Evening Star Newspaper, April 11, 1896, Page 20

. z ENINININING * LEN / S NOR ’ \ es 8 a PNENING SL a 260 e NANNY a ee Z (Contirued from Saturday, April 4.) SYNOPSIS. John Enderby, a squire of Lincolnshire, is offered a knighthood by King Charles the First, while the latter is in Boston on busi- ness. Enderby refuses the honor, on the ground that he cannot afford to pay the fee contingent to its acceptance. The king is very angry, as the fee is the main thing in- yolvel, and is encouraged in his displeasure by Lord Rippingdale, an old enemy of En- derby’s. Enderby persists in his refusal, and the king thereupon con‘iscates his es- tate. On the way home Enderby is warned by a stilt-walker of the fens to keep away frcm the king that night. Enderby suspects a plot against the king, and, still loyal, ralses a company and rides after him, arriving just in time to resctie the king and Lord Ripping- dale from a band of thieves, who had at- tacked their party. Enderby rides away. The king, although mollified by Enderby’s gallantry,declares that the knighthood must be accepted, and that then he will make En- derby a baron. Enderby reaches Enderby House and describes his experiences to his daughter Felicity. She supports him in his position, but his son, Garrett Enderby, while avowing loyalty to his father, ex- presses dissatisfaction at the refusal of the barony. Soon Lord Rippingdale arrives with the king’s troopers and sends in Sir John Mowbray as a messenger. The latter, an honorable young knight, seeing Enderby’s daughter, urges him for her sake to accept the king's ultimatum. Enderby refuses both Mowbray and Rippingdale, and the latter prepares to storm the house. Garrett En- derby displays a flag of truce,and his father, overwhelmed at his son’s disloyalty, sur- renders. All are placed under arrest, but Sir John Mowbray privately aids Enderby and Felicity to escape. PART Iv. Seven years went by before John Ender- by saw his son again or set foot in Ender- by House. Escaping to Holland on a nigat when everything was taken from him save his honor and his daughter, he had lived there with Mistress Felicity, taking service in the army of the country. Outlaw as he was, his estates given over to his son, who now carried a knighthood bestowed by King Charles, he was still a loyal subject to the dynasty which had dishonored him. When the king was be- headed at Whitehall he mourned and la- mented tae miserable crime with the best of his coun’ lo It was about this time that he journeyed irto France, and there he stayed with his daughter two years. Mistress Falkingham, her aunt, was with her, and watched over her as carefully as when she was a child in Enderby Heuse. About this time Cromwell, urged by solici- tous triends of the outlaw, sent word to him to return to England that he might em- ploy him in foreign service, if he did not care to serve in England itself. Cromwell's message was full of agreeable reflections upon his sufferings and upon the injustice that had been done to him by the late king. For nis ghter’s sake, who kad never ely happy out of England, En- returned, and was received with consideration by Cromwell at Whitehall. “Your son, sir.” said Cromwell, “hath been a follower of the man of sin. He was of these notorious people who cried out against the work of God’s servants wher Charles paid the penalty of his treason at Whitehall. Of late I have received news that he is of those sons of Belial who are intriguing to bring back the second Charles. Two days ago he was bidden to leave En- derby Hovse. If he be found among those who join the Scotch army to fight for the Pretender he shall bear the penalty of his offense.” “He has been ill advised, your highness,” said Enderby. “He shiil be advised better,” was the ly. “We will have peace in Eng- will, by the help of the Lord’s strong arm, rid this realm of these recalci- trant spir:ts. For you, sir, you shall return to your estate at Enderby, and we will use you abroad as opportunity shall occur. Your son has taken to himself the title which the man cf sin conferred upon you, to your un- doing.” : “Your Fighness,” replied Enderby, “I have but one desire, and that is peace. I have been outlawed from England so long, and my miseries have been so great, that I accept gladly what the justice of your highness gives thus freely. But I must tell your highness that I was no enemy of King Charles, and am no foe to his mem- ory. The wrong was done by him to me,+ and not returned by me to him, and the ts- sue is between our Maker and ourselves. But it is the pride of all Englishmen that England be well governed, and strong and important In the eyes of the nations; and all there things has your highness achieved. I will serve my country honorably abroad, or rest peacefully here on my own estate, lifting’ no hand egainst your highness, though I hold to the succession in the mon- archy.” Cromwell looked at him steadily and frowningly fer a minute; then presently, his face clearing, he said: “Your words, detached from your char- acter, sir, would be traitorous; but as we stand, two gentlemen of England face to face, they se2m to me like the words of an konest man, and I love honesty before all other things. Get to your home, sir. You Must not budge from it until I send for you. Then, as proof of your fidelity to the ruler of your country, you shall go on whatever mission I send you.” : “Your highness, I will do what seems my duty in the hour of your summons.” “You shall do the will of the Lord,” an- swered the Protector, and, bowing a fare- well, turned upon his heel. Enderby looked after him a moment, then and called. turned toward the door, and as he went out to mount his horse he muttered to himself: “The will of tke Lord as ordained by Oliver Cromwell—humph!”" "Then he rode away up through Trafalgar Square and into the Tottenham Court road, and so on out into the Shires until he came to Enderby House. Outside all was as he had left it seven years before, though the hedges were not so well kept and the grass longer before the kouse. An air of loneliness pervaded all the place. No one met him at the door. He rode round into the courtyard and called. A man servant came out. From him he learned that four of Cromwell’s soldiers Were quartered in the house, that all the old servants, Save two, were gone, and that two days before his son had been expelled from the place by Cromwell’s order. Inside the house there was change. Boon com- panions of the boisterous cavaliers as his son had been, the young man’s gay hours had been spent more away from Enderby House than in it. ‘When young Enderby was driven from his father’s house by Cromwell, he deter- mined to join the Scotch army, which was expected soon to welcome Charles the Sec- ond from-France. There he would be in ccntact with Lord Rippingdale and his majesty. When Cromwell was driven from Dis place, great honcrs might await him. Hearing in London, however, that his father had returned, and was gone on to the estate, he turred his horse about and Tode back again, traveling by night chiefly, and reached Enderby House four days af- ter his father’s arrival there. “THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 189¢(-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. Wan a 4ie found his father seated alone at the dinner table. Swinging wide open the door ae the dining room he strode aggressively in. The old man stood up in his place at the table, und his eyes brightened expect- antly when he saw son, for his brain was quickened by the thought that per- haps, after all his wrong-doing, the boy had come back to stand by him, a repent- ant prodigal. He was a man of warm and firm spirit, and now his breast heaved with Fis emotions. This boy had been the apple of his eye. Since the day of his Lirth he had looked for great things from him, and had seen in him tke refined per- petuation of the sturdy race of the Ender- bys. He counted himseif but a rough sort of country gentleman, and the refined face of his son had suggested the country gentleman cast in a finer mold. He was about to speak kindly as of old, but the young man, with clattering spurs, came up to the ether end of the table, and with a dry~insolence he sald: “By whose invitation do you come here?” The blood fled from the old man’s heart. For a moment he felt sick, and his face turned white. He dropped his head a little and looked at his son steadily and mournfully. . “Shall a man need an invitation to his own house, my son?” he said at last. The arrogact lips of the young man tight- ened; he tussed up his head. “The hous: is mine. I am the master here. You are an outlaw!” “An outlaw no longer,” said the old man, “for the Protector has granted me again the home of which I was cruelly dispos- sessed.” “The Protector is a rebel!” answered the young man, and his knuckles rapped petu- lantly upon the table. “I stand for the king—for King Charles the Second. When you were dispossessed his late martyred majesty made me master of this estate, and a knight also.” ‘The old man’s hands clinched in the ef- fort to rule himself to quietness. “You are welcome to the knighthood which I have never accepted,” said he; “‘but for these estates—” All at once a fierce anger possessed him, and the great shoul- ders heaved up end down with emotion— “but for these estates, sir, no law nor king can take them from me. I am John Ender- by, the first son of a first son, the owner of these estates since the time my mother gave me birth. You, sir, are the first of our name that ever was a traitor to his house!” So intent were the two that they did not see or hear three men who drew aside the curtains at the end of the room and stood spying upon them—three of Cromwell's men. Young Enderby laughed sneeringly and arswered: “It was a king of England that gave Enderby Manor to the Enderbys. The king is the source of all estate and honor, and I am loyal to the king. He is a traitor who spurns the king’s honor and defies it. He is a iraiter who links his fortunes with that vile, murderous upstart, that blether- ing hypocrite, Oliver Cromwell! I go to Scotland to join King Charles, and before three months are over his majesty will have come into his own again, and I into my own here at Enderby!” The old man trembled with the fierceness of his emoticns. “I only am master here,” he said, “and I should have died upon this threshold ere my Lord Rippingdale and the king’s men had ever crossed it, but for you, an En- derby, who deserted me in the conflict; a coward who went over to the enemies of our house!"’ The young man’s face twitched with a malignant anger. He suddenly started for- ward, and with a sidelong blow struck his father with the flat of his sword. A red ridge of bruised fiesh instantly rose upon the old man’s cheek and ear. He caught the arm of the chair by which he stood, staggerirg back as though he had received a mortal wound. “No, no, no!” he said, his voice gulping with misery and horror. ‘No, no! Kill me, if you will; but I cannot fight you! Oh, my Ged! my G he gasped scarcely above a whisper. “Unnatural! unnatural He said no more, for, upon the instant, four men entered the room. They were of Cromwetl's tronsides. Young Enderby look- ed round swiftly, ready to fight, but he saw at once that he was trapped. The old With a Sidelong Blow Struck His Father With the Flat of His Sword. man also laid his hand upon his sword, but he saw that the case was hopeless. He dropped into his chair and leaned his head upon his hands. PART V. Two months went by. The battle of Dun- bar was fought, and Charles had lost it. Among the prisoners was Garrett Enderby, who had escaped from his capters on the way from Enderby House to London, and had joined the Scotch army. He was now upon trial for his life. Cromweli’s anger againet him was violent. The other pris- oners of war were treated as stch, and were merely confined to prison, but young Enderby was charged with blasphemy and sedition, and with assaulting one of Crom- well’s ofticers—for on that very day that young £nderby made the assault Crom- well's foreign commission for John Ender- by_was on its way to Lincolnshire. Of the four men who had captured Gar- 1ett Enderby at Enderby House, three had been killed in battle, and the other had de- serted. The father was thus the chief wit- ness against his son. He was recalled from Portugal, where he had been engaged upon Cromwell's business. The young man’s judges leaned forward expectantly as John Enderby took his place.- The protector himself sat among them. “What is your name, sir?” asked Crom- we ‘John Enderby, your highness. ‘It hath been said that. you hold a title given you by the man of sin.” “I have never taken a title from any man, your highness.” A look of satisfaction crossed the gloomy and puritanical faces of the officers of the court-martial. Other questions were put, and then came the vital points. To the first of these, as to whether young Enderby had uttered it snd seditious libels against the protector, the old man would enswer ncthing. “What speech hath ever been between my son and myself,” he said, “is between my son and myself only.” A start of anger traveled round the zeats of the court-martial. Young Enderby watched his father curiously and sullenly. “Duty to country comes before all private feeling,” said Cromwell. “I command you, air, on peril of a charge of treason against yourself, to answer the question of the court. ‘If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off; if thy foot cause thee to stumble, cut it off. ie pernicious branch of the just tree shall be cloven and cast into the brush Reap. You are an officer of this common- wealth, sir?” asked Cromwell, again. meg your highness’ permission,” he re- pl “Did your son strike you upon the face with tho flat of his sword upon the night recorded in this charge against him?’ “What acts have passed between my son and myself are between my son and myself only,” replied the cid man, steadily. He did not look at his son, but presently the cheeks, tears rolled slowly down his 80 that more than one of his judges who had sons of thelr own were themselves moved. But they took their cue from the protector, and made no motion coward the old man’s advan . Once more Cromwell essayed to get Enderby’s testimony, but, “I will not give witness against my son,” was John Enderby’s constant and dogged reply. At last Cromwell rose in anger. s “We will have justice in this realm of England,” said he, “though it* turn the father against the son and the son against the father. Though the house be divided against itself, yet the Lord’s work shall be done.” Turning his blazing eyes upon John Ender- by, he sald: “Troublous and degenerate man, get gone from this country, and no more set foot in it on peril of your life! We recalled you from outlawry, believing you to be a true lover of your country, but we find you ma- Hgnant, seditious and dangerous!” He turned toward the young man. “You, sir, shall get you back to prison un- til other witnesses be found. Although we know your guilt, we will be formal and just.” With an impatient nod to an officer be- side him, he waved his hand toward father and son. As he was about to leave the room, John Enderby stretched out a hand to him ap- Fealingly. “Your highness,” said he, “I am an old man!" “Will _you bear witness in this cause?” asked Cromwell, his frown softening a little. ‘Your highness, I have suffered unjustly; the lad is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, I cannot—" With an angry wave of the hand Cromwell walked heavily from the room. Some touch of shame came to the young man’s cold heart, and he spoke to his father es the officers were about to lead him away. ne pare Been Ses have misunderstood A , e said, and h eae out his hand. pcablint seams ut it was too late. The old man turned on him, shaking his shaggy head. ever, sir, while I live. The wrong to me fs Httle. I can take my broken life into a foreign land and die, dishonored and for- gotten. But my other child, my one dear child who has suffered year after year with me—for the wrong you have done her, I never, never, never Will forgive you! Not for love of you have I spoken as I did today, but for the honor of the Enderbys, and be- cause you were the child of your mother!" Two days later at Southampton the old man boarded a lit! Have ‘tle packet boat bound for The years went by again. At last all was changed in England, The monarchy was re- stored, and all the land was smiling and centent. One day there was a private read- ae initie aun cuomber The voice of ler move He modulations® Pleasant yet vibrant “The king was now come to a time when his enemies wickedly began to plot against him secretly and to oppose him in his pur- Dcses; which, in his own mind, were benefi- cent and magnanimous. From the shire where his labors had been most unselfish came the first malignant insult to his per- son and the first peril to his life—prefiguring the hellish plots and violence which drove him to his august martyrdom—” The king had entered quietly as the lady- in-waiting reid this passage to the queen, and, attracted by her voice, continued to listen, signifying to the queen, by a gesture, that she and her ladies were not to rise. This was in the time when Charles was yet devoted to his princess of Portugal, and “Troublous and degenerate man, get gone from the country.” while she was yet happy and undisturbed by rumors—or assurances—of her lord’s wan- dering affections. “And what shire was that?" asked the king at that point where the chronicler spoke of his royal father’s ‘‘august martyr- dcm.”” “The shire of Lincoln, your majesty,” said the young lady, flushing, and, rising from her footstocl at the queen’s feet, she made the king an elaborate courtesy. Charles made a gentle and playful gesture of dissent from her extreme formality, and, with a look of admiration, continued: “My Lord Rippingdale should know some- what of that ‘first violence’ of which you have read, Mistress Falkingham. He is of Lincolnshire. “He knows all, your majesty; present at that ‘first violence.’ ” “It would be amusing for Rippingdale to hear these records—my Lord Clarendon’s, are they not? Ah—not in the formal copy of his work? And by order of my Lord Rip- pingdale? Indeed! Indeed! And where- fore, my Lord Rippingdale?” “Shall I read on, your majesty?” asked the young lady, with heightened color, and a@ look of adventure and purpose in her eyes. Perhaps, too, there was a look of anger in them—not against the king, for there was a sort of eagerness or appealing in the glance she cast toward his majesty. ‘The queen lifted her eyes to the king half doubtfully, for the question seemed to her perilous, Charles being little inclined, as a Tule, to sit long in her chamber or listen to serious reading, though he was ever gay in conversation, and alert for witty badi- rage. His majesty, however, seemed more than complaisant, he was even boyishly eager. The young lady had been but a short time in the household, having come over with the queen from Portugal, where she had been brought to the notice'of the then princess ‘by her great coolness and bravery in rescuing a young lady of Lisbon from grave peril. She had told the princess then that she was the daughter of an exiled Eng- lish gentleman, and was in the care of her aunt, one Mistress Falkingham, while her father was gone on an expedition to Italy. The princess, eager to learn English, en- gaged her, and she had remained in the palace till the princess left for England. A year passed, and then the Queen of England sent for her and she had been brought close to the person of her majesty. - | At a motion from Charles, who sat upon @ couch, idly tapping the buckles on his shces with his gos sence staff, the yeung lady plac Lerself again at the queen's feet and continued reading. “It was when the king was come to Bos- ton town upon the business of the Fens and to confer some honors and inquire in- to the taxes, and for the further purpose of visiting a good subject at Louth, who knew of the secret plans of Pym and Hampden, that this shameful violence befell our pious and filustrions prince. With him was my Lerd Rippingdale and—” “Ah, ah, my Lord Rippingdale!” said Carles, half aloud, “so this is where my lerd and secret history meet—my dear, dumb lord!” Continuing, the young lady read a fair and just account of the king’s meeting with John Enderby, of Enderby’s refusal to ac- cept the knighthood, and of his rescue of the king at Sutterby. “Enderby? Enderby?” said the king, “that Was not one Sir Garrett Enderby, who was with the Scotch army at Dunbar?” t “No, your majesty,” said the young lady, scarcely looking up from the page she held, “Sir Garrett Enderby died in Portu- gal, where he fied, having escaped from prison and Cromwell’s vengeance.” “What Enderby did this fine thing, then? My faith, my martyred father stanch men—even in Lincolnshire!” “The father of Sir Garrett Enderby it wss, your majesty.” “How came the son by the knighthood— s'death, it seems to me I have a memory of this thing somewhere, if I could but find itr’ “His gracious majesty gave him his knighthood.” “Let me hear the whole story. Is it all there, Mistress Falkingham?” said the king, nodding toward the pages she held. “Tt is not all here, your majesty, but I can tell what so many in England know, aa something of what no one in England ows.” he was sacred memory PART VI. ‘The queen put out her hend as if to stay the telling, for she saw what an impres- sion her fair reader had made upon the king. But the young lady saw no one save Charles—she did not note the entrance of two gentlemen, one of whom looked at her in surprise. This was Sir Richard Mow- bray of Leicester. The other was Lord Rippingdale (now lord chamberlain), who had brought Sir Richard thither at the re- quest of the king. Sir Richard had been momentarily expected on his return from a mission to Spain, my lord had orders to bring him to the'king on the very in- stant of his arriy: The king waved His hand when Lord Rip- Dingdale would hav conte forward, and the young ieay hued with the history of Sohn Ender! y. Bho forgot her surround- ings. It seemed as if she was giving vent to the suppressed, feelings, imaginations, sufferings and wrongs of years, Respect- fully, but sadly, when speaking of the dead king; eloquently, tenderly, when speaking of Oliver Cromwell, she told the story with @ point, a force and a passionate intelli- gence which brought,to the face of Charles @ look of serious admiration. He straight- ened himself where he sat, and did not let his eyes wander from the young lady’s face. As she spoke of Sir Garrett Ender- by and his acts—his, desertion when Lord Rippingdale laid siege to the house, his quarrel with his father, the trial of the son, the father’s refusal to testify against him, and the second outlawing by Crom- well—her voice faltered, but she told the tale bravely and determinedly; for she now saw Lord Rippingdale in the chamber! Whenever she had mentioned his name in the narrative it was with a little Inflection of scorn, which caused the king to smile, and when she spoke of the ruin of Enderby House, her brother’s death and her father's years of exile, tears came into the queen’s eyes and the king nodded his head in sym- pathy. Sir Richard Mowbray, with face aflame, watched her closely. As she finished her story he drew aside to where she could not see him without turning round. But Lord Rippingdale she saw with ease, and she met his eyes firmly, and one should say, were she not a woman, with some little malicious triumph. “My Lord Rippingdale,” said the king, slowly and bitingly, “what shall be done “It is not all here, your majesty.” to the man whom the king delighteth to hi rn 0 ‘Were I Mordecai I could better answer that question, your majesty,” was my lord’s reply. ‘Perhaps my Lord Rippingdale could answer for Haman, then,” said his maj- esty. “My imagination is good, but not fifty cubits high, your majesty. The answer pleased the king. For he ever turned life into jest—his sorrows and his joys. He rose and motioned toward the door, and Lord Rippingdale passed out just behind him, followed by Sir Richard Mowbray, who stole a glance at the young chron- icler as he went. She saw him, then recog- nized him, and fivshed scarlet. She did not dare, however, to let him ceme to her. He understood, and he went his way after the king and Lord Rippingdale. In all the years that had passed since the night he hed helped her father and herself to escape from Enderby House; since he aided them to leave their hiding place on the coast end escapé to Holland, she had never forgotten his last words to her, the laughing look of his eyes, the pressure of his hand. Many a time since she had in her own mind thought of him as she had heard her father vail him, “Happy Dick Mowbray!” ard the' remembrance of his icycus face had been a help to her in all her sufferings. His’ brown hair was now streaked with gray, but the light In the face was the same; there was the same alertness and buoyant health in the figure ard the seme row of laughing white teeth. -As she stcod watching the departing fig- ure sne scercely knew that the queen was preparing to go to her bed-chamber. She became aware of it definitely by the voice of her majesty, now scmewhat petulant. Two hours later she was walking alone in one of the galleries, when, hearing a gentle step behind her, she turned and saw the king. She made &n obeisance and was about to move on, when he stopped her, speaking kindly to her, and thanking her for the great pleasure she had given him that afternoon. “What should be done for this quasi knight of Enderby?" asked the king. “He saved the life of the king,” she said; then, boldly, confidently, “your majesty, for conscience sake he lost all—what can repay him for his dishonored years and his ruined home!” “What think you, mistress, should be done with him? Speak freely of the man whom the king delighteth to honor.” She felt the sincerity under the indolent courtesy, and spoke as only a woman can speak for these she loves. “Your majesty he should have the earl- dom promised by Wolsey, and his estates restored to him as he left them.” The king laughed dryly. « “He might refuse the large earldom as he scorned the little knighthood.” . “If your majesty secured him estates suit- able to his rank he could have no reason to refuse. He was solicitous and firm then for his—his sor—but now!” Her reply was as diplomatic and sug- gestive as it was sincere, and Charles loved such talents. “Upon my soul, dear Mistress Falking- ham, I love your cleverness,” said the king, “and I will go further, I-—” He stocped and whispered in her ear, but she drew back in affright and anxiety. “Oh, your majesty, your majesty,” she gald, “I had not thought—” She moved on distractedly, but he put out his hand and stayed her. “Ah, a moment, sweetheart,” he said. must go to the queen,” she answered, hurriedly. “Oh, your majesty, your maj- "* she repeated. ‘Would you ruin Her eyes filled with tears. “Until the queen welcomed me here I have had nothing but sorrow. I am friendless and alone.” “No, no,” sald Charles kindly, while Charles is king of England.” “I am little more than an orphan here,” she said, common soldier, your majesty, and—” ‘ot alone She Saw Him, Then Recognized Him, and Flushed Scarlet. “A common soldier!” repeated Charles, a little stiffly; “they told me he was a gen. tleman of England, doing service in Italy.’ “My father is in your majesty’s house- hold guard,” she answered. “He was John Enderby—alas! none would recognize him now as suc! 2 ‘The king stared at her a moment. “You—you—mistress—you are John En- derby’s daughter?” . Her reply was scarcely above a whisper. “His only child, your majesty. “Upon my soul! Upon my soul!” was all Charles said for @ moment, and then he added: ‘Why did you not speak before?” “My father would not let me, your maj- esty. He is ofily returned to England these few months." “He is here to—?” “To be near to me, your majesty.” The king bowed low over her hand. “Mistress Enderby,” said he, frankly, are honored by your presence in this place, Tomorrow morning at 11 your father shall come to us. Yi eae a child in face,’ “I am twenty-seven years old,” she an- ered, frankly. : regalte old enough, tobe a. countess,” he charmingly, “an enoug! enjoy the honors ‘thereot. So saying, he bowed again, and with a gracious smile dismissed her. She. went s: Ripping- dale, “Ha.” said my lord, with a wicked smile, “a new violet in the king’s garden!” ‘His companion turned on him swiftly. “My lord,” said he, “this is the second time today you have slandered this lady.” The other lifted his eyebi “Ts it a slander to say that the king finds a me charming at any hour o’ the clock?” said he. Sir Richard slapped him acros the cheek with his gicve. Sir Richard Slapped Him Across the Cheek. “TI take a pleasant duty from John En- derby’s shoulders, my lord! I will meet you at your pleasure!” The next morning at sunrise Lord Rip- Ppingdale declared with his last breath that he did not know the lady was John Ender- by’s daughter, and he begged Sir Richard to carry to Enderby an apology for all past wrongs. Sir Richard came in upon the king at the moment that his majesty was receiving John Enderby—a white-headed old man, yet hale and strong, and wearing the uniform of the king’s guard. The fire of Enderby’s eye was not quenched. The king advanced toward him and sa:d: 2 “You are welcome to our court, Squire Enderby. You have been absent too long. You will honor us to accept a tardy justice ‘without a pric he added, in a low tone. “Your majesty,” said Enderby, “for m justice comes too late, but for my child— “An earldom can never come too late— asked the king, smiling gayly. ‘or me, your majesty, all comes too late except—’ his voice shook a little— “except ihe house where I was bor Charles looked at him gravely. “Upon my soul, Enderby,” said he, “you are a man to be envied. We will not rob you of your good revenge on our house, ror of your independence. But still we must have our way. Your davghter’’—he turned lightly toward Felicit: ‘if she will not refuse me, she cannot upon the ground that you refused my father—she shall be Countess of Enderby in her own right; with estates in keeping!” Womanlike, Mistress Felicity had no logi- cal argument against an honor so munifi- cently ordained. “And now tor your estates, who holds them?” asked the"king. eh “Lord Rippingdale, your majesty,” an- swered Enderby. “Yes, yes, my Lord Haman! We have already sent for him. It is long past the time.” His brow darkened. Sir Richard Mowbray stepped forward and said: “Your majesty, Lord Rippingdale is he- yond obedience or reparation;” and then he gave the message of the dead man to John Enderby. A month later Mowbray was permitted to return to court, and with him came John Enderby and the Countess of Ender- by. When Charles was told how matters had gone between the younger two, he gave vent to a mock indignation, and in consequence, he made Sir Richard Mow- bray an earl also, that, as he said, they might both be at the ‘same rearness to him; for etiquette was tyrannical, and yet he did not know which of them he loved better! As for the man so long dishonored, Charles swore that since John Enderby came not to the king at court, the king would go to nim at Enderby. And go he did in good temper-and in great friendship for many a year. (The end.) a Panch’s Plea for the White Plumed Herons. An Appeal to All Ladies With Pitiful Hearts, “Butchered to make a Roman holiday, ‘That roused bard anger in indignant meter. Butchered to make 4 lady's bonnet gay!— Sounds that much sweeter? , Little white heron, with the shoulder plume, Which stirs the milliner’s remorseless passion, You guess not how your finery seals your doom At beck of fashion. The littl> egret's nup ial plumes are sought Above all other feathers by Eve's daughter, hence the heronry with woe is fraught, A scene of slaughte: Poor, pretty, bridal-plumed, nest-loyal birds, At breeding-time alone you grow gregarious, ‘The hunter comes, and scenes too sud for words Grieve e’en the hilarious. ‘The mothers hovering near thelr helpless brood, Are shot in hundreds; "tis such easy Killing? The plumelets are plucked out, since they are good For many a shilling. ‘The Joung birds starve, whilst festering in white eas, ‘Ther displumed parents He in scores about them, When men say at the thought their chill blood creeps, ‘Will ladies doubt them? Male thrails of Mammon do the murderous deed, But if the slaves of Mode could feel compassion, Young herons need not starve, nor old ones bleed, To—follow Fashion. ‘The heronries are fast destroyed, "tis said, ‘The pretty egrets fast caterminated. It seems a pity! Betwixt Mode and Trade Are the birds fated? Nay, lovely woman, prithee just say “Nay” Panel foves the bey, and $0 hie peiaeeana “Dears—do your dutyi") ns PI ————ee. Even More Wonderf: From the Chicago Post. = “When you come’ to think of it it is won- derful how many men have achieved dis- tinction in youth,” said the man wtth the magazine. “Possibly, possibly,” replied the man with the newspaper, “but I run across things ‘for my father 1s now only a| Very day that are much more wonderful than that.” “Such as what?” “Well, the number of young- men who haven't achieved distinction, but who think that they have.” And the man with the magazine was con- vinced. ena ————+e+______ Social Inequalities. From the Indianapolis Journal. “Say,” snapped the busy man, “my time is worth a dollar a minute. A dollar a+ minute; do you hear?” “That jist shows the difference in folks,” said the gentleman with shoelaces to sell. “Once I done a whole year’s time for only $8.45.” —————— For Slippers Only. From the Philadelphia Times. Almost all other hides can be made into boots and shoes, but the banana skin is only available for slippers. ———-e+____ Just the Same Thing. From the Chicago Record. “Say, loan me $10 for about a week.” “Can't; haven’t got but five.” do—lend me the ‘ive for two ———_+e+_____ About Doctors, From the Boston Transcript. Hicks—“They tell me that a vivisection- ist can operate a long while upon an animal without killing it,” ‘Wicks—‘“Doctors are dangerous only when they are supposed to be attempting to pre- serve life.” Le conquerant devant le sphinx.—Life. FOR CHEAPER LIGHT Great Electrical Experts and What They Are Doing. EXPERIMENTS BY EDISON AND TESLA Discovery of a New Kind of Illumination Claimed. ETHERIC LIGHTING ———~— E ARE SOON TO W wwe electric lights so cheap that any one can afford to have them. At least, this is the promise of three noted elec- triclans, who have been working on the problem for some time past. The fact that Thomas A. Edi- son and Nikola Tesla are two of the three referred to gives strong assurance that we may look for a revolution iu our system of illumination in the rear future. I had occasion to pay a number of visits to the laboratory of Mr. Edison near Llew- ellyn Park, N. J., within the past month, in order to find out how he was progress- ing in his experiments with the wonderful Roentgen rays, which seem to respect neither substance or shadow, but g0 through everything. It was on one of these trips that I learned from Mr. Edison's own lips how he had practically succeeded in improving his incandescent lamp so that he could run twenty of them for each horse power used. This is a distinct gain of 33 1-3 per cent, as at present only fifteen lamps can be run per horse power. “I started out with ten incandescent lamps per horse power,” said the wizard, “and after a while succeeded in bringing these up to such a state of perfection as t@ string fifteen of them on a line for each horse power employed. Now I have practi- cally succeeded in improving my incandes- cent lamp so that I can put twenty lamps where I could use only fifteen before.” “Then you are not experimenting with etheric or phosphorescent lighting,” I said. “No,” replied Mr. Edison. “I believe that the incandescent lamp can be improved so that it will give as good light at as small a cost as anything in the market. Besides, I don’t take any stcck in these graveyard lights that some electricians are experi- menting with. The incandescent lamp sends out as soft and mellow a light as could be expected; it is quite adequate for all practical purposes.” Exsperimenting With X Rays. “Would you care to say just how you have improved your new lamp?” “Not just yet. I have still some finishing touches to make on it. You see, when Prof. Roentgen made his wonderful, dis- covery of the X rays, I dropped everything in order to repeat the experiments here. These rays open up wonderful possibilities in the electrical world, and may make it necessary for us to completely reconstruct the undulatory theory of light. Just think where we are now! Photographing through wood and metal, talking by telephone a thousand miles away, telegraphing under the ocean, despite of storms and tempest— why, one of these days we shall perhaps see by electricity.” “You will keep your carbon filament in the improved incandescent lamp, and not dispense with it, as Tesla proposes to do?” I asked. “Oh, yes,” he replied. “No need of changing that now. I had quite a time finding it; I searched all over creation. They are using cellulose now, but it isn’t much Cheaper than the Japanese bambvo splints that I first used.” “Then you think your latest improve- ments will cheapen electric lighting?” I asked again. “I don’t see how it can help it,” replied Mr Edison. “If I can run twenty lamps where 1 now use only fifteen, don’t you see that there will be considerable saving? “Have you taken out your patents yet? “No—nor shall I. I don’t believe in get- ting things patented any more. It doesn’t protect you. The only safe way is to keep the secret yourself as far as possible.” Mr. Tesla’s Light. I had a pleasant chat with Mr. Niko.a Tesla the cther day, and learred from him that he has about perfected his new phos- phorescent light, which will come as near artificial daylight as anything yet attempt- ed. There will be no filament in the glass bulb; nevertheless, it will glow with all the brilliancy of an arc light. ‘The current em- ployed will be of low voltage, but it will be changed into one of high potential by induction coils. In this way three improve- ments will be effected over the present in- candesceat lamps—brighter illumination, no deadly wires, and cheaper cost. Mr. Tesla is not yet ready to give to the public the details of his wonderful inven- ton, but those who have seen the new light say that it will work a revolution in meth- ods of illumination. Some remarkable pho- tographs have already been obtained from it. It is stated that the cost will be scarce- ly one-half of the rates that at present pre- vail. The third electrician who is grappling with the problem of cheap illumination is Mr. D. McFarlan Moore, who claims to have solved the secret of the fire-fly. Fol- lowing close upon the heels of Roentgen’s rayr, the discovery promises to work a revolution in electric illumination, and fore- shadows an era of one unbroken day. Mr. Moore is comparatively unknown to fame. For several years past he has been quietly at work in his Newark laboratory— which, curiously enough, is within a stone’s throw of Edison’s old place—and success seems at last to have crowned his efforts. He calls the new kind cf illumination “eth- eric lighting” for want of a better name, and employs only the most simple ap- paratus to manufacture it. Indeed, like Roentgen’s rays, the wonder is that some electrician has not before this time hit up- on Mr. Mcore's discovery. It is certainly as simple as it is remarkable in the effects produced. Not only is it the rearest ap- Proach to the production of light without heat that the world has yet seen, but the whole illumination is obtained from an or- dirary current of low voltage. A New Principle. There are no hairpin filaments in Mr. Moore’s system, as with the incandescent lamp, and the illuminating agent is dis- tributed through pipes and tubes, just as we now distribute water and gas. Mr. Moore's invention involves a new principle in molecular vibration. He sepa- rates the several divisions of energy, and employs only the illuminating elements. He hopes to get as much light with a one-volt current as Tesla now does with a million volts. In short, the new light promises to turn things topsy-turvey. We are certainly on the eve of a revolution in electric light- ing, if Tesla, Edison and Moore are to be believed. Mr. Moore's new light, owing to the ab- sence of heat, requires little power to gen- erate it, and can be produced from a bat- tery the size of that which rings the front door bell. In other words, an ordinary class jar, containing pieces of zinc and carbon | immersed in acid, will furnish a current sufficient to produce a good illumination. Mr. Moore's apparatus is not much big- ger than an ordinary size teacup, and the little machine that breaks the circuit and corresponds to the electric bell is not bigger than one's finger. I had occasion to visit Mr. Moore's labor- atory the other day. Some of the experi- ments I witnessed were beautiful, and the light was certainly as good as one could wish. One experiment struck me particu- larly. After we entered the dark room the inventor handed me a long glass tube,about as big as a broomstick,and then ordered the | lights out. In a few seconds, streams of Might began playing througn the tube from one end to the otker. The amazing thing about it Is that there is no contact with | anything. Of course I asked Mr. Moore to explain. Electrical Induction. “It is only a menifestation of electrical induction,” he replied, smiling. “The cur- rent from the diminutive vibrator is con- nected with a small piece of tin on the Gladness Comes Wits better understanding of the transient nature of the many phys- ical ills, which vanish before proper ef- forts—gentle efforts—pleasant efforts— rightly directed. There is comfort in the knowledge, that so many forms of sickness are not due to any actual dis- ease, but simply to a constipated condi- tion of the system, which the pleasant family laxative, Syrup of Figs, prompt- ly removes. That is why it is the onl: remedy with millionsof families, andis everyw! esteemed so highly by all who value health. Its beneficial effects are due to the fact, that itis the one remedy which promotes internal cleanliness without debilitating the organs on which it acts. It is therefore all important, in order to get its bene- ficial effects, to note when you pur- chase, that you have the genuine arti- fornia Fig Syrup ly and sold by all reputable druggists. If in the enjoyment of good health, and the system , laxatives or other remedies are then not needed. If afflicted with any actual disease, one may be commended to the most skillful physicians, but if in need of a laxative, one should have the best, and with the well-informed everywhere, Syrup of Figs stands highest and is most largely World's Fair! HIGHEST AWARD. INPERI NUM The STANDARD and BEST prepared FF OOD Prescribed by physicians, Relied on in hospitals. Depended on by nurses. Indorsed by the press. Always wins hosts of friends wherever its supe- rior merits become known. It is the safest food for convalescents! Is pure and unsweetened and can be retained by the weakest stomach. Sold by DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERE! myl&s John Carle & Sons, New York. ceiling, and the electric waves pass through the intervening air space to your body.” If what Mr. Mocre says is true, the pos- sibilities of this one feature of the new light are simply enormous. If, instead of a piece of tin, metallic paint were put on the walls or ceiling and made a part of the circult the same effects would be produced. The tube becomes a veritable stick of day- light. No wires or connections are needed. All that is necessary is a glass tube in which the light can manifest itself. No matches, no oil, no gas, no buttons to press—all ycu need is a glass much like a walking stick. —_——__—. Written for The Evening Star. The “Pants” He Left Behind Him. (To @ gentleman who, on concluding his visit, lef% © pair of trousers bebind.) There's a specter In the closet— Aud it’s queer; For it’s headless and it's trunkless, And I fear Every moment while I’m glancing At the door, with eyeballs dancing, It’s two legs will come out prancing Waile I'm here, It's a pair of your old breeches— (What 2 find!) With a weary, worn expression Just behind; And I'm thinking ye'll be sorry ‘Ye've not got ‘em; so, begorry! T'll be sending ‘em tomorrs, D'ye moind? From the Brooklyn Life. Customer—“And what would your price b& if I should furnish the material?” Fashionable dressmaker—“Oh, in that case I should have to inform you that § never charge for material 3 5 Queer Fishes in Texas. From the Gourler-Light. Miss Myra Winkler called at our office the other day with a queer little fish found in the artesian wells at San Marcos, Texas. The fish is about four inches long, has hu- man face, hands and feet. A large number of these are said to live on land as well ag in water. o__~+e-+____ The Motive. ¥ From the Detroit Tribune. “Why have you pursued me all these years?” wearily demanded the princess of the drama. “I don’t know,” answered the wily mis- creant, “unless it was to give you a chance to wear all your costumes.” Drawing his mantle more closely about him, he nodded to the leader of the or- chestra. I visited Hot treated by the best hed medical men, often ca . ‘ail things ‘hed of T have recommended 8.8. 8