Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, April 14, 1906, Page 6

THE bbs BEE 2 Captain’s Double Sc CHAPTER IV.—(Continued.) Ursula rose suddenly and came and stood behind his chair in her soft white dinner frock. It was soft and clinging and filmy to look at, with no other color than the great bunch of yellow flowers at the shoulder and waistband. The young men, watching her, thought she was like a gracious picture. She stooped and put two coaxing arms around his bronzed throat, and the whole party knew then that she must conquer. “Daddy, do be a dear, nice, merciful daddy! Don’t let almost my last memory of you, when I go home, have to be one of your pun- ishing a poor man too severely. He may have gone to get some water” (the boy by the veranda pillar softly hooied, but he did it under his breath, beca although they were old frien he did not wish to abruptly find that old friendship ended.) “Let me remember that the last evening— almost the very last )we spent togeth- er, you gave me what I wanted, though you thought it was silly and unneces- y Col. Hamilton frowned portentious- ly. Any one who had not known it was merely by way of concession to his own dignity might have been alarmed fiereeness. He put up_ both hands and took into them the little fin- gers that clasped his throat. He let his head fall back and he looked up at ‘Do you know what taking a mean advantage is, young woman? If ever | saw an illustration of the words eon my own veranda. Of you know that no generous ym ever pressed their victory! I give in, like the American colonel’s you needn’t shoot, I'll come down. Baverstock may thank his stars Atherton away shikareeing. He’d never give in to your wheedling, whee- ‘ou sver so wisely. Well, well, a elor is the man to command a reg- iment, not a poor, downtrodden wretch of a married man with a daughter.” “And so Baverstock may thank something else besides his stars,” said Capt .Mason. He had got up, as if to zo, for his quick ear had caught what the others had not—the sound of the hoofs of his horse being led into the compound some five minutes ago. “He may thank Miss Hamilton that he is let off this time, anyway.” He would, no doubt, ever guess it.” And then there came good-nights and arrangements for meeting at the ladies’ big breakfast the Daleshires were giving next morning as a fare- well to Miss Hamilton. It was almost her last appearance in Hyzerabad, and the. nted to give her a good send- off, since she insisted on leaving them. re were farewells, more or less se nti mental from all the dinner guests, and then a good-night to be given be- tween father and daughter. When Hamilton’s ayah came to her she sleepy, yet she looked out on the gs dimmed by the moon- light, before she got into bed, and she smiled up at them happily. “I have given a man a chance of turning over a new leaf,” wonder of he will know how near he came to defaulter’s punishment?” Yes, Private Baverstock knew— knew with an amazement that was f suspiciou that the punishment uddenly countermanded; knew geant Herriot’s scowl that he at hi her it is her cou per coon if he could And he was to know more than that before he was done with the matter, for Mr, Tasker, going back to the mess block that night, had wondered with Mr. Quinton over the incident of the evening. “Lucky brute, Private Baver- stock!” he had grumbled. “It makes one wish he had stood in his shoes, to have had Miss Hamilton ask for his pardon. And “Did you ever know the old man to give in to a thing like that before?” had demanded Mr. Quinton. “I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard him tell her Baverstock should not do defaulter’s drill after all. Not but what I don’t think he ought to have been let off for any girl’s asking.” Mr. Quinton’s servant had heard the debate, and went to the barracks next morning bursting with the bit of jocu- lar news. “The colonel’s daughter, Miss Hamilton, had begged Baverstock off, and he warn’t goin’ to do no pun- ishment after all, not when he’d de- served it.” It soon drifted round to Baverstock himself, who totally re- fused to believe it. “You shut your bloomin’ head, and git out,” was all the tude it elicited. 3ut as the appointed hour passed, and still he had only a reprimand to encounter, belief stole slowly into the brain of Private Baverstock—belief and a great wonder. Was it true, then, this absurdity that his barrack room- mates had tried to gag him with? The colonel’s daughter, a girl, had begged him off out of her compassion. Never in all his twenty-nine years of life had so strange a thrill seized him. An unknown girl, a girl he had never set eyes on—a lady, one of the creatures all laces and silks that he saw at the band, or had waited on at teas when he was an officer’s servant—she had held him in compassion. No woman’s influ- ence of any kind that was for good had reigned in the path of Private Baver- stock since his mother died when he was a “rotted little kid,” as he would have told you. It awoke in him a new she said to herself. “I | Ma ‘son when the days are short. By LILLIAS CAMPBELL DAVIDSON sensation, something so strange that it was almost uncomfortable, to hear that some woman in all the wide world had pitied him. Pity, too! From any man on earth pity would have brought an answering curse and a blow, probably. Private Baverstock was not a man to think himself in need of it, or to take it kindly. He had a hand that was often against the hand of other men. He was envied by some for his abilities, which he wasted; for his personal strength and agility; a little hated, too, from the suspicion that he was somehow connected with swells, though nobody could have told how, exactly. But pity he neither had nor desired at the hand of any man. When he heard of this girl’s intercession he swore under his breath, then he grew thoughtful. In the end, he casually and carelessly found out from a native peon where the Col. Sahib, Hamilton Sahib. resid- ed. It was in the evening of the day when the mess had entertained its lady guests and the punishment of a de- faulter had been abolished. It was the Daleshire’s guest night, and the Colonel Sahib was dining at mess. The time was drawing very close for Ur- sula’s departure, and she was, secretly, perhaps not sorry to have an evening at home alone to do the first of her packing. She and her ayah had been turning over drawers of laces and rib- bons, and sorting‘out loot for the ulti- mate share of the ayah. Now Ursula had sent her away and gone into the drawing room to read a little before daddy should be returning. She would not have gone to bed on any account until she had welcomed him back, and sat with him while he smoked his last cigarette. She took a book from the table and sat down under the swinging lamps on the veranda. Sitting there she could be seen from the garden on this side of the com- pound. Some one, hidden stealthily there, had been watching her for the last quarter of an hour. He had just told himself he was a fool, and he had better get back to barracks before “last post” sounded. Then he saw a white figure suddenly come out of the door and seat herself where the bright light fell on it. That must be she, then. They said that the colonel had only one daugh- ter. Surely he had seen this girl be- fore, riding with him’in the early morning, or sitting by his side at the band in the carriage? He had not tak- en the slightest notice, though; he could not remember her. He came a little nearer on stealthy foot, and stood in the shawod, staring. When he had come near enough to see her face, a sudden wonder, a sudden feeling to which he could not have giv- en a name, had seized him. That was she, the girl who had beg- ged him off, the girl who had pitied him! Was it an answering pity that ran through his veins, making the blood feel as if it were changed to wine? What was there in a mere girl’s face to take him so aback, to make him feel as if he were dust before her? Why did a loathing of his life, himself, rush over him? Why, for the first time in all his life did he curse fate under his breath that he was not a gentleman? He clenched the hands that hung by his sides in a sudden pas- sion. What did he want, what did he hope, what did he rebel against, what did he hunger for? He could not have told you. “And so that’s her!” It was his only whisper. He said it to himself, uncon- scious that he had spoken. Did Ur- sula’s girlish innocence and beauty suddenly open before him a vista of what woman may be to man in the land called Paradise? Did he feel the faint stir of a thrill in the touch that is likest an angel’s in this fallen world —the touch of the divinity that is in a good woman? Whatever it was that moved him, it struck him as with a spell of stillness. It was only when she moved at last and stood listening that he shrank back into the shadow, fearing she might discover him. But it was her father returning. He saw her run down the veranda steps and the kiss that passed between them, saw her lead him back, fondly clinging to his arm and looking up in his face, and he brushed the back of his harld across his eyes and lifted his head with a dazed sigh, as if awaken- ing. When a moment or two afterward the moombeams touched the spot where he had stood, they found it va- cant. “And by the way, Bear,” said her father, the morning Ursula was to sail from Bombay, “here’s news from the regiment. That fellow Baverstock you took an interest in has stabbed a na- tive in the bazaar and bolted. He’s posted as a deserter, and they'll hang him if they catch him. You'd better have left him to my tender mercies.” CHAPTER V. “A Southerly Wind and a Cloudy Sky.” The gray day was drawing toward its hasty close, for it was at the sea- The woods beyond the low-lying meadows, with their fringe of alders and nut bushes, were dim and indistinct with creeping mist. The air was so still that a sound carried far and echoed lingeringly before it died away. There was a chill, drear look on leafless hedgerow and sodden grass and chok- ed @itch—the dreariness of the days that are the saddest of all the round year. Through a gate that opened out upon the highroad from a hill slope with a tangled copse behind, a_ girl came slowly and despondingly—she seemed to have reached the point of excessive fatigue. Her hair was loose, and one long tress lay on her shoulder; the riding habit she wore was soiled with mud, and had a rent in the skirt as she held it up. She still clung to her hunting crop, but the horse it had been needed for was nowhere in sight, and she did not seem to have been lately parted from him; she walked with a slight limp, and her face was white. The distant cry of the hounds had echoed over those meadows and copses half a dozen times earlier in the day. Now the sound of yelp and horn alike had died out of the neighborhood, and all was strangely, desolately still. It was Ursula Hamilton’s first experience of the reverses of the hunting field. She had been out with the hounds half a score of times since she had been staying with her cousins down in Dor- setshire. But till now she had had no accident, no misadventure, and she did not take to it with pleasure now that one came. It was all so unexpected, too, as such accidents always are. She had seen an easy gap in the corner of the field they were pelting across. She was a little behind the rest and anxious to make up the distance. Her evil genius had suggested to her that a short cut would accomplish the desired end. So she put her little mare, or rather the mare that was her cousin’s, at the gap, and found it a harder one than she had ever tried. There was a wide, wet ditch on the farther sire of the hedge; she did not see it till she had risen to the leap. Her mount had not seen it, either, or she would have jumped wid- er. The next event that forced itself upon the consciousness of Ursula was picking herself up from the clay with a confused wonder how she came there, and seeing the heels and the swinging stirrup of her frightened ani- mal disappearing through the gate that stood open into the next field. It was in the opposite direction from the one that the hunt had taken that her independent-minded mount had chosen to retire. She crushed down over her forehead the round had that had been dashed over one eye, and she picked up her torn and muddy habit and gave chase. But when she gained the gate she saw a lane outside it, and of her mare there was no sign. The faint, rapidly-dying thud of galloping hoofs reached her for a moment, and then the air was silent and empty of all sound. She hurried back to the other side of the field and eagerly clambered up the bank. Far away, like a bird over the furrows, there skimmed a scarlet coat —the tail of the hunt. Even as she watched with imploring eyes it rose to a hurdle, and then even the last straggler was out of sight. No music of horn or hound came down the gray and misty vista—she was left dis- mounted and alone. The neighborhood was as strange to her as the great Unknown Land itself, and she had not the vaguest notion which way home lay. There was no sun to tell her even the points of the compass, or to give her a guide by which to steer. (To Be Continued.) Unfortunate. A eertain merchant, who is well known for’ his philanthropic spirit, was .approached one day by an Irish- man, formerly in his employ, who made a touching appeal for financial assistance. Said he: “I trust, sor, that ye’ll find it con- vanient to, help a poor mon whose house an’ everything in it was burned down last week, sor.” The merchant, although he gives with a free hand, exercises consider- able caution in his philanthropy, so he asked: i “Have you any papers or certificates to show that you have lost everything by fire, as you say?” The Irishman scratched his head as if bewildered. Finally he replied: “I did have a certificate to that ef- fect, sor, signed before a notary; but unfortunately, sor, it was burned up with the rest of me effects!” Would Have to Be Circumspect. A farmer was standing in front of a large poster near one of the theaters in New York. The bill proclaimed in flaming headlines that “As You Like It” was being played that week. A man standing near our friehd from the country remarked: “Well! Going to take in the show?” The farmer took his eyes off the title, and answered ruefully: “Nope, I guess not. I got my wife along this trip.” Put a Stick in It. Little Mary was anxious to do some- thing for her mother who was ill. So she was delighted when told she could make mamma a glass of lemonade: When the drink was brought it con- tained rather a large sliver of wood. On being asked, rather reproachfully, what that thing was, Mary answered: “Why, that’s the stick. Papa said lemonade tasted better when there was a stick in it.” Enough Commandments. They are telling of an Atcheson, Kan., girl who received a proposal by telegraph. She went to the telegraph office and asked the clerk how many words she could send for a quarter. He said ten, and her answer was: “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes; yes, yes, yes, yes.” Ballade af Easter. , Filed the legions of the cold "Reath the sun's triumphant rap; See, across the kindling wold thow the vernal lights bave play t Heauty burgeons from decay; Glow and glory follow gloom ; Dark ! the bells of Easter sav “ Christ bas risen from the tomb !” Earth, that seems so sere and old, Feels the forcethrill of the May, When the creamy king-cup gold Shall enrich the meadow way; . Even now their lovely lap Bluebirds litt where catkins bloom, While the bells of Easter sap “Cbrist bas risen from the tomb! HIl the children of the mold, Little brethren of the clap, ‘Water-folk, or shy or bold, Hiry comrades, grave or gap, know spring’s summons and obey. Dope !—they bid us give it room Wow the bells of Easter say, “ Christ bas risen from the tomb 1” Prince of Peace, thy promised dav Shall the night of death illume, For the bells of Easter sap “ Sbrist bas risen from the tomb!” Exvov. —Clinton Scollard Story of the Easter Rabbit. Once more the Easter Rabbit has ; Ostara appointed her messenger for- arrived to fulfil his annual mission. Only a day his merry reign will last, and then—such is the inexorable de- | ever and aye.” * * * * * Ages have passed since this simple ecree—he must return to the abode | story was told, the goddess of spring where Santa Claus, fairies, brownies | and other mysterious friends of little | lives in the great Christian festival | of this season (Ostara, Ostern, Hast- folk hold goodly company. With what joyous anticipation pearance at the confectioners’ dows, how many busy little hands have constructed nests of moss and twigs for his reception, or have framed notes of invitation in the most endearing terms to this gener- ous little guest! Ah, indeed, the Eas- ter Rabbit has won the hearts of all, and bids fair to vie even with the ven- erable Christmas saint in popularity. And now he is here, and has no doubt, responded most graciously to all requests and has filled the nests and pockets of the child world to over- flowing with his gayly colored gifts. But who is this cheery stranger, at whose modest knock the doors of pal- ace and hut alike are opened with a hearty welcome? We merely know he is of German descent, but his true origin and significance time has hid- den from most of us, and to lift the veil we must wander back thousands of years into the very heart of the Fatherland. It is still winter; lakes and streams are icebound, and the snow seems loath to withdraw its glistening man- | tle from the bleak and dreary fields. | | er). eager eyes have watched for his ap- | tops of Germany, win- | Yet in the heart of the Pagan mother | is joy; she has heard to-day the note | of a songbird and has seen the wil- lows stretch forth their silver hooded | buds; there is no doubt Ostara, the goddess of spring, is on the way. Gladly she hastens home with the good tidings, gathers her children around her and whispers to them: “The hare of Ostara has been here. little ones. Do you know what that means? We must prepare for the Osterfestival. Father is already in the forest, gathering wood for the fire that shall greet the kind goddess at her arrival.” “But how did the little hare know, mother dear.” “Ah, my child,” said the mother smiling, there was no need of it. My grandsire told me the story of Os- thou art now. Listen to me, little ones, and I will tell you what he said. “Long, long years ago, when the earth was still young, a fearful winter visited this land. Ice and snow would not cease, and man and beast perish- ed from cold and hunger. Ah, how grieved the gentle goddess Ostara was when she looked down from on | services. tara’s hare when I was not older than | | Easter and to Whitsunday. ; er was believed by the Greeks to be has been forgotten, but her name still Easter fires flame on all the hill- and the hare, or Easter Rabbit, with the first tokens of spring, the eggs and the budding wil- low branches, are held in high favor as the symbolic heralds of a higher and spiritual revelation. Welcome, then, thou faithful little messenger! Welcome, also, in this | country! Gladden the hearts of the children with thy bright and varied gifts, and to those who long for a wider vision whisper the good tidings of a new and everlasting life, first proclaimed at the empty grave of our Savior. VARIOUS FLOWERS OF EASTER. Every Christian Land Has Its Special Emblem of the Day. Every country has its flowers espe- cially given to Easter, whether spot- less white or tinted in opal hues like the wings of Fra Angelico’s angels. The entire church calendar may in- deed be counted in bloom from the Candlemas lily in February to the Glastonbury thorn on Christmas day. The Easter flower of two centuries ago for the little English girl was the yellow daffodil, and she bore its gold- en bloom to the service with a glad devotion. It was the Lent lily, and she watched eagerly for the first green blades to pierce the earth, or remembered a bank where it grew in wild profusion and went to seek it there, full of delight when its yellow bells greeted the sunshine. The little Dutch maiden carried hand- fuls of anemone, the first flowers that come after the cold and snow. The Dutch maiden calls it Paas Blumtje, because it blooms at Easter. But the Pingster-Bloem, the flower of Whit- sunday, our pink azalea, is even dear- er, and parties of young people gather | it to adorn the homes. In Italy the day is called Pasquata rosata and the rose is dedicated to its All the countryside flushes pink with blooming roses. In Germany the peony is sacred to This flow- of divine origin, and to have come from the moon. It was thought to pos- | sess great puritive properties and to high and beheld the misery of her | children! Well she knew that before long her reign would begin, and grass and flowers spring up wherever her foot touched the ground, and the air become fragrant with her breath. But, alas! hope had died within the hearts of the people, and she longed to com- fort them. Oh, for a fleet messenger who would spread the news of her coming over the sorrow stricken land, | tell the buds to come forth and the | birds to build their nests and lift their voices in a chorus of joy, and bid men to mourn no longer, but look upon all | these signs and know that New Life | was at hand. “Thus the goddess sighed, but no one heard—no one but the little hare, | who had always been sharp, wonder- | | fully sharp, of hearing. He pricked up his long ears and listened, and then he was off with a bound, and sped through the country as though he had wings on his feet. Soon his message was given to each and all, and when shortly after the goddess held. her triumphant entry in the German lands she was welcomed and honored as never before by the grate- ful people. Yet the happiest of all was the swift footed hare whom fair {hand of the Angel Gabriel, ward off evil spirits when planted near the house. The physician Paeon used it in treating the Greeks wound- ed at the siege of Troy, and gave it his name. All over our country the lily is claimed for Easter, and the name is given to one species which we call Easter lily. This pure white blos- som is noted in early paintings. The lily of the annunciation was always placed beside the madonna or in the and the shimmering purity of its satin ves- ture seems to make it especially suit- ed to speak of that new life that comes from the dark shadows of the grave.—Miss DuBois in the Interior. A Pretty Easter Gift. Gild a small basket, trim the edge with rosettes of white baby ribbon and | fill with white wadding sprinkled with | diamond dust. Blow out the contents of two eggs through a small opening in the ends, gild or cut stars from gilt paper and decorate, fill the eggs after decorating with sachet powder and paste white paper over the ends, gild- ing it, making perforations in the pa- per so that the powder can be shaken out. Place the eggs in basket and send the gift, daintily wrapped in white paper, tied with narrow white ribbon. This is a sweet and dainty Easter gift for some friend. EX-MAYOR CRUMBO RECOMMENDS PE-RU-NA. «My Endorsement of Pe-ru-na is Based On Its Merits.” —fd. Crumbo. 7}D. CRUMBO, E Albany, Ind., w: Oak street: “My endorsement of Peruna is based on its merits. ‘* Tf a man is sick he looks anxiously for something which will cure him, and Peruna will do the work. “*T know that it will cure catarrh of the head or stomach, indigestion, head- ache and any weary or sick feeling. “*It is bound to help anyone, if used according to directions. “YT also know dozens of men who speak in the hignest terms of Peruna and have yet to hear of anyone being disappointed in it.” Mr. Crumbo, in a later letter, Aug 1904, says: ide "My health is good, at present, butif Ishould have to take any more me di- cine I ath fall back on m Peruna.” ror of New tes from 511 E. dated Narrow Escape. “I can cure you, I believe,” said the young ‘but you must drink no coffee— “I never do drink coffee,” interrupt ed the patient “E-r, don’t interrupt me. As I was saying, you must drink no coffee but purest Mocha. You must drink a lit tle of that every morning.” The Resemblance. “When Crittick was discussing my new tragedy with you,” said De Riter, “I overheard him remark that it re- minded him of Shakespeare. Of course, that was rather extravagant, but—” “Not at all,” replied Kandor, “he was discussing the plot. Shakespeare al- ways stole his plots, you know.” Important to Mothers. Examine carefully every bottle of CASTORIA, a safe and sure remedy for infants and children, and see that it > Bears the Signatare of LAY Ue tedk In Use For Over 30 Years. The Kind You Have Always Bought, Of Course. Van Camp—I once knew a man who really enjoyed moving. Flatleigh—I don’t believe it. Van Camp—It’s a fact. You see, ha lived in a houseboat. Mrs, Winslow's Soothing Syrap. For children teething, softens the guras, reduces tn- ‘fdammation, allays pain, cures win colic. 25ca bottle. Helpful. “T’ve been looking for a small man in this department with glasses,” said the old lady. “Well?” replied the new floor walk- er. “Well, I can’t find him.” “Mebbe the glasses you've been look- ing for him with ain’t strong enough, ma’am. Try a microscope.” Foxy Move. “You mortified me to death,” plained Mrs. Richley. “How?” demanded her sick husband. “Why did you tell that new doctor you were in the habit of eating corned beef and cabbage? We never have such, common food as that.” “Well, I want him to fix his charges on a corned beef and cabbage basis.” com- Rubbing It In, Old Skinem—Huh! So you want to marry my daughter, eh? Young Man—Well, I guess that’s about the size of it. Old Skinem—Um—yes. Can you sup- port her in the style to which she has been accustomed? Young Man—I can—but mean enough to do it. I'm not SOS DODDS " ————————