him with fur- tive interest. He felt sure that the pair had seen and heard something of the re- cent occurrences, Z “Jock, you rascal,” said Sir Alexander, as he followed -the old man out of the hut, “you've been in somebody’s confidence - ly, I suppose; not in mine.’ said Jock, stolidly, “I’ve been in naebody’s confidence but my old wo- man’s.” i “But you knew that there was to be a Booting at ee cottage? It’s af no use to man!” “I thoct there would be when I saw my lady come. It seem probable that she’d come to meet her husband, since he’s maistly awa’.”” ‘ “She had been here before, then?” said “You had better take your- | SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. : 7 SOOSSOSS OSS SSSS' @ @ 2 @ o @ 3 3 o @ Q : o @ 2 @ @ 2 2 S has done so for @Se © 6SCS8 s0ttlebimding so0ttlebmdime You can’t judge of the quality of a book by the binding, nor tell the contents by the title. You look for the name of the author before you buy the book. The name of Robert Louis Stevenson, for instance, on the back guarantees the inside of the book, whatever the outside may be. There’s a parallel between books and bottles. The binding or wrapper of a bottle is no guide to the quality of the medicine the bottle contains. The title on the bottle is no warrant for confidence in the contents. It all depends on the author’s name. Never mind who made the bottle. Who made the medicine? That’s the question. Think of this when buying Sarsaparilla. It isn’t the binding of the bottle or the name of the medicine that you’re to goby. That’s only printer’s ink and paper! medicine? What’s the author’s name? When you see Ayer’s nameon a Sarsaparilla bottle, that’s enough. The name Ayer guarantees the best, and The question is, §0 years. Still have doubts? Send for the “Curebook.”: It kills doubts and cures doubters. J. C. Ayer Co., Lowell, Mass. 5 OEE SSCCS BOOSH SSO99S66 89608068 660009 who made the Sir Alexander, trying to hide the fact that he was suspicious. : “Nae, sir, never before. My lady’s been always by hersel’ when I’ve met her, seem- ing lanesome, I thoct. But it’s not in the nature of leddies as handsome aa she to be lanesome long, sir. I could ha’ tellt ye that, if ye'd speered.”” Sir Alexander turned away and went into the cottage, too angry to speak without betraying himself. He found, however, in his wife’s newly discovered charm, in her half childlike penitence and pretty hu- mility, matter to divert his thought. When the carriage arrived and Lady Auchlean and her husband began the de- scent of the hillside to meet it, she lean- ing on his arm, old Jock watched them stolidly from the window of the hut and then turned to his wife with a dry chuckle. “I thought there’d be a flare-up some day,” said ho, “and so there has been, or my name’s no’ Jock. But if Sir Alexander learnt that there’s a sort o’ cattle aboot that is better worth looking after than his short-horns, maybe he'll get hame a prize-winner after a’.” (The end.) John Doe Compelied to Serve. From the Chicago Inter-Ocean. “John Doe, stand up and be sworn,” com- manded the clerk in Judge Ball’s court dur- ing the program of the examination of veniremen for the Andrew Sandberg mur- der trial the other day. The pronuncia- tion of the familiar name caused a smile to flit across the faces of the court and his officers. It was explained that “John Doe” was one N. Berthel of 595 Wells street, who steadfastiy refused to expose his name to Deputy Sheriff Biedenweg when the latter called at his home to subpeena him for jury service. But the deputy sheriff was not to be so easily beaten out of his prey, and informed Mr. Berthel that if he re- fused to give out his rame he would find a new one for him, and, suiting the action to the word, Mr. Biedenweg filled out a subpoe1a blank, substituting John Doe, and served the instrumcnt upon the obstinate man. “John Doe” appeared in court yes- terday afternoon and was obliged, at the last moment, to fill the iast vacancy in the box and r2main over night under the su- pervision of an officer of the criminal court. Bride’s Veil on Fire at the Altar. From the Chicago Chronicle. Mrs. Mary Coleman Barnidge, who was married a few Gays ago in St. Louis, is wondering if there is anything in’ the old saying that if a bride's clothing catches fire at the altar, without resulting in bodily injury to the wearer, she will “live happily ever after.” She is the daughter of Dr. Edward E. Coleman of 4168 Manchester avenue, and was married.to Frank J. Bar- nidge, at St. Cronin’s Church, St. Louis. Just at the conclusion of the mass which followed the marriage ceremony the bride’s veil of white tulle, which enveloped her whole figure, took fire from a lighted can- dle on the altar and burned up in a flash. Father O'Leary, who was conducting the ceremnonics, was at her side in an instant, and before any one could make a move he had torn the veil from her head and ex- tinguished the flames with his hands. The church was filled with relatives and friends and interested spectators. The blaze was of momentary duration, but as all eyes were turaed upon the bridal pair it was witnessed by nearly everybody in the ehurch, and it created a very exciting scene. ——__+e+—____ Live Art. From Harper's Bazar. “You really have no art development in America, have you?’ said the Englishman to the Chicago girl at Interlaken. ‘Why, certainly,” she replied. “Have you a Louvre, or a national gal- lery, or an Uffizi?” he asked. “Well—no, not exactly,” said she. “Fact is, we don’t bank much on the past, but our living pictures are out of sight.” Reta S ‘The Lady of the Manner.—Life. THE MAN HAD A BUM LAMP. A Term Which Was Not at First Un- derstood. From the Chicago Record. ~ Mr. Ellis overheard two men talking in the street car. “You know Dan,” said one. “Which is him?’ “The one with the bum lamp.” “Oh, yes. Say, did he always have that lamp?” “Ever since I knew him.” Mr. Ellis considered this the most extra- ordinary bit of conversation he had heard in many weeks. Here was a man identi- fied by his possession of a lamp, which he had owned for a considerable period. Did he carry the Jamp with him? And what in the world was a bum lamp? He asked Mr. Carthage at the office. “A bum lamp," repeated Mr. Carthage. “I don't know that I ever heard of one, although the inference would be, of course, that it is a-lamp owned by a bum, which is, I believe, a common synonym for tramp ol agabond.”” “Yes, but this man spoke as if it were a lamp that he had with him all the time.” At that moment a messenger boy came in. it he said?’ asked Mr. “What was Carthage. “He said his friend had a bum lamp and had owned it ever since he knew him.” “Wich one was bum?” asked the mes- senger boy. “Which what?” said Mr. Ellis, sharply. “Wich lamp?” “I don’t know that he had more than one.” “He must ’a’ had a right and a left to begin with.” “Right and left what?” “Lamps. Dem’s your eyes, you know— lamp: “And what {s a bum lamp?” asked Mr. Ellis, humbly. $8 that means a game eye, a bad one. Mr. Ellis was crushed. He waited until the boy went away with his message, and then he said: “Carthage, I'm afraid we're an ignorant lot. A bum lamp! Well, that beats anything I ever heard.” See Indinna’s Odd Sized Men. From the St. Louis Republic. The town of Ligonier, Noble county, Ind., claims the unique distirction of having for citizens the largest and smallest men, phy- sically considered, in the west. George Washington Walker is without question the heaviest man in Indiana, if not in the United States. He weighs 560 pounds, is now but forty-six years old, and is add- ing steadily to his weight at the rate of twenty-five pounds each year of his life. His waist measurement is seventy-six inch- es, chest under arms sixty-eight inches and arm twenty-five inches. He is in excellent health, but finds locomotion rather dim- cult, although he travels about in a spe- claily constructed: conveyance. He is the father of tw> bright children and lives a retired life, attempting to avoid much no- toriety. In’ the heated season he lived al- together in the cellar of his residence. Walker's physical antitype is Jesse Walk- er, his neighbor. The latter is nineteen ars of age and possesses a body of fair size. His legs, however, are only twelve inches in lergth. He is three feet three inches tall and weighs but fifty pounds. Jesse is a promising youth, mentally well equipped and as averse to notoriety as George Washington Walker. The two men have received flattering offers from mu- seum proprietors, but at present have no desire for that kind of fame. —s0-e— Sure to Make Moneys. From the Chicago Evening Post. “Great scheme!” he exclaimed, enthu- siastically. “I've found a neighborhood al- most entirely populated by anarchists.” “What of it?” “What of it! Why, I’m going to start a shooting gallery there. “Bah! Anarchists don’t shoot. They aim to do their work with bombs.” h, but they will shoot in my gallery.” ‘Why will they?” “Because I wili take pains to have tar- gets that are especially prepared for them. I will have the Czar of Russia in the mid- die, with the Emperor of Germany on one side of him and the Queen of England on the other. There will be half a dozen lesser monarchs around them, and a platoon of polica.on either side of the royal group, so that even the worst shot will be able to hit the image of something that he doesn’t _ Oh, I'll get every penny in the neigh- thood.”” ic DIODOSSOIO HS OG 9OHOHOOSSCOSHOOSODOSODDODOOOCECO HEARING IN ANIMALS. Peculiar Ways in Which the Lowe= Order of Beings Receive Sound. From the New York Post. Insects like grasshoppers, crickets and & custs have their ears in strange places— some on the middle of the body, others on the legs. Whatever other uses the crea- tures may also make of these organs, they are veritable auditory organs. In them we find a membrane stretched across a cavity, with an opening to the external air, and within the cavity is a nerve mass developed at the end of an auditory nerve. It would be hard, indeed, if the chirping cicada— “the cricket on the hearth”—and the queru- lous katydid could not be heard by thelt ccmpanions. It is said that those pests in the house—the flies—can hear by means of scme rows of corpuscles on the knobbed threads which represent the hind wings of other insects.’ It is uncertain whether tees can hear. If not, then all the labor of the old-fashioned beekeeper in beating a tin kettle at swarming time is in vain. Some naturalists who have tried them with every kind of sound and noise deny that they can hear. Others, equally confident, assert that they are very sensitive tp the calls of their queen at least. Some of the mollusks have very tfemarka- ble orgens for hearing. A good instance is the garden slug. In its neck you would see under a microscope a pair of globules filled with a clear fluid. In these are mi- nute ear stones, which swing to and fro, rotate and start off, first in one direction and then in another, but in no instance striking the walls of the cavity. If the globules are ruptured, the motions cease. A careful angler tells you not to talk while you are fishing. Probably a quiet ccnyersation will do no harm, but it must ke remembered that fishes have ears, al- thougn sounds from the air may not reach them. One of the oddest arrangements of all is found in some fishes. The air blad- der sends off fibers which are attached to membranes sjretched across cavities in the skull, and from these membranes the vi- brations of sound are conveyed to the air bladder. Such is the- case with the perch; while, more strange still, in the earp little bcres aid the transmission of sound. The ears of frogs and toads begin to ap- proach the type with which we are most familiar, and very effective ears they are, teo, for a pet toad I kept for several years would always come from his hiding place when I made a low hissing sound. Adders may be “deaf” or hard of ing, but reptiles are furnished with and among them the crocodile has rudiment of an outer ear. Birds, as every- body knows, can hear very readily, and the external cavity is easily found if the feath- ers on the side of the skull are raised. Any one fortunate enough to get hold of an owl may see a very remarkable open- ing leading to the drum, but the tuft of feathers which adorns the head on each side in some species cannot be regarded in any way analogous to our own folds cartilage. ——__+e- An Unfortunate Chap. From Truth. Checkerly—“Poor Algy! widly defawmed!” Defawmed?” “Yaas, poor boy; his eyes are 30 pwominent that he cawn’t wear a mone ocle!”" hear- eara, the He's so how Different With Him. From Pick-Me-Up, Visiting Curate—“Ah, my friend, should refiect cn the fact that we are today and gone tomorrow. ' Convict—“You may be; I ain't!”