Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, December 6, 1902, Page 6

bee VVVVVYVVT VNY VV VV VV VV VY VV VY VVYVVVVVN | A Daughter of the Beach Y KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASN N NX N N NX NX NX A CHAPTER VE. (Continued.) “Do not let us speak of this subject. There are many reasons why it is un- pleasant.” “[ beg your pardon,” responded Pur- ell, looking more keenly at the young man, and not liking the signs of his past life visible on his face. “He may have squandered that mag- nificent property,” the old man thought. Caryl read disapproval-on the old man’s countenance, and he set himself to work to remove that feeling, and few could succeed better in such an undertaking. Before the evening had gone by Puree}! was sure he had misjudged his visitor. Very wisely, Caryl did not pay any @pecial attention to Kate, but his shrewd glance told him that she was entertained. I hope you'll allow me to call here frequently while I’m in the place, Mr. Purcell, ne said, as he rose to depart. “It will give me great pleasure to do 60.” Of course the request was granted, and Cary] went away thinking that the first wedge was entered. Up stairs, in the stranger’s sick room, was the sound of voices as soon as Caryl had gone. The man had been lying quietly, and the nurse had thought him asleep. But when the @oor closed he turned his eyes toward ber and asked, imperatively: “Who has been below?” “I don’t know—some of the neigh- ors, I suppose,” carelessly. No,” raising himself on his elbow— no, it wasn’t one of the neighbors. I wish you’d ask Miss Purcell to come ‘ap here a moment.” Of course the woman could not re- fuse to do as he asked, though she was @ little out of patience with his whim. She thought she could attend to him quite as well. She went down stairs and sum- moned the girl. “You will think me childish,” he aid, with a wan smile, when Kate came to him, “but will you tell me ‘who has just been down stairs with you? You know how plainly one hears through these unplastered walls, and his voice— Well, it cannot be, how- ever,” breaking off, abruptly. “His name is Caryl. He came to this place quite by accident, I think, and the other day he pulled me out of the water when I was so foolish as to fall in.” Kate saw, with surprise, the emotion 4m the patient’s face as he heard her words. At another time he might have con- trolled himself better, but he was weak now. His hot fingers clenched themselves as he exclaimed, violently: “I knew it was his voice—suave and charming! He here! Curse him!,, Kate knew not what to think. She stood in silence, wondering how both her father and this man were so moved at the sound ofthat name. She thought it very odd that every- body should meet in this out- of-the- way place. The sick man was not looking at her mow; he was moving his head to and fro restlessly, while the flush of his face »w deeper and deeper. At last he asked, turning again to the ;: ‘Is he going to stay long here?” “He did not say. I don’t see why be should.” 2 ranger, looking at the girl, eould easly guess why Ralph Caryl might decide to stay—the scoundrel! “Does he know I am here?” was the mext question. “He does not know your name.” “How very strange that both he and should happen here!” repeated the young man again. “I had hoped he mever would cross my path again.” Then there was silence for so long CHAPTER VII. The Buried Paper. -Another week had passed, and that- ters were much in the same condition at Purcell’s house. The low typhoid fever still continued to hold the strang- er prisoner. Richard Burt was in and out as he had been, treating Kate precisely as though he had never made a declara- tion, and succeeding in making her feel more at ease with him than ever before. Ralph Caryl was very circumspect, and had called but twice, though he had managed to meet Kate, apparent- ly by accident, several times in the course of the seven days. ‘When he had, been told the sick man’s name, if he had felt any sur- prise, Caryl did not show it in the least, and Kate almost began to think that the words the stranger had ut- tered concerning Caryl were the result of feverish fancies. “Vance Rothesay,” Caryl had repeat- ed—“it’s a very good name. It seems to me I have known people of all sorts of cognomen’s, but I believe I never knew a Rothesay, did you?” looking up at Purcell. And so keenly was Kate watching him that she fancied the look he gave her father was one of more curiosity than the question warranted; but she was not sure even of that, and she wondered, silently, about the matter, scarcely hearing the discussion con- cerning the Scotch name of Rothesay. There were but two regular sleeping rooms in the little house, and now that Kate’s was occupied, her father insist- ed upon giving up his own to his daughter, and himself occupying the lounge in the front room below stairs. He liked the arrangement, for it en- abled him to leave and enter the house with less noise than if he had to as: that Kate moved toward the door, g he nothing more to say. But ed her, this time speaking on ifferent subject. “The doctor is sure I shall have a fever.” “He is sure you have one,” was the answer. “And how long am I to be laid up?” “He thought you would not get out under a fornight at the least.” The look of pain and impatience in the man’s face was sad to see, and Kate pitied him with all her heart, saying to herself: “He is thinking of the woman he foves.” Presently he asked. “Miss Purcell, will you write a note for me? I had hoped not to need it, ‘but it’s inevitable, I suppose.” Kate brought pen and paper, and waited his dictation. “It is to Miss Lauriat. Just tell her how I am detained, and say that there is no cause for anxiety.” Kate did as she was told, making the letter as short as possible. “address it to Miss Laura Lauriat, No. Locust street, Philadelphia. And will you please see that it is mailed immediately?” Kat bowed her assent, and quickly @ealed the letter, and rose to leave the room, but was stopped by his voice, saying: “Stay one moment!” He extended his hand, and took hers as she came “to the bed. “I have not thanked you,” he said. looking at her with eyes that gave to Kate a momentary envy of ‘Miss Laura Lauriat. She had never seen such eyes before —so deep, so full of a passionate strength and truth. “Do not thank me,” she said, in her quiet, sweet tones. “It is but a trifle for me to do.” “Nevertheless, allow me to feel the pleasure of gratitude,” he responded. She wee her hand, smiling as e answered: 4 mean ot deprive you of any cend the stairs, and he felt the desire for prospecting for treasure strong up- on him again, He had not yet looked at the papers he had found i> that chest; he had re- frained from d’.ng so from day to day, with a sort of hoarding feeling, as one thinks of something precious that is hid away. He had not the slightest reason for feeling thus. It would have been more just had he thought only with a shud- der of that.paper which he had taken from its dreadful resting place. But. slowly and surely, Charles Pur- cell’s mind was growing weak, and he had still a strange notion that near the spot where the skeleton of the child had been found the buried treasure was hidden from sight, and he had a vague idea that some hint of use might be found in the paper. It was after 11 o’clock, and Kate had gone to bed, leaving her father sitting up reading. He had seemed uneasy and restless, frequently asking why she did not re- tire, until she had left him, refraining from expressing any anxiety, for she knew such expressions annoyed him. As soon as she had mounted the stairs, Purcell went to a cupboard and withdrew from it an oaken box, care- fully locked. It was in this he kept his drawings, and plaas concerning the piratical treasure of which he dreamed day and night. He would not allow even Dick Burt to take them. He spread them before him beneath the light of the lamp, and his anxious face brightened as he examined them. “They are title deeds to fortune,” he muttered. “It’s a fact that gold is hid- den here, and I have only to find it. -I can have missed it but by a few feet. Only Jet me have patience! I begin to wish Burt was not connected with me in this business. When I find the money I can pay him what I owe him, and have done with him. He seems to have given up the notion about Kate, and I am glad of it. I do not know how I could refuse him if he persisted; Lut ’twould be hard to compel Kate in a matter like that. Just let me pay all the obligation I’m under to Burt, and tben I’m a free man again.” While he was murmuring thus to himself he was laying out the papers before him on the table, arranging and rearranging them. Among them was the antiquated yel- low book, which had pointed out, as he believed, the spot, near Gun Rock, where he and Burt had found the chest and its strange contents. At length he took up the paper, blackened by the moisture of many years—the paper which had rested be- neath the bones of that mysteriously- buried child. In spite of his preoccupied mind, Purcell could not repress a shudder as he unfolded the manuscript. The touch of it reminded him too strongly of the feeling of horror and disappoint- ment which had come over him when, expecting to see piles of gold, he had found but the withered body of an in- fant. ‘ He was surprised to find so few writ- ten lines, for the paper seemed a sheet of foolscap folded three times; he had thought to see a page, at least of some- thing, either of print or writing. In- stead, there were only a few lines, and it was not easily that he deciphered them, so cramped were the words, and so time-stained and blackened the pa- per on, which they were. But he read eit! at last: “IT am not used to defeat, and I fate to count me its ed This ue was in my way, and here it is. I shall never be found out, and I laugh at what men call justice. If I am ever such a fool as to be discovered, then let mi suffer the fate of a iN tg Purcell read the words again an again, for their dreadful bravado was itrangely For the moment Seas buried treasure, and, consqeuently, he | the tower, the avenue de trees of the had no interest in it. He sat gazing at the paper, and his eyé caught some characters in the corner below the lines, and he made | ing up the app! the figures 1818. If them out to be that was the date, and it seemed like- ly, then the child had been buried for- ty_years. The boast of the guilty man had probably been fulfilled; he must be either dead now or an old man—a very old man, for it seemed impossible that a young man could have done this deed. Purcell sat still, bent over the pa- per, and he did not heed the opening of the outer door and the entrance of some one. It was Ralpiu Caryl, who had been smoking on the beach, and, seeing a light, had made bold to enter. He looked rather astonished at sight of the papers spread on the table, and he wondered where that musty old document beneath Purcell’s hand had come from. His sharp, quick eyes had seen the writing on it—the peculiar, crabbed hand that would be remembered if ev- er seen, and, forgetting that he could have no right to read it, he bent over and mastered the lines in half the time that it had taken Purcell to read them. As he drew back from the perusal his face was very white, and the hand that still held the cigar trembled so that the ashes fell to the floor. Roused now, Purcell hastily huddled the papers together and exclaimed, an- grily: } “How came you here?” It was an instant of perceptible hesi- tation before Caryl replied. Then he said, in nearly his usual voice: “I beg your pardon. I was smoking a cigar on the beach here, and, seeing a light, I took the liberty of entering. I am sorry to have disturbed you.” All the while that Caryl was speak- ing his glance kept wandering towards the manuscript, which was_half-con- cealed by Purcell’s hand. He longed to snatch it away and examine it at his leisure; but he dared not do it. “You did rather startle me, to tell the truth,” replied Purcell, with a forced smile. “I was amusing myself with these papers, instead of going to bed, as I ought.” “I should imagine you were studying geometry,” went on Caryl, determined not: to appear to notice that the old man did not wish to be asked about the papers.. “There seems to be a lot of diagrams and figures among them. I.wonder if you could explain this to me, now,” putting his finger on one of the papers. Purcell alarmed, snatched the pa- pers away, and then proceeded to gath- er them up, thus preventing Caryl from saying anything more concerning the one paper in which he was inter- ested. “Excuse me,” said Purcell, hurried- ly, “but I cannot endure to have my papers touched.” And in another moment they were all locked up in the oak chest. Caryl had no pretext for lingering, and soon left, walking rapidly to his lodgings, his face set, his eyes filled with a look of horror and amazement, mingled with incredulity. ‘When he reached his own room he did not go to bed. He quickly found a Boston paper of that date, and ran his finger down the list of times when the trains left the Worcester depot for a town in Western Massachusetts. “There’s no way of starting to- night,” he whispered. “I can go to Boston in the 6 o’clock train in the morning and catch the 8 o’clock train for Springfield. It’s the best I can do, and why need I be in such a hurry? I’m a fool! But that handwriting could not be mistaken; there’s no other like it. And yet horrible to think of such a thing! I’m not an innocent lamb myself—but that sort of thing is be- yond me!” { With these words on his lips, he had taken up a volume of Voltaire in the original, and turned to the fiy-leaf on which his name was written, together with a few lines of quotations from the author. + + It was in precisely the same hand- writing as that on the paper so strangely come into Charles Purcell’s possession, s “If L could only have asked him where he found it,” murmured Caryl, as he tore the leaf from the book and held it in the flame of a match until it was ashes. “But the old fellow acted so oddly that I couldn’t do it—and he wouldn’t have told me if I had.” Caryl drank a large glass of whisky and then.went to bed. But he was so accustomed to the potation that it did not Induce slumber, and he had only: just fallen asleep when the newly-risen sun, sending its rays across his bed, awakened him. He dressed quickly, went down stairs and announced that business called him away for a few days, gulped down the coffee they gave him, and started for the railroad station, about a mile away. ~ CHAPTER VIII. ‘ Caryl Visits his Home. The bright sunlight of the morning did something toward dissipating the depression that had been upon Ralph Caryl the night before. He hurried along the road that led between the pond and the ocean, find- ing it in his heart to admire the sheen of the ocean—the white sails that stood out like things beautifully alive in the shine of the sun and sky. “I was a bit silly last night,” he thought, lighting a cigar as he strode on; “but ’twas enough to give a fellow a shock. I shan't be éasy until Thave been up home. Still, it is the most un- likely thing that they will know any- thing. However, I'll play the part of a. dutiful son, and g It was toward sunset on that after noon that he was riding in a country stage toward a village nestled among the hills of Western Massachusetts. Carylville had not been intruded upon by railroads, and the traveler was forced to go a dozen miles by coach before reaching the place. ‘taken this journey. What if he had*not seen his mo and sister for two years? His aompe: tie e as to So active tie affections were | E hhave made him miserable at the separ. |" Ralph si he forgot that there was no hint of the] sensation As he came nearer it med and more foolish that ihe shoold. Bare Caryl place in Carylville. It looked just the i Same as ever; but when he left the h and was walk- ich, he saw that ev- erything showed signs of decay. The grounds were a mass of weeds; some of the trees had been cut down; in short, Caryl Hall was very different thts what it had been in his father’s ime. He mounted the steps and rang the bell, something like remorse in his heart that he should have squandered so much. 4 A middlegged woman, the sole re- maining servant in the place, opened the door, uttering an exclamation at sight of “Mr. Ralph,” and he pushed past her, impatient to see his mother. Where are they?” he asked. “In the dining room; it’s just sup- per time,” was the answer. And he went along the well-remem- bered passage to the dining room, which had been grand carved oak and walnut—resplendent with shining sil- ver. The oak and the walnut panelings were still there, but all the other grandeur had departed. Two women sat at a small table at the end of the room. There was an odor of tea and hot cake in the air. Both figures rose as Caryl appeared, be the elder one uttered an exclama- tion. “It is Ralph!” and she came forward to embrace him. -“It_is your long-lost child!” airily said Ralph. “‘Home returned to love and thee,’ mamma. Do I bring joy to your fond heart?” “Of course you do,” was the reply. “But where have you been, and what did make you stay so ?It has been dif- ficult for me to reply to everybody, as if I knew where you were, when I had not the remotest idea. I’ve mentioned Baden, a general remark about the Rhine, and so on, until I was at my wit’s end, and everybody in Carylville inquiring for ‘Mr. Ralph.’ ” “How kind of them!” he said. “I suppose it was all affection and no cu- riosity on their parts. Is that Julia?” The other figure came forward at this, and extended her had, which Ralph took, kissed her, and exclaimed, in real earnest: “I vow, the Caryl’s are a handsome family, Jue! I should say you had im- proved, and there was no particular need of that; you were beautiful when I saw yeu last. Where in the deuce are the men? I should say you ought to have been snapped up long ago!” “Thank you, brother, you are very good,” said Julia, in a quiet, satirical voice; “but men are not so eager to ‘snap up’ a giri without a penny. And then, again, there isn’t a man in this miserable little village.” “You ought to go to some large city,” said Ralph. “You’d find a parti there, without doubt.” “One can’t go to a large city without money—unless you have found the way to do so, Ralph,” was the meaning reply. “Nonsense, Julia!” he responded. “Don’t begin taunting me at the first moment. I don’t set up for saint, and if you were a man, I think you’d not be much better than I am.” “I would go out into the world, at least,” Julia said. ‘ “Come, Ralph—come and have a cup of tea,” interrupted Mrs. Caryl. And please don’t begin sparring as soon as this.” The three sat down at the table, which was very sparingly laid, and when the mother mentioned the fact, Ralph said: “Don’t mention such a thing to me; I’ve been on short rations myself too much lately not to think this is lux, ury.” ry Reckless though he was, Ralph was uot sufficiently hardened not to feel uncomfortable at the thought that intruded itself very strongly here—that it was owing a great deal to his guilti ly-expensive habits that his mother and sister were obliged to scrimp in their daily food. But he allowed none of that feeling to be seen. He gay and chatty, told stories, made the two wo- men laugh, and enlivened them great- ly. “But how did it happen, Ralph, that you went to Europe so suddenly?” asked Julia, looking sharply at her brother. 8 “Don’t be curious, Jule,” he said, with perfect self-possession. “You ought to know by this time that it is not always for fair women to know what brave men are doing. I was ina scrape—that’s enough to know.” “Well, I hope you'll tell the minis ter’s wife the same. story that I did about it, that’s all. "Twouldn’t be pleasant for them to differ in that re- spect.” “Decidedly not! .And if you'll kindly mention ,to me your version of the af- fair, ’ll make it my own.” “Certainly. I said that your health had so far given out on account of the 7 : wish, noble, upright, and all “I congratulate her, most said Ralph, in an int voice. _ ‘ Julia observed, in a softer tone: * “Of course, you could never to marry Marion Ainslie, Ralph; al- though I do think she was rather tak- en with you that summ But she is really a glorious woman.’ “And I am not a glorious man,” with an unpleasant laugh. “Well, we won't discuss the matter.” i When the two women rose to retire, late that night, as Ralph opened. the door for them, after his sister had passed out, he put his hand on his mother’s arm and said: “I want to see you a moment, moth- er. Don’t be alarmed; I haven't got into any new scrape.” Julia looked curiously back, but was obliged to leave them. When his mother sat down, Ralph did not immediately speak. He stood leaning against the mantelpiece, look- ing down on the floor, his face show- ane that his thoughts were not pleas- ant. “Well, what is it?” at last asked Mrs. Caryl. you know where my father was in 1818?” “Why, that is the year we were mar- ried!” exclaimed Mrs. Caryl. “That is true; but I had forgotten it. Where did father spend his time? Can you tell me?” “Bless me,,Ralph!. You ask ques- tions as if you were a lawyer. What are you trying to get at?” “Never mind now; only answer me,” said her son. ri “Where was your father? He was, most of the time, in Philadelphia. I was there at the time, and he was very assiduous in his attentions. You know at one time my father refused his suit, but your father was poor then, Two or three months later he eame into this Caryl property, and then we were married directly. I was such a young thing, and I was so pleased with the dresses, the presents, the journey! Your father was nearly forty then, and he tired of me when my, beauty faded, after you were born, Ralph.” The woman sighed deeply. She had never loved her husband, but he had proved far from kind to her when his infatuation was over. “How did he come into the pfroper- t?” asked Ralph. {‘Tell me again. This place always used to be in the posses- sion of the other branch of the Caryls.” (To be Continued.) The Only Way. “I’m going to study law,” he an nounced. “And practice it?” “Oh no.” “Then why study it?” “Well, I've always been told that 5 man never should sign a document at he does not thoroughly under- stand.” “That. I believe, is generally con- silered to be a good business princi- ple.” “And I’m going to be a thorough- going business man or know the reas- on why.” “Well?” “Well, I’ve just been looking over the lease of my flat, and it occurs. to me that if I study hard from now un- til the first of next May I'll have a glimmering idea what it’s all about when I have to sign another. What the agent told me I was~- signing could have been put in 100 words; what I actually signed amounted to about 2,000 words, badly tangled. I’ve either got to study law or violate a great business principle, unless we at housekeeping and go to board- ing.” That Settled It. A butcher hastened to consult a neighvoring lawyer, whose offices were down town, and to seek advice con- cerning damage done to his window by a boy that morning. “Can I make the boy or his father pay?” inquired the client. ° “You can, certainly,” evasively re- plied the lawyer. “What is the value of the damage?” 9g ‘ “Two dollars,” replied the butcher, triumphantly. “Good! I will write a demand note ~—what’s the name?” “It was your boy,” was the reply. “Oh! Very well,” remarked the lawyer, sitting back in his chair,” you can consider the matter settled. My charge for, the advice is $2.”’—New York Times. The Coal Exchange. He was from Chicago, and was see- ing New York for the first time. Near the bridge entrance he stopped a dis- trict messenger and asked questions, explaining that this was his first visit. ‘have been furnis! la! se fol noe Organiza' society. The lowing is anit tee at the most lugubrious bits of poetry extant: Do you ever think as the Black Hearse passes by That it won’t be long until you and I Goes riding out in a big Plumed Hack And never remember of coming back? Do you ever think as you strive for Gold That a Dead Man’s hand a Dollar can’t hold? You may pinch and tuck, and strive to save, : But you lose it all when you reach the : Price He Seeiac Sut MEER As to the Manner of His Going. “And must I walk the planks?” falt- ered the captive. “Certainly,” replied the smart Cor- ‘sair, with a frown. “You don’t sup- pose I’m going to supply you with an automobile, do you?” | Piracy is essentially, an unprogres- sive industry. It does not respond to the modern spirit—Automobile Mag- ‘azine. pied Sa ee Seas Lost Twenty Yea Kokomo, Ind., Dec. ist——Twenty years is a long time to take out of one person’s life but that was the fate of Anna M. Willis of this place. For twenty years she suffered all the torments of Kidney Trouble, and any- one in that state is not living, but simply existing. Now Anna M. Willis is fully recov- ered. She appreciates the pleasure of living again and never forgets to tell you how it is all because a friend advised her to try Dodd’s Kidney Pills. ‘In speaking of her wonderful cure she says: For twenty years I suf- fered from Kidney Trouble, The dis- ease was terrible in itself and it was all the more terrible because I could get no relief and my case seemed hopeless, “But one day I got six boxes of Dodd’s Kidney Pills and by the time I had taken five boxes my pains had left me and I was a free woman.” Just Resting His Eyes. A Front street jobber is responsible’ for the story of an old man who could not read and who was sitting in his easy chair in his home on a Mississ- ippi plantatiogp holding a paper in his hand At first glance it would have ap- peared that he was reading with more than usual eagerness. He looked straight forward at his paper and seemed completely absorbed. On looking close it became appar- ent that his paper was upside down, and he was asked forthwith why he held it thus. His reply almost knocked the ques- tioner out of his chair. It was: ‘ “Just to rest my ‘eyes.”—Memphis Scimitar. J. W. COLE & C Black River Falls, reputation for the ducts. Cole’s Cough Cure, like Col bolisalve; is standard. If Fees have or cold insist on get All Druggists, 25 and 50 cents. He Feels It. “Does a draft give you cold chills down the back?” asked the philoso- ph It does,” replied the wise guy, “when my bank account is overdrawn.” Cincinnati Commercial Tribune. Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup.’ H For children teething, softens the gums, reduces tne dammation, allays pain, cures wind colic. 25¢ a bottle. No Frills for Him. “What is your husband’s almama- ter?” asked Mrs. Oldcastle. — / “Oh,” her hostess replied, “Josiah ain’t got any. He always signs his in- itials just plain, old-fashioned, without any, puttin’ on.—Chicago Record-Her- ald. unusual confinement of the counting “Yes,” remarked the boy, “dat is der reom that your employer had sent you to Europe to look after his interests there, hoping it would benefit your health.” s , “Capitally done! I'll remember it— and also that my health is much im- proved.” postoffice and dat is der city hall. All de exchanges is‘down Broadway.” “The coal exchange would be inter. esting just now,” said the stranger. “Of course you have a coal exchange.” “Why, soit’nly,” replied the boy. “Can’t yer tell by de tall chimneys we “I never saw you dressed so unlike yourself, Ralph,” went on Julia, who was secretly furious that her brother should have squandered so much mon- ey. “If you have been in London, why didn’t you, get, your coat at Poole’s, and your pantdloons—” : “Spare me, sweet sister!” interrupt- ed Ralph, seeretly annoyed, but deter- mined not to show it. “I am very con- changed hard for soft?”’—-New York Sun. New “Wireless” Triumph. Accounts of another wireless tri- umph are reported. The staff of the torpedo schoolship Vernon, at Ports- mouth, England, has succeeded, after many experiments, in devising a scheme of keeping up communications scious that I am dressed infernally— for me; but, by Jove, I.wouldn’t be if I had the cash! As it is, I am much more preséntable than when I landed. Tm afraid you would not have recog- nized me. But these are ‘ready-made’ clothes, and are despicable. Still. I don’t think the villagets here would know the difference.” “Probably not—and Miss Ainslee is not here now.” Ralph could not keep his counten- ance from changing a little at mention of the only woman he had ever loved; but he said, coolly: — “Miss Ainslee is married long ago, I suppose?” ‘ “No; but she is to be married next month.” “Who is the happy man?” “A Mr. Vernon, from New York—im- See MRE Ie alls OR eased she loves. love by means of wireless telegraphy with submarine vessels when they are un: der water, and so ingenious is the ¢on- trivance that no part of the apparatus used for receiving purposes is visible en the surface when the boat in com- munication is beneath the water.— New York Times. Tat Excuses. Excuses for absence handed to pub- lic school teachers are often calculated to evoke smiles. Here are two that were received on the same day last. week by a teacher in one of the Man- hattan schools: if e Teacher * " Plees ecskus my sun he wuz help his |' muther half a babi to oblige his father. Please accuse my dorter. De atlafattory. Nex ” € eens