Evening Star Newspaper, August 21, 1897, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUSr 41, 189T—24 NE AGES. A CLERICAL ERROR How “Father Penburton” Assisted in a Race for a Wife. BY FRANCIS LYNDE. (Copsright, 1807, the S. S. McClure Co.) Written for The Evening Star. By way of prologue, let me say that I have never been quite able to understand why my colleagues in this far western diocese call me “the padre,” coupling the innuendo with an intimation that I should have been a priest of the older faith rather than a poor clergyman of our own. In my own looking glass—and which of us is ever vouchsafed a peep into that of another?— I find nothing to justify the inference. The quicksilver images the figure of a middle- aged person, whose sedentary habit has shlicklied a face never ruddy; whose vigils with the student's lamp have begun to ac- centuate the stoop in a rather ungainly pair of shoulders: whose attire is not, and has never been, I trust, more than decently ecclesiastical in cut and ensemble. None the less, sincerity compels the ad- mission that in traveling I am not infre- quently taken for a Romish priest, and that nm here in my own little parish of Carbonoro the coal miners call me Father Penburton. 1t was this absurd miscencep- tion, heightened, possibly, by the fact that I was reading a small black-bound book which may have nm mistaken for a breviary, that led to my entanglement in a zemantic affair on the railway—an_ en- tanglement which hi: cost me many disquieting moments. Not that I hold my- blame- self im any way accountable or worthy, be it understood, but merely be- cause it has given my clerical associates a fresh occ: n for other of their ill- chosen and meaningless gibes. _ ‘The beginning of it was in this wise. I 1 on a visit to ‘the bishop, and had ed the train to return to my parish. < taken a seat in the Pullman, I was ng the small, black-bound book, when the c¢ reat two young person: tered and established themselves in the section next to my own. At their incoming I fancied they were the inevitable newly- married couple whose presence seems now- adays to be a necessary complement to Fi nger list of any public convey- The young man was a clerk of some Bort, one would say, and his face was vaguely familiar. It was clean-cut, smcoth- shaven, and of the alert type which marks the younger men of business in this pro- “ss-ridden region. The young woman petite and distinctively handsome. Her face was a most agreeable study in youth- ful beauty, and her flashing brown eyes, alight witn repressed excitement, had a Jook in them which carried me swiftly back but pardon me; this is not the story own youthful follies. : T perceived at once that the two were laboring under some stress of emotion, which I took to be very natural embar- rassment, and as they sat facing me I thought to relieve them in some measure by taking the opposite seat, with my back toward them. I desire to emphasize this point, because one of my colleagues is un- charitable enough to insinuate that the tnge Was made in order that their con- ation might be the better overheard, a whieh I wish to repel with proper ‘That their talk was overheard Is a Every right-mind- ‘se vill agree with me that motiv reson Cutents are the cosmic principles Wie of ethic: say he did come scorn. matter of no moment. ed pe and not incident riying any Great Jenoash! Yo heme to dinner, after all and note of un- ‘The speaker was the young man, a very emphatic voice. was itor red the young wo- ; I'm almost sure Puan. he <u; f something. What makes yeu think and when I agh asked if you had called; pieer left the tabl said he had seen you in the carriage driv- . down Alameda street.” . eS young man groaned quite audibly. “Of course he did! That idiotic driver .d out for a furniture van just as we turr were meeting him and drove up to the very as small ax I could, ing me. What did curb. I made but he couldr poppa—Mr. Roderick! Af- ter you've torbidden him the house?" | The young man chuckled as if the sinful tion were applausive rather than a ecuivoe thi to be sorrowfully precated. “Good! What did he say to that? “He was angry—as he always yeur name is mentioned; he said you were serupulous enough to do anything. Then asked me if I could be ready to start for t Josephine’s tomorrow. And you told him you could?” “f did, Just that; but I didn't tell him I yuld. O, why doesn’t the train start?” I heard the click of the young man’s watch case. . “Chiefly because it isn't time. five minutes yet.” —the exclamation was almost a sob. “If he catches the 1 o'clock car down town he can overtake us here, can't he?” The watch case ticked again. “He might, but it’s unlikely. The car is due at the corner just at our leaving time, and he would have a block to walk—or run. But I was thinking of something else. If he has his wits with him shan’t be > till we pass the yard limits.’ ’ v r A w We have The yard limits? I don’t understand.” “We ave to stop to register at the limits. t mis us here he can take a run the legs off the horses, and in- tercept us at the yard station. It ean be done. I've done it myself more than once belated passenge rrors! Alan, if you let me be taken kK now I'll never speak to you again as s I live! “You needn't threaten me. It won't be fault it we're captured. I'm not any re anxtous to meet your father just now n you are,” asserted the young man, Then silence supervened, and I had leis- ure to construct the accusation. Clergyman in the Flying Locomotive. wedding purty, indeed, but a priori—an elopement, in short. This sweet-faced Yeung woman with the remindful eyes was taking her future in* her hand to give it over into the keeping of a young man whose consent to such a_ proceeding Was his suffictent condemnation. I pic- tured to myself the distress of the father, whose wishes had been so unfilially disre- garded. He was doubtl-ss a kind and in- culgent parent—are not all modern parents culpably sc?—and hie objeetions to the alert young man were probably well rooted in Good judgment and common sense. The name Roderick and the word about Delated passengers bridged the gap in my memory, and I was able to place the in- tending bridegroom. He was a young man employed by the railway company, in some capacity—I krow not what—in the booking office; he it was who had procured for me my clergyman's permit for half rates. At that time I had thought him a very pleas- ant young fellow; but it must be admitted that circumstances alter cases, and in the light of the present episode my point of view coincided tmmediately with that of the aggrieved father. It was not my af- to be sure, but my sympathies were strongly enlisted on the side of parental It was a| man had rejoined his companion, authority that I could with difficulty hold my peace. Indeed, it was borne in upon me so forcibly that I ought to expostulate with the young rashlings that I was about to do so when the train moved out and carried them, so to speak, suddenly across their Rubicon. Having thus lost the-opportunity for hopeful irterference, I may confess that I awaited the turn of events with no in- considerable degree of curiosity. Would the injured father fiave his “wits with him,” as the young man so irreverently phrased it, and drive post haste to inter- cept the train at the registering station? The Gay was werm and the car windows were open. When the shriek of the air- brakes was uplifted and the speed began to slacken I jooked out, and up the road leading down from the city. Far away among the last scattering houses of the suburb a carriage drawn by fast gallop- ing horses came in sight. At the same mement I heard the young man say: “This sun_is fearfully hot; don’t you think so, Eleanor? Let me close your window.” The bang of the sash and the whirr of the shade followed quickly, and I divined his intention. He, too, had seen the car- riage. Presently the train came to a stand, with the forward end of the Pullman im- mediately opposite the platform of the small registering station. From my win- dow I saw the conductor come out and raise his hand to give the signal for de- parture. In the very act he espied the against me, I believe, except that I've had the audacity to fall in love with you after he had quarreled with my father. But I couldn't help either the one or the other.” “No, indeed! But I hope you didn’t quar- rel with him. “Didn't I? I told him to go ahead and write his letter, if he wanted to; that I guess I could stand the publicity if he ! You didn’t tell me that.” ‘No; it didn’t seem judicious.” “Perhaps I mightn’t have consented if you had.” “Oh, yes, you would.” “Why would I?” “Because you—love me.” In_.good truth I could not obtain my own consent to listen any longer. More- over, the notes of the wood dove, feathered or human, are not particularly edifying in the ears of one who has long eschewed all thoughts of domestic joys, and I betook myself. with my book to the deserted smok- ing compartment. Here I was left in peace until after the train had passed the first telegraph sta- tion; but it was no sooner under way again than the conductor entered, foilowed close- ly by my young scapegrace. They sat down in the opposite seat, ignoring my presence as if I had been something more or less than a_ human being. “What is it, Tom?’ demanded the young man, anxiously. “Q, you're in for it up to your necks, you two. I have orders to dishonor your pass- es and put you both off at the next sta- “OH, PAPA! I CANT DO IT.” carriage with the galloping horses, and de- sisted. He was evidently going to wait for the vehicle to come up. For the next few moments the suspense was well-nigh electrical. The crucial anx- iety of the two young people seemed to communicate itself in some mysterious manner to the other occupants of the car, and we all sat breathless under the weight of a silence which was surcharged with suppressed excitement. When the drum- ming of the horses’ hoofs became faintly audible the young man could endure it no longer. With a hasty “Excuse me a mo- ment” to his companion, he left his seat; and I craned my neck from the window in time to see him join the conductor on the platform. “What are you waiting for, Graffo?” he demanded, with the air of one who is made bold by the occasion. The conductor jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the chase. Some drummer got left at the union depot, I guess. Serve him right if we didn’t wait on him. “Don't you fool n's manner of speech was @ iomatic, not to say vague, at times. That’s Mr. John Bostwick. If you den’'t pull out before he gets here I'm a dead man. Do you savez?” The conductor laughed, and rejoined with what appeared to be intende for rough pleasantry. “Oh, come off! What are you giving me? yourself!"—the young tressingly I had not noticed that the young man had offered to give him anything, but he ignored the inquiry, and burst out: “Facts, by Jove! Cold fact: I tell you my blood will be on your head if you wait till that carri gets here!” Pshaw! d’ye mean it, honest? What ou been doing to the master mechanic? Nother one of your fool pranks, I bet ¥erhe chaise was in plain view by this time, and it presented the unusua! spectacle of a square-shouldered gentleman, with a flerce military mustache and a very red face, leaning far out of the carriage win- dow and gesticulating violently. The young man saw, winced and made answer of ingled plea and protest. mipranks nothing! It’s business this time, I tell you. Give Ike the signal, quick, be- fore it is too late. Miss Bostwick’s mixed up in it, and—" : Trhe conductor's end sue pavers “ob here fluttering like S- head and hung ther we ES ae hapen flag. There was Gangor from the bell and a hissing of steam, and the wheels began to revolve. young scapegrace and his new-made eanteacrate sprang aboard, and I gave my attention to the encoming carriage. ee man was certainly a most reck- lees driver! He lashed his horses down the steep slope, and for a palpitant second a eclision with the moving train seemed in- evitable. It was happily averted at the critical instant by the mad-cap sen of Nim- ‘shi, who stood up in his place and dragged the plunging animals back upon their haunches by main strength. But the sud- den cramping of the vehicle jammed It be- tween a coal car and the iron lever which operates the switching mechanism, block- ing the doors a3 effectually as If the ob- structions had been placed with malice aforethought. I had a brief glimpse of the square-shouldered gentleman raging back and forth between the doors, thrusting first at one and then at the other, and then the moving train swept around a curve, and I could see no more. When I sank back into my seat with a sigh of mingled regret and relief the young who, thanks to the drawn shade and closed win- dew, had apparently neither seen nor heard aught of the exciting episode. ‘Are we safe, Alan?” she queried, her voice a-tremble with trepidation. “Safe as a church. Didn’t you see him?” “I saw nothing, but I thought I heard some one shouting.” Then, with a gasp of sudden and dismayful realization—“Oh, it’s my father, and he’s hurt—I_ know he is! Stop the train, Alan; stop it, I say; I’m going back!” “Oh, sit down; for pity’s sake, sit down, Eleanor, don’t you see everybody's catch- ing on!""—this in an agonized whisper. “He isn’t hurt, I tell you; not at all. That was the driver you heard, yelling at h!s horses.”” “Are you sure you're telling me the truth “Of course I am; didn't I see it? The fellow drove down betw< enthe switch stand and a coal car, and your father couldn't get either door open. He wasn’t hurt an atom, but he acted as if he was a good deal disappointed.” “Disappointed! You may depend upon it. He is simply furious. I'm awfully afraid he'll do something desperate yet.” “I don't see but what he will have to if he stops us now. He can’t get to Lavarock ahead of us: and fifteen minutes after we arrive you'll be Mrs. Roderick. She went silent at that, as what modest ycung woman would not; but after a little she plucked up courage to ask about the details. Her companion explained. : “After I left you at the house I went down town and wired Hardwicke, the agent at Lavarock, telling him there would be a ecuple on this train to be married in the hotel parlor on arrival. He is to arrange with the county clerk to keep his office open so that I can get the license, and to have the minister ready. I can drive to the ccurt house and back in ten minutes, and we can have it all over with while the passengers are at supper and be ready to go west on Number 5.” “It's very dreadful, Alan,” she mur- mured. “So pitifully different from one’s ideal wedding!” “That's so”—cheerfully—“there isn’t any ideality to spare, for a tact. But we can’t help that. If we hadn't made the dash your father would have packed you off to Chio between two days, wouldn't he?’ “He raid he would; and I'm afraid he meant it. And yet he has always been very pa to me, Alan, before—before this, you or. 5 “I know; but he meant business this time. And that isn’t all. After I had my little seance with him this morning—when I asked him outright if we mightn’t be mar- ried lke other people—he abused me like a sheep thief; said he’d write to the general manager and have me discharged, though he didn’t mention upon what grounds he would demand it.” “But how could he do that?’ “I give it up. There is nothing on record tion,” said the conductor, with what I un- derstood to be mock solemnity. Roderick nodded appreciatively. “I thought that would be the first thing he would do; that’s why I bought regular lickets. We're patrons of the company, just like other people, and I dare you to put us off!" The big conductor’s laugh shook the win- dows. “That's what I wired 'em,” he said. “But that ain’t the worst of it. Your don't- want-to-be father-in-law's out with a wild engine chasing us; and he’s got special or- ders giving him right of way over every- thing north and south.” I-could not deny myself a glance at the young man’s face over the top of my book. It was a striking and instructive study in dismay. “By Jove, Tom, that’s a horse of another color! He'll overhaul us as sure as fate. What am I going to do?” The big man shrugged. “Can’t you drop off at Alcantro or Syracuse and have it done before Bosty catches up?” “No; that’s the dickens of it—that’s what we're running away for. We've got to get out of the state. Miss Bostwick lacks just three months of being legaily of age.” “O ho! I see. That makes it bad. What's the old man got against you, anyway, Rod?” thing against me; it's my father. ‘Three or four years ago, when father was running the 201 ,they had a pretty spite- ful tiff, and father quit and went over to the East and West. Since that time the master mechanic has had no use for any’ of us.” 0 was to blame I never knew. They’re both rather pep- pery, and I guess it was six of one and a half-dozen of the other. But that doesn’t help me out of my bucket of hot water. What am I going to do?—that's what I'd hike to know.” The conductor opened his watch and appeared to be making a reflective compu- tation. “I've got a scheme, but I don't know as it’s worth much. He registered out for- ty-five minutes behind us. If he doubles our schedule—which he'll hardly dare to do on this light iron—he can’t catch us before we make Lrownsville, can he “I should say not; but what of that?” “Just go a little mite easy; I'm coming to the scheme pretty quick now. At Brownsvilie we meet the way freight, and ‘k Benson's running it. Happen to know Jack?" “I ought to; he was father’s fireman.” “Just so. Now, if I was you, which it’s mighty lucky for me I ain't, and a good friend o' mine was running that way freight, I bet you big money something would happen down at this end of the Brownsville yard that'd hold that there wild engine another forty-five minutes or so. What!" “Tom, you’re a trump! Jack will do it, if it costs him his job. You'll give me time at Brownsville to get a word with him?” “Sure thing, but you don’t want anybody to see you talking to him—it’s got to be a straight-out accident, you know, with no- body to blame.” “I know,” replied the young rascal, with a nod of intelligence; “trust me for that. Hello! this is La Vaca. Let's go see what the wires have to say.” ‘They went out together, leaving me with a new responsibility. Here was a bold corspiracy to obstruct the railway com- pany’s business; possibly to involve an in- nocent person, or perhaps more than one, in trouble. Was it not my duty to inter- fere at all hazards? I confess I have lit- tle regard for intermeddlers in any sort, and this was certainly no affair of mine. Nevertheless, I compromised on a resolve to expostulate with the young man him- self before we should reach Brownsville, and in the eddy of that determination re- sumed my book and the interrupted train of theugnt. Now, it is a student’s weakness to be un- conscious of the lapse of time, and, after what seemed to me a very short interval, indeed, my young Romeo entered the smoking room alone. Here, thought I, is my-ehance to reprehend the young knave, and I was about to do so when he fore- stalled me. “This is Fr Penburton, I believe,” he be- gan affably, producing a cigar case. “Will you join me?” “Thank you, I do not smoke,” I replied, as severely as might be.” “No? But you won't miné-my smoking, will you?” “Certainly not; I wish I might as readily absolve you of your weightler offenses.” “Meaning?”—his* eyebrows went up in well-affected surprise. “Meaning your reckless defiance of the proprieties in eloping with that sweet young girl in yonder—that and your plot to delay her anxious parent,” said I, sternly. His smile wes more than half a grimace. “You don't know the circumstances, father; if you did, you wouldn't blame us much. And as to the plot—well, that was rather a shabby trick to play on the old gentle- man, but it’s too late to repent of that now.” “Too late? How? What do you mean?’ “Why, it’s a matter of history s0 to speak. We managed among us to delay him nearly an hour at Brownsville, but he is after us egain now, at the rate of a@ mile a minute.” “Do you mean to tell me that we have already passed Brownsville?” I demanded, unable to believe that my abstraction had been so profound. ‘Rather better than an hour ago. This is Jornada”—with a wave of his. hand to- ward the station at which the train was then pausing. The minor transgression being unpre- ventadle, I was about to attack the major, when a brakeman came in and handed the young men a telegram, upon which the ink was not yet dry. The lighted cigar fell from his fingers as he read, and would assuredly have burned a hole tn the carpct had I not promptly set my foot upon it. Re! murder! but. that does settle it!” e he way of the transgressor—” I be- gan, but he broke in as.one who hears not. : ‘ “Say, Fr Penburton, can a priest of the Catholic church marry # pair of heretics at a pinch?” The question singularly irrele- eee to the best of my knowledge and belief. forbiaaing it. Why “I know of no fule do you ask?” “uw a “Read that,” he} said tragically, thrust- ing the message. into my hand. “If you can't help us ou§ we're done for, world without end!” I read: b 3 “To Alan Roderick, an train No. 7: ‘Everything O. K. as-ordered, except the minister, He is out at Reservation. Have sent cow puncher after. him on best bron- cho in town, but am. afraid he can’t reach before 7 o'clock. Shall 1 get justice peace? Answer. It was signed “Hardwicke,” and there was a footnote in ‘brackets—evidently a bit of extraneous inftrmation added by the receiving operator:at Jornada; “Bosty is overhauling you right. ‘He passed Ormsbee five minutes ago,’running like the wild Irishman. He'd beat you fifteen minutes into Lavarock if he could get by you.” “What have I to do with this?” said I. indicating the message. : “Why, I thought—that is, I didn’t know but you’d—well, you see, Fr Penburton, we've got to have a minister of some sort, some way. It's no use talking about a jys- tice of the peace to Eleanor—she won't listen a minute to that; but she might con- ae ea by. a Catholic priest. we cal retty Ens Haeune pretty high church, “Stili 1 do not understand. 1 justice of the peace nor yet a the Romish confession.” “You're not? Why, Graffo said you were; and yeur—er—" he broke down eal ‘ather tamely—‘‘ looked like one.” SS ent 78 “Which one?’ I asked, try severe as the occasion cera mene magistrate or the priest?” : ae hit me hi pleaded. “I meant the priest, of course. “Ah. I suppose t put pad Suppese I should be flattered, He sat twiddling his watch chai vously while he tri etal SOL led to framé the crucial “Then may I ask—would you & ing me what kind of aea Geapiter oe are?” ‘he stammered, finally. am a clergyman of- th Which Miss Bostwick seems, Dy epoce ae mission, to be a communicant,” said I. O, thank goodness!” he exclaimed, jump- aoe we eras ny gous effusively. “Two ols for luc You’ help us out, won't ee ee was my 0] rt) sparingly OPPortunity and I used it un- “Not by any manner. of means; contrary, I shall do everything In rey pow to prevent the consummation of this une happy affair.” (My colleague before te ferred to insists that my indignation was merely an outburst of pique at being again mistaken for a Romanist, but the charge is too trivial to refute.) “I shall go at oneo to the young lady to try if I may dissuade her while it is yet time to withdraw.” re, repped my hand and sat down again. S$ a coup de grace, a enough to hide the woung = "© Was manly it,” he said, handily. “Go it, if vou like, and I'll give you a clan nang, But you are the most mistaken person on this train, Mr. Penburton, if you'll allow me say it; you are going on general principles in an exceptional case. I do hope you may have the pleasure of meeting Miss Eost- wick’s father some time when he isn’t feel- ing well. You'll forgive us then. Went at once to the young woman, in- troduced myself, and labored with her ne her own pastor might, but all to no pur- pose. She (Would say no word against her E ; but she was quite u; cl on the question at issue, ape eatane “Please don't say any more, Mr. Pen- burton,” she said, finally. e are not school children, and we know quite. well what we are about. I am sorry it had to be, but there was no other way.” “But don’t you see, Miss Bostwick, your plans have failed already? The clergyman who was to have met you at Lavarock is out of reach.” y “How do you know that?” with rising emotion, — “Your—a—your companion’ has just re- ceived a telegram to that effect,” said I. “Merciful heaven! What shall we do! But you will help us, will you not, dear Mr. Penburton?” ‘she pleaded, laying her hand on-my arm. :*You can’t’ refuse now, Tam sure.” . I confess frankly'that the necessity was most trying, but £ could do no otherwise and be blameless. “You are very hard; hope you won't be sorry for it some day,” she murmured; and at the sight of the upspringing tears I was fain to beat a somewhat nasty retreat to the smoking department. My young scapegrace was still awaiting me, puffing tranquilly at a fresh cigar. “No go?’ he said, nonchalantly. “TI regret to say that my coun rejected,” I replied, with more s my manner than was in my heart. “I thought they would be. And now I hope you will reconsider your—ah, excuse me—"” The train was slowing into a desolate lit- tle prairie station, and he dashed out un- ceremoniously. I followed presently to get a breath of fresh air and to stretch my legs on the wind-swept platform. I saw young Roderick in excited converse with the conductor and the station agent, and was directed by their gestures to look back over the long straight reach of track to the southward. Far away on the horizon I made out a small black cloud, which I took to be the smoke from the pursuing engine. In a moment of abstraction I walked to the end of the platform to get a better view. It was a most foolish thing to do, and I had speedy cause to regret it. When I turned again what was’ my horror to behold the train once more in motion! I presume I should have known better than to make a most undignified attempt to overtake it, but I did not; and when I re- turned from the breathless and altogether unhopeful chase the station agent was smiling broadly. Then he took a second look at me and doffed his cap. beg your reverence’s pardon,” he said, with the unmistakable Milesian accent, “put war man always does be Inughin’ am not a priest of she queried, els were verity in like a fool whin another's chasin’ a thrain.”” “Never mind that,” I said, shortly. “How am I going to get to Lavarock? I must get there in time for the west-bound train. “That's easier said than done, your rever- ence; tnere’ll be no thrain till tomorrow. “Nevertheless, I must gv,” I repeated, unreasonably enough, I confess, but I was thinking only of getting back 10 ‘ny parish. My man looked up at the plume of smoke blackening the southern horizon. “I have it,” he said, suddenly, slapping his thigh. “If your reverence’ll not mind being shook up a thrifle on an engine.” He darted into the station, and presently the red arm of the semaphore swung out over the track with a faint clatter as from subterranean machinery. ive minutes later the pursuing locomotive thundered up with a shriek and a roar and stopped palpitant under the outstretched signal. A short, thick-set man, coatless, hatless and begrimed with coal dust and oil until he was scarcely recognizable, sprang to the platform and rushed violently at my friend the station agent. : “What in — are you stopping me for, you —-?” I omit here and elsewhere the shocking expletives with which his every sentence was garnished. My man stood his ground bravely. “Gen- eral orders, Mr. Bostwick, a’ ye see. The time card say tin minutes between thrains, and you're Iess than that behind No. 7 this blessed second. The man of wrath consigned the time card and all things appertaining thereto to the nether depths of an undescribable Perdition, with a horrifying accompani- ment of profanity,,; Bus my good friend, the young Irishman, was still undaunted. “Beg pardon, sorf, but now you're stop- ped, here’s his reverente the holy father goin’ to Lavarock,-and; was wan minute too late for Numher 7. If you wouldn’t mind—it’s purgato! that'll be yawnin’ for the best of us, and some day imaybe ye'll be wantin’ hini to——’ The angry man tgrnedt upon me with an oath between his teethj;but he swallowed it in what I took to.be sgme small measure of deference for thé cloth. “0, you're one-of the’ ‘Paulist fathers, I suppose. Well, cilnb atioard, and I'll get you to Lavarock;,a priest more or less wen't make any diffe 42 It was ungractoug enough, and most hu- miliating to be obliged to sail under false colors. But there was no alternative. I obeyed, not with trepidation, since the adventure promised to be most temerar- ious, and took my seat on the side where there seemed to be the least amount of machinery. The fireman was shoveling coal into the boiler in frenzied haste, but he desisted at a shout from his superior. “Johnnie, hand me down that oil can, was still speculating upon its probable utility the great lecomotive lunged for- ward and the chase recommenced. For the first mile the onrush of the huge iron monster was pleasantly exhilatating, but before many minutes had passed I be- gan to wish myself, first in my cosy study, and a little tuter anywhere in the universe so I might be safely out of the mass of shrieking machinery buried onward faster and faster and ever faster by the soot- begrimed maniac, who seemed bent om accomplishing not only his own destruc- tion, but that of the unfortunate fireman and myself as well. It was a hideous experience, and I never think back upon it without being devoutly thankful that the lines of my calling have fallen in less strenuous encompassments. When the uproar was most deafening, and the promise of speedy deliverance by death seemed each instant about to be ful- filled, I chanced to look outward and back- ward, and my horror was increased ten- fold by the appalling sight of flames burst- ing apparently from one of the fast-fiying wheels. At the imminent risk of my life I got upon my feet and crept aeross to the side of the madman. “Sir,” said I, shouting at the top of my voice, “‘we are about to be consumed. This locomotive is afire!”’ Thrusting me aside, he craned his neck out of the window, which had lately been mine, sprang back with an oath, which re- sounded above the din of the machinery, and brought the shuddering monster to a stand. Then he leaped to the ground, yell- ing frantic orders to the fireman. “Bucket o’ water! Quick, you imp of Hades! That's it; more—more yet. Now get your tools and pack this box. Lively! Get a move! Here, give me that hook! Now, then; more waste; more oil—more yet! The conflagration was stayed at length, and once more the terrible race was re- sumed. Five miles further on the flaming wheel stopped us again; and when this had occurred a third and fourth time I began to suspect that the handful of sand was in some manner accountable for it. Yet I dared not for my life so much as suggest this to the infuriated blackamoor, whose wrath mounted higher and grew more wu: governable with each fresh hindrance More than once we came in sight of the train ahead; but as often as we did so the smoking machinery brought us to a stand, evoking new and more dreadful maledic- tions from the madman, cursings measured only by the comparative meagerness of his vocabulary. Fortunately for my sanity, which was fast lapsing in the struggle for outward calm, the end came at length, and I step- ped down from the hissing monster at the Lavarock platform, thankful to my finger ups that I was yet in the land of the liv- ing. We arrived but a few moments be- hind the train, and I caught a glimpse of my young scapegrace in earnest consulta- tion with the agent, Hardwicke, as I passed the cab stand. I walked into the hotel waiting room, meaning to go to supper with the other passengers, but I was not to escape so easily. It seems that Hardwicke, whether from malice or misunderstanding I have never been able to learn, made haste to tell the angry father that I was the clergy- man who was to marry the runaways. If I had known this at the time I might have been more charitable. Truly, it must have been little less than maddening to reflect that he had unwittingly furthered the plans of the young fugitives by bringing me to Lavarock. But of this I knew nothing at the time, and when he shouldered through the throng in the waiting room and grasped my arm roughly I was pardonably an- noyed. “So you're the helper on this job, are you?” he shouted, and all and sundry gaped to look and listen. “Nice business for a man of your age, and a minister of the gospel—marrying runaway children! Worked me by setting up for a Catholic priest, too, didn’t you? By Gad, sir, if I'd known it I'd have pitched you out of the cab window, neck and heels, minister or no minister!” “You are the most unreasonable person 1 have ever had the misfortune to meet, sir,” said I, looking him fairiy In the eyes. “I’had no intention of deceiving you—” “Intentions be hanged!” he blustered. ““What the devil do you suppose I care about your intentions? I say they shan’t be married without my consent, and, by Gad, sir, I'd like to see ’em do ft!” It was more than was meet, and I gave him his answer hotly and in kind. “One moment, sir, if you please”—he was turning away—“I was on the train with these young people, and I not only refused to aid them, but said what I might to turn them from their purpose. But since I have had the very questionable pleasure of meet- ing you, I will say frankly, sir, that I shall be glad to assist them if they still desire se For an fnstant I thought he was going to strike me, but if he had any such inten- tion he abandoned it when the crowd part- ed to admit the two young rebels to tlie little circle in which we were standing. They were in the last ditch, and, knowing this, had the courage of despair; but of the twain I fancied the young woman was the more self-possessed. “Tl take you at your word, Mr. Penbur- ton,” said the young man, promptly, hand- ing me a folded paper and ignoring the angry blackamoor as best he might. “You wish me to marry you and this young woman?” said I, glancing at the license. ea a = “Here and now?” He looked over his shoulder at the throng of curious onlookers as one who would have purchased privacy at a price, but ne did not hesitate. “Yes, here and now, if you please; we sha’n’t lack witnesses, anyway.” “It shall be as you desire,” I said, grave- ly; and when I had found my book I be- n: BerDearly beloved— = The men in the crowd uncovered rev- erently, and even the man of wrath step- ped back and bowed his head. As the ex- hortation proceeded, however, he looked up with a malicious twinkle in his eyes. “‘Into this holy estate these two per- sons come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause why they inay not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace. & “My daughter is not of age; I forbid it,’ said the father, with unnecessary vehe- mence. "e A murmur of protest ran through the crowd, and I rebuked him promptly. “Your objection, sir, is as ill-timed as it is ineffectual. You know the law of this particular commonwealth, and rou will oblige me by not again interrupting this ceremony.” Then came a diversion wholly unexpected and mest embarrassing. The young woman bit her lip, burst into tears, and flung her- self suddenly into her father’s arms. “O, poppa—I c-ean’t do it!” she sobbed, hiding her face on his shoulder. “I—I thought I could, but I can’t. Please take me away—quick!” It was most embarrassing, as I have said; and my young Romeo blushed like a girl and made a hollow pretense of trying to. look as if It was a part of the program. The father grinned triumpnantly and ad- Gressed himself to me: “You see it wasn’t so blessed ineffectual, after all. I said this young jackanapes here shouldn’t marry my daughter without my consent, and I say it yet—I°ve come 120 miles on a wild engine to be in time to sey it. Now, then, if you're entirely satisfied In your own mind that I am masier in sy household, ycu may go ahead with your job id finish it—and I'll give the bride away. If the cacophonous blast from one of the Iccomotives outside which punctuated the sentence had been an expiosion of dyna- mite the effect of this declaration could scarcely have been more startling. Two or three cowboys on the outskirts of the throng were moved to cheer lustily; but of those most nearly concerned the young man was the first to recover his presence of mind. Taking Miss Bostwick’s nand, he looked up at me and said, very modestly: “I think maybe we're safe to go on now —that 1s, if you can make out to find the I take no shame in saying that I had to fight a sharp hattie for equanimity; but, having won it, I went on with the cere- mony with what shards and fragments of dignity I could collect upon the spur of the moment. At the proper question the bride's father played his. part, apparently without @ single thought of his superficial unfit- ness; though those who were nearest smiled in spite of themselves, and I could see that my young scapegrace was grinding his. teeth to keep down the unseemly desire to lsugh outright at his father-in-law's per- ‘The waiting room was clearing for the de- parture of the westbound train, and I be- gan to make my excuses. “No, you don't,” said the blackamoor, good-naturedly. “If you're obliged to get to Carbonoro tonight, I'll send you over on a@ special engine; but you've got to stay and grace this marriage feast, whether or no. You owe me that much for getting you here alive. I yielded, not altogether reluctantly, it must be confessed; but I declined the spe- cial engine. I had had quite enough of that species of journeying to last me a life- time, On the stairs I overtook the runaways, and Roderick was saying: “Well, all’s well that ends that way, I Suppose; but I'll have to admit I feel a bit aged, don’t you, Ellie? When you threw up your hands and went over to the ene- my, I wanted to drop through the floor. What ever made you go back on me at the last moment that way?” She smiled archly and slipped her arm two inches farther in his. “You're not par- ticularly acute this evening, are you, Alan, dear?” she said, lightly. “You musn’t for- get that I know your father-in-law a great deal better than you do.” Roderick stopped short and put his hands on her shoulders. “Look me in the eye and say that again,” he commanded. “Do you mean to tell me—but I don’t believe it. If I did, I'd go into politics tomorrow and Sr you a Mrs Ambassador—that’s what oe But to this day I believe he is not quite sure. —_—>—__ ART AND ARTISTS. Johannes A. Oertel, who is now in Bel Air, Md., is still working on the series of religious subjects, the first of which was exhibited here in the spring in St. Joha’s Parish Hall. This large canvas, which was called “The Dispensations of Promise and the Law,” now at the Centennial Exposition at Nashville. There are to be two other compositions in this series, which comprises the entire plan of the Redemp- tion, as historically fulfilled, “The Re- demption Accomplished” and “The Era of the Holy Spirit.” It is on the first of these two that the artist is now at work, and it will be completed in a morth or two While the first of the series contained over a hundred figures, -this composition includes but five: The Savior, the repre- sentative Soul and its enemies, Satan, Sin and Death. The figures are full life size, the canvas measuring over 7 by 12 feet. There is some probability that the painting will be exhibited here in the fall In all of the artist's work the religious nove fs dominant, and he will soon commence a large altar piece for a misson chapel in St. Louis, depicting “The Martyrdom of St. Stephen.” * * * Water colors have been claiming Spencer Nichols’ attention of late to the exclusion of any painting in oil, and he has done a good deal of black and white work as well as several good studies in full color. Among the latter may be mentioned a very delicate effect wherein a partly ruined building half hidden among rankly growing weeds and bushes is outlined with soft Insistance against an evening sky. When working in gouache, which is a favorite medium with Mr. Nichols, the soft atmos- pheric effect of wash may be cmployed i the distance, and the strong effect of an oil painting may be given to the fore- ground. This is the method he has fol- lowed in a pleasing gray day sketch which he made recently. The Georgetown canal has furnished him with many moti and he is now busy with still another, an effect of late afternoon. * * * Another artist who is working in water color at present is Mr. Jules A. Dieu- donne, and he has ncw upon his easel an unfinished picture, which he thinks should prove instantly popular if there is any virtue in the old adage, “All the world loves a lover.” He has shown an affection- ate couple seated cn a log near their pleasure boat, which has been drawn up on the sand. Mr. Dieudonne can do very clever things in water color, as is evi- denced by this subject, put all his more serious work is dene in oils. He has in contemplation a very large canvas in oil, and the preliminary study which he has already made promises a remarkable pic- ture. The scene which he depicts is An- dromache lamenting over the body of Hee- tor, and the eye is at once struck with the fine lines of the composition. The two central figures are thrown well into prom- inence, and the couch uvon which the dead warrior has been laid is surrounded by persons whose faces express deep grief in many different ways. The manner in which the masses of light and shade have been arranged is admirable, and the coloring is subdued and harmonious. Ex- cellent opportunity is given for rich color in the costumes of fhe figures and the costly materials with which the dimly lighted tent is hung. * * x Mr. R. Le Grand Johnston-often turns his artistic ability from painting to other channel8 in the summer months and shows his versatility in divers ways. He has recently carved for his own amusé- ment a magnificently enriched table, which he has stained in imitation of teak wood. The workmanship cn this fine specimen of wooed carving reveals the master hand and proves that the artistic spirit finds vent even in work which at first sight seems to be rather mechanical. * * * * x * Miss Mathilde Mlueden, who has been studying in Paris, is making an extended tour of the continent before returning to this country, which she will do some time late in the fall. She has been traveling with her sister, who joined her abroad this year, and they have already visited Holland, Belgium and Germany and are now in Franee. England is also to be in- cluded, and in all the countries which they visit they plan to do much of the conven- tional sightseeing of the average tourist, though it is pretty certain that Miss Mue- den will not return without sketches of many picturesque bits here and there. 2 * * * Mr. Edwin Lamasure has made many short excursions into the country around Washington in search of material for his fall exhibition, and the portfolio from which he will select the water colors to exhibit promises to be a very full one. At present most of the work that he is do- ing is being sent to New York. — Wife (bitterly)}—“You deceived me when you married me.” Husband—“I did mere than that. I de- ceived mysel! 5 ‘This List Appears Every Saturday. HOTEL INFORMATION FREE. For Souvenir Booklets of Summer Resorts and permanent hotels below call at or address «send stamp) HOTEL TARIFF BUREAU, . New York, 4 96 Kegent st., London. (248 Rue de Rivoli, Paris, HOTEL POCKET GUIDE FREE. (AP. means American Plan; R. P., Boropean.) ALBANY Hotel Kenmore, A.P., $4 ASBURY PARK, N.J...Coloman House, A.P., $4 up do... West Rad Hovel, now open BALTIMORE, Md... . rt, EP., $1.50 up do. afford, El. $1.50 up The Carroliton, AP, $3. u BOSTON, M: Hotel Vendome, AP., & BOURNEMOUTH, Eng. Royal Rath Hotel, A.P.,84t083 BRADFORD, Eng. Midland Hl. A P_$8.50:8.2_.81ap BRISTOL, R. 1 Yelf Ina, now open BROOKLYN, N.Y Ho! $1; AVSo $1; AP, $8 ew St James Hutel, AP. 50 Up -Hotel Witdsor, A.P., $2 to $3.4 LIVERPOOL, Big. A: LONDON, Eng. @o.(St-Pancras),Midiand Grand, A.’ 40.13 Henrietta st., do. Thackeray’s Hote Lot rand) « DeVere G ton Palace, W, ) Speetally recommended ANS, La. .Hotel Grunewald, ET ‘The Cosmopolitan Hotel, EP, § do. -N. B. Barry) S Hotel Westuninst do. .(Coas.A.Davis) H PITTSFIELL PLYMOUTH, Eng PORTSMOUTH, N. anada AWP ium) Maplewood, A Grand Hotel, 4 -Th QUERE RICHMOND, Va. Thelefferson,F. ST.GEORGE, Staten Islavd The ST.LOUIS. Lindell Hotel, E.P.,$1 SYRACU N.¥..-Yates Hote! 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New York-Southampton (Lo Twin-screw U.S. M msiips, Sailing every Wedvesd:y ALL St. Paul...Aug. 25, 10 am St. Louts. St. Louls..Sept. 1 10 am Paris. Paris... St. Paul sor BS KENSI noon INTERNATIONAL NAVIGATION COMPAL, Piers 14 and 15, North River. Office, 6 Bowling Green, X.Y. GEO. W. MOSS, Agent, wh22-6m ‘921 Penn. ave. } a 7 HOLLAND-AMERIGA LI From New York to Retterdam and Amest Boulogne Su 3 3% hours from Paris 8.8. SPAARNDAM cust 28, 1 SS. ROTTERDAM 4,10 1m First cabin, $ ‘S36 inforn ation apply to EF. Droop, 925 P: .. Bobbitt House NORTH GERM. FAST EXPRESS SERVICE PLYMOUTH, LONDON, BREMEN. Havel-Tu.,Aug. 31, 10 an) Saale.Tu..Sept. 7; 10 Friedrich der Grosse. Barbarossa “Thuradas, Ss er 2, noon Karlsruhe. . ursday eptember 9, noon Koengin Lalise...”....Tbursday, Septeniber 16, noou GIBKALTAR APALES, GENOA. 10 am’ Werra....Sep!. 18, 10 am loam KD CCMPAGNIE GENERALE TT. DIRECT LINE TO PARi: Via HAVR: Ta Gascogne, Baudelon. La Champagne, Potrot. La Touraine, Santelli it... Sept. 11, 10 am. RATES OF Passa -cltas, New "York 10 Paris, $105 and upward by all steainers exept La ‘Touraine, ivcluding railway fare to Paris aud land- ing charges. Parlor cor seat ts extra during sw mer season Second-class to Parts, $54.75. A. Fr GET, General Agent, Gereral Office, No. 3 Bowling Green. N.Y. G. W. MOSS, ¥21 Penn. ave., Washing- ton, D.C. jald-ly ANSATLANTIOU FRANCE, sagen Aug. 28, 10 a.m, t., Sept. 4, 10 a.m. MEDICAL. | Dr. Leatherman, specialist in the cure of all special dis- men and women. Consultation tree. 12, 2 to 5, Tues., Thurs. and Sat. to & 602 F nw. Closed on Sunday, In a temple in the secluded village of Ocdwada, India, there burns a fire which was first kindled about 1,200 years ago, and has been burning continuously ever a