Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, January 1, 1881, Page 14

THE DAILY B PORTRY OF THE TIMES. A Lament. Long ago, when I was younge:, thea I didn't have to ha tle "Rou .d to buy my wife & bonnet every t'me= the fashion changed; Or the latest thin s in stockings, or a new self-acting bustle — I'm deranged. Lovg ago the hand that cl.sped mine had the other clusper hroken, Buying various colored dadoes and French clocks that woulda't go. 1 shall ue'er forget the word thatshe migit just as well hive s osea, namely: “No.” The Fall of a Boston Girl. Bhe was a pretty Suth End girl - All South End girls are fuir — Wit eyes liks diamoads teeth like pear], Red cheeks and wealih of hair, As down the avenue she tri )ped Her dainty feet. so small, Upon the icy pavement slipped *;i.e precty maid did full, Bome gentlemen were standing by And all of them displayed A ot nxiety to try (o give the ma dan aid. Ani when she sad -h- They all were very giad. 3 Bhe thauk:d them as she brushed her skirt And walke 1 off very mad. Yes, mad. *Twas not the falling down Had made h r feel so crim, But that it disarran ed her gown And showe i a nether lim". And whe her walk she did propose b. Lonse leggiusn she did don, They hid the fifty dollar hose, Bhe at that tiwe had on. —Boston Post — Laboriog Under Difficulties. a person to be obeyed simply becanse it was a pleasure to obey her, and this latter faxt would in no degree weaken the former; delicate but perfectly marked eyebrows complete the face, which, framed in rippling bands of deep brown hair, smiles at me when- ever L open my case fo feed-on its contents. Must I confess my weak- ness, or have I not already confessed it? Looking back, I know that I loved her there and then, as I stcod talking in the hushed shadowy hall. Idid not know then why it was that I felt 8o much tender pity for her in her responsible position—I did not know why in addressing her I invcl- untarily dropped my voice in emula- tion of her own soft tones, or why, in meeting her eyes, mins took an earn- est expression, no matter how trivial the subject under discussion. Each day found me hastening to my auxious duties like a school boy to his play, and, whea Mrs. Mason re- turned at the end of ten days and found her darlings on the road to re- covery, thanks to the unwearied at tention of their kind nurse, I awcke to the discovery that I loved dzeply and passionat:ly. No pa sing fancy for & beautiful face was thiz, but all- endaring love, euch as a true man sel- dom feels but once in his life. The days slipped by ali too quickly, until the return of Fred when there was no longer the slizhtest excuse for my daily visits to my patients. Iheard from him of Mrs. Mason’s departure with her family, ard I lived on the hope of future meetings on their re- turn. I hastened my mothe: home a ‘The room was poorly lighted He couldn'’t see, he said, And when he triel to kiss her mouth He alwost lost his head use 'twas open wi ‘e, you ses— Her lips were rosy red— But when he went to kiss that mcuth, His head fell in, instead. —Derrick Baiore and After. Before marriage, With wondrous care, She seeks the mirror And bangs her hair. After marriage, With angry glare, She guhfier slipper And bangs her heir. MY FIRST PATIENT. 8ix years to-day? Impossible! Bat it Is thou b, for yon are thirty-two to- day, snd you were only twenty-six then, John Preston. I never look look back to the year following my twenty-sixth birthday withont an in- voluntary prayer that I may pever havesuch another yaar's trouble and despair to go tarough Six years to-day I teok a temporary leave of my mother, and made my real start in life. “First impressions, my dear boy,” she had said, ‘‘are everything,”—and with my paper cpen on my kaee, left the unending bustle and noise of the big city behind, my mind dwelt in anticipition on the new life before me, and my new sheet dropped disregarded. ; Would my dear father, had he lived, have approved of this start of mine inlife! Should I accomplish, or be unear accomplishing, my desirs to make & name and standing in my pro- week sooner than she wished, greatly to her mystificatinn, that I might not mies cne chance of seeing my darling, for I had determined, short as our ac- quaintance had been, to ask her if she coold care for me enough to wait for one year that I might make a home for her, t> ask if she could consent to brighten the world for me, and me for the world—to give me an object, an aim in life—to render myaelf worthy of her. After a woek of patient wai- ing, I ventured to question Fred. as to Mrs. Mason's movements, assum- ing a would-be air of nenchalence. Oh, they are in town again!” he said. “‘But that pretty governess is not with them"—this with a sidelong glinceat me. ‘‘Mers. Mason said some- thing about family affairs and a run- away match—but that woman does run on no that I can never follow her.” I felt the treacherous blood leaving my faceas Iasked: ““Was Miss Bertram one of the par- ties conceraed in the ranaway match?”’ “I don’dthink 80,” said Fred,*bat I canuot assert anything, because I paid 20 liztle attention to what was said.” My old friend, had you known the hours of misery thoee heedless words would cause me, you would cerwainly, knowing so little, have said nothing, Weeks and months dragged their wea- ry length along, and found me still dwelling hopelessly on the Improba- bility of ever meeting my darling again. Sometimes in my despair I al- moat resolved to write frankly to Mrs. Mason, asking the trus particulars of Miss Bertram'’s dcparture, and statiag my reasons for so doing. But wonld my worldly position justify such a step! Had I any right, euppesing such a thing porsible, to bind a beau- tiful and accomplished woman by a promise which she might not ba called upon to fultill for years? No—better tbat I should endure anything than claim such a sacrifics at the hands of feasion by its means? What kind of people would I encounter in the course of my professional duties, and would any of the ead people con- descend to admit the struggling young doctor into the select circle of their intimate acquaiutance! These and a thousand and one conjectures kept my mind fully occupied during the hour snd half's ride between home and my destination, a picturesque village nestling at the foot of the —— moun- tains. Six months before I should have started with nothing but brisht hopes on my journey, and without one re- gret to shadow my future. As it was —well, it could hardly be called a re- gret, for this country practice might enable me to decide for my ultimate happiness and misery, ivstead of re- maining in town and taking friends’ practice during their occasional holi- aags, as I had been doing for two or three years. It was whileengaged in the last of these undertakings that I had found cause for my present regret at leaving here. Myold friend Fred Hughes, who bad been fortunate enough to step into his father’s prac tice upon his retirement, called on me one morning full of his intended vacation. ““I should be off this day wesk if T oould only gat rome one to look after my patients jost for three weeks. Do you think you could do it for me, old boy?” ““Certxinly,” T replied, “if my mother does not mind putting off her intended visit for a time.” ““Oh, T couldn’t let you do that, you kuow!” *‘Nonsance,” I said, “‘we can go af- terwards, but unless you go now, I know you won't ba able to go later.” “You are a trump!” exclsimed Fred, giving my hand a mighty £queeza, My duties as substitute were not very heavy. One evening a hurried mote was received, requesting Mr. Hughes' immediate attendance at a distant house, and signed ‘M. Bertram ” Fearing something ser- ious, I stated at once, and on my ar- rival found the household in a state of anxious excitement. “‘Mrs. Mason is away and left the children under the cueil the govern- ess, Miss Beriram, and the two younger ones are certainly sickening of some fever,” the housemaid in- iompd me, upon openiag the door. Miss . Bortram, when she heard from my enquiries who I was, came forward to meet me. Shall I drawa word-pictare! Frommy own memory it is 1mpossible. It would be com- posed of sweet hues and nameless graces—the features of a parson form, individuali'y. Bat I havea miniature, and that I can describe to you. | A sweet, peosive, clear, oval- shaped face looks at you with kind, thoughtful haze! eyes, which often look black from the deep shade of heavy lashea—but that is not in the mivia'ure—the mouth is gen'l:ness sud firmness combived—rare combina. tion! Looking atit you would natur- the woman I love. Then a country practice was offered me on most advantageous txrms by one of my father’s old friends. More to please my mother than from any interest I felt in the future, I accepted it, and was now on my way to com- mernce legitimately my professional career. My predeceszor Dr. Black, remained a week with me. “I must introduce you to my pa- tients and some of their little peculiari- ties, for a knowledge of the latter is quite as essential to your success, my buy, as acy diploma in the world.” The evening on which he left me is still fresh in my memory, AsI write, the scent of wood-violets, com- ing through my open window, takes me back to the walk to the station when I bade the kindly old man fare- well. At last, then, I was “the doc- tor;” and during my walk home I ex- perienced much the same sensation as on the occasion of my fizst visit to church alone—an overwhelming s2nse of the importance of the occasion, mingled with a strong desire that no- body should share with me the knowl- ed e of the novelty of my position, Events crowd on my memory as I look back to the first morning after Dr. Black’s leave taking. I was sit- ting over my solitary breakfast, won- dering what the day will bring forth to take me ont of myeelf, when a res- pectable servant-man c~me quickly up the walk, haste visible in every move- ment. “Now for my first patient,” I sald to myself, as he was shown in. “Pleaso, sir, Mr. Talbot says will you step up at once? His niece, Mrs. Freeman, {s very bad with her heart —a swoon I think they called it.” “I will be there as scon as ycu,” I said, looking around for my hat. | “Which is Mr. Talbot’s?” “The large square stone house t'other end of the village, sir.” “Very weil, I will come at once.” Benjamin Talbot is a member of the Society of Friends, and, in spite of his many eccentricities, is as true hearted a man as ever breathed. Though he lives rigidly by the rules of his sect himself, he always readily makes allowaace for others’ laxity, and his views upon things in general are invariably distingnished by the absence of all narrow-minded sectar- ian prejudices. He ci.me to meet me in the hall, his ploasant face clouded with acxiety, and at once burat into an explanatory explanation of matters entirely in- comprehensive to me ““Poor young thing—broken hearted —no wender—journey too much— never ought to have gone—only six months married.” At last, despairing of gaining any | satisfactory inf after all, such a very sma'l part of her | hi e gl im. ~ “Don’t you think it would be bet- ter for me to see the lady at once,” I suggested. ““Yes, doctor, yes. Come this way. But she is better now.” We crossed the hall and entered the sombre and darkened dining-room. At the far end, reclining in a large easy chair, was a lady in deep mourning, who roze languialy and turned as we ally infer that the owner thereof wag came up theroom. The machinery of JANUARY 1, 1881. my heart seemed to catch and stop al- together as I drew nearer and recog- nizea my darling—my lcst love—of whom I had never ceased to dream. Forgetful for the moment of every- thing but that we were once more face to face, I exclaimed— “How happy I am to see you in!” Then I suddenly thought that this must be the Mrs. Freeman for whom I bad been fetched, and the bitter kuowledge that she was another man’s wife rushed across me. I stood mute with misery, while an expression of the most unbounded astonishment croseed her face; and then I remem- bered her abrupt departure from Mrs, Mason’s. Could there be any cause for mystery —for silenceas to the past? I stood waiting. “Have you then met my niece be- fore, Mr. Breston!” said Mr. Talbot, sharing the surprised expression on her_ face. “No,” I stammered. ‘‘Thatis, I thought ” then, sesing she was de- termined not to acknowledge a pre vions acquaintance, I recovered my s:1f-possession by a desperata effore. *I mistock Mrs. Freeman for some one elge,” I said, bowing. “‘She will excuse my mistake—indead the like- ness itself is sufficient excuse; it is marvellous!” She never flinched, but with the old lumet smile, held out her hand, say- ng: ““I wishI could claim old acquaint- ance; it is always £o0 pleasant to mest unexpsctedly; but, as it is, I hope we shall soon be good, though not old friends.” I bowed—words would not coma just then—this perfection of action as- tonished me 8o that I became absolute- ly silent. I took her hand, glad of the few moments respite, while I felt her pulse. “She arrived only last night,"” said Mr. Talbot—*‘has been traveling, al- moat without stopping, a long distance and I expect has over-exerted herself. Oh, Mary?” “‘Strain on the nervous system,” I muttered through my parched lips. Quietness, rest and tonics will be won- ders.” Then, rising in a helpless way, I bade them good morning, and groped my way out of the house. “Oh, heaven,” I cried,i : the anguish of my heart, “why am I thus made the playihing of fate?” 1 felt myself reeling, as the full misery oi my position rushed across my mind, and instantly caught at the railings of the houss I was psssing to save mysalf from falling. “Jonn Preston,” called a cheerful little cracked voice from the other sida of the hedge, ‘“whatis the matter? Are you going to faini? Don't stand there in that dazed way—come in.” So saying, the rector’s sister, a kind little spinster, who had counstituted herself my mother’s deputy since the first night of my arrival, took me by the arm and led me, like the child she pretended te think me, into her own little sanctum. She insisted on my drinking a tonic, and began chafingmy temples and hands vigorously, hold- ing forth all the time on the dreadful inconvenience of my being ill. ““Just now of all times, when there is a charming young widow staying in the village, too! Why, at the very moment yougainted outside my gateT was planning a nice little tea party for the express purpose of introducing you to Mrs. Freeman. She is a most charming creature, I believa; and to be a successful doctor, you know, you ought to be——"" *“What do you mean,” I exclaimed, catching both her hande, and fixivg my eyes egerly upon her tace. ‘‘For neaveu's sake put an end to my misery! Is Mrs Freeman and this widow you wish me to marry the same person! For pity's sake, don’t keep me in suspense!” And in my excite- ment I alinost shook the little woman. ““Why, bless the man I believe he’s mad! Yes, of course, its the same. Do we have 80 many charming widows at this out-of-the-way place that there should be two at a time?” I jumped up and astonished the dear old sonl by fairly hugging her, and exclaimed in a voice of deep thankfulness— “Thank heaven—oh, thank heav- en!” “Dear me, dear me, what can you be 8o thankful for?” she said, looking more bewildered than ever, as she set her cap straight after my uncouth car- ess. Here waeadilemna! My darling— I might call her so now—evideotiy wished our previous meetings to re- main a thing of the pas:; so I stam- mered something, indistinctly, about bram fever, and changed the sonver- sation by asking how long Mrs. Free- man had bzen hera. “Only came last night., I have not seen her yet, you know. She married poor Ned Freeman—a rana- way match, the only son of Mr. Tal- bot’s only sister. Ho was a shocking young scapegoat, and went off to the diamond fields with his young wife.” “‘How long has he been dead?” I asked. “I don’t know how long; but I think he must have met his death in some disgraceful mauner, for Mr. Tal- bot never speaks of him voluntarily, and if his name is mentioned, he only saya, ‘Poor Ted, poor Ted!” Enoungh to break herheart, poor young thing!” ““Well, Miss Golding,” I said brisk- ly, “I must not stay here talking scandal one minute more.” So, thank- ing her warmly for her kindness, I set off, leaving her still in a state of con- siderable doubt as to my fitness for at- tending to other ailments. With what intense relief I found myself once more in the solitude of my own little home, and sat down to think over as calmly I could the events of the morning. My love was here, near to me and free. I questioned aught as to her autecedents, ‘her life since we had first met; she was free for me to woo and win if I could. My love swallowed all prudent scruples, all worldly wisdom, at one gulp, and there ;remained but the one fact that there she was; and I res lved to risk all to win that one love of my life. Some short happy weeks passed by; we most frequently, and I felt that the pleasure of these meetings was mutual. The little note signed **M. Bertram” was my most precious pos- session. ““Mary Bertram”—I had al- ways seemed to know that that ““M.” meant ‘‘Mary.” How long ago that morning appeared! What a lifetime of wretchedness I had lived since then! Yet, in the midst of my happi- ness, a keen pang of dissppointment would cloud it for s moment at some indefinable change in my darling’s character. The old steadfastness was wanting, the atrangth of will I had so much admired. and in its place thers was s reliance on others which Ishould have thought impossible in her; the very thought seemed disloyal, and with an impat.ent sigh I resolutely stamped it down. Ona morning, on calling on Mr. Talbot ou parish business, and finding he was expecied home every minute, I was shown into the dining-room to await %is return. Mra. Froeman was inthe garden. How lovely she locked iu the bright June sunlisht, as heavy blick dress, she stood by a Jarge old-fashioned ross-bash, reach- ing up to pluck some wite cluster roses which hung almos: beyond her reach “Wait nne moment, Mrs. Freeman; let me help you,” 1 called out, exult- ant at the proepact of a few short mo- ments’ tste a-tete, and sprang through the window on the open lawn. **How do you do, Doctor? T want some of thuse white roses for my v.828. Tuank you. How plassant it must be to be =0 tall and strong}” “Yes, when it znables me to be of the slighte:t sarvics to you,” I =aid, and then I hated mys If for the cox- combry of ths speech. ““Ah, yes,” she replied, quietly avolding the compliment, ‘‘to be of service to those who want help must be the noblest use of strength.” “You should know that feeling well,” I s:id, my mind full of her un- selfish devotion in those former days of our acquaintance. : ““Why? [ have never been of service toany one; on the contrary, I have always been an anxiety to every- body."” Would she, even when alone with me, watain that barrier of reserve about the past? “And indeed it seems asif I am to continue 80 to the eud of the chapter; for when every one thought they had got rid of him, here I am in less than a year back again, as dependent as ever, and this time upon my hus- band’s relatives. Oh, dear, I wish I was strong-minded enough to face the world and work for a living for a time."” “Why should you fesl dependence a burden,” 1 blurted out, “while I ——." The dignified astonishment ]on her face stupped me, and I com- pleted my sentence by adding, ‘‘even I, great strong fellow that I am, have beeu dependent on my mother until a few months since.” ““Ah, a mother is so different!” she said, 2 toucning sadness creeping into her voice. ‘‘Inever knewmy mother.”’ I felt a passionate longing to take her into my arms and ask her to let me fill the void, to tell her my love was vast enough to supply all defic iency, to satisfy every want of affection she hid ever feit; but the rebuke con- veyed by her manner after my last outbreak restralued me, aud 1 tcok refuge to the universal topic, the weather. **‘Ah, yes!” she eaid in reply to my remsrk on the storm of the previous night. “But you never have a real storm here; you shounld see as I have seen in Africa, when I was at those terrible diamond fields.” “Were you nervous§ Did you not long for home and civilization?” “Home!” sho exclaimed, turning upon me with flashing eyes. My home was in my husband’s presence, and his love was my civilization; my cnly nervousness was when he was cruelly taken away from me.” She hid her face in her hands Her sorrow maddened me, and I was jeal- ous of the dead. To my relief, Mr. Talbot’s cheery voice called to me from the window. Ibent down toher and whispered: “‘Forgive me, dcar Mrs. Fr-eman; I woald rather give ten years of my life than willingly causs pain.” “I am awful silly, ehe said, smiling through her tears; ‘‘you have done nothing to need my forgiveness, Make haste in, or uncle will wonder what we are talking about.” I silentiy pressed the little hand she held out tc me, and left her standing by the rose bush. I fear Mr. Talbot was somewhat dissatisfied with my argumenta that morning, my thoughts were so far afield. At last, with an impatient eigh, we adjourned the discussion, and with a weary heart I took my leave. Alas! poor mother. September came, touching the trees with wondrous warm tints of beauty, and found me still alternating be- tween lope ana fear. My darling scemed to nvoid meeting me alone now; yet som:times she would smile 80 bright & welcoma at my coming as literaliy to intoxicate me with hope. One evening a country lad came for me harriedly—‘“Some one is ill up at % t’house, and have frightened t'master awful.” It was not until we stopped at Mr. Talbot's that I discovered for whom my services were required. *‘Mrs. Freeman, the housekeeper, said, ‘‘received a letter this evening— » foreign letter—and after opening it she fainted away; no sooner did she recover from one faint than another succeeded; so I thought it best tosend for you sir, as her heart has been so bad lately.” Why did I seem to feel an icy pang atmy heart! What was this fear that was creeping over me like tne shadow of death, shuiting out all light an joy from my life forever? Resolutely crushed my own feelings, and asked Mrs. Price if she knew the nature of the communication Mrs. Freeman had received. “‘No,"” she said, ““no one doss—not even the master himself. We have been too busy attending to Mrs. Free- man to think of anything else.” Quietly I followed her up stairs to where my darling lay ss white as the pillow beneath her. Mr. Talbot was sitting at the head of the bed, looking miserably ‘worn and anxious. Mra Freeman's eyes were unnaturally large and bright, and the painful catching of her breathat oncs cenvinced me of her critical condition. “Oh, Mr. Preston,” she exclaimed, when I entered, “I am so glad you are come. They won’t let me speak —and [ must tell some one or I will go mad. It is all quite clear now; he is coming back to me without suspi cion or blame, my own Ted, my dear husband. hear of my happiness—you have al- ways been 80 kind.” ““Of course,” muttered Mr. Talbot, springing from his chair—‘‘the letter —Ted’s writing,” and ha hurried, from the room. I kaow you will be glad to | And I, lcoking at the sweet face before me, saw tha: a close stru, between life and death was at haud, and feeling all tha happy hopes of the last few months fading with cach word, I answered quietly— ‘“‘Your happiness must always be of interest 0 me, my dear Mrs. Free- man; but you must let me talk to Mrs. Price a lit-le now, while you try to gt sume rest.” Haring told her naws, she seemed more ccniented and quiet, and afrer some few directions, I went down stairs, feeling as though I had lived life in that quarter of an hour of deep, bitter sorrow, but datermined, heaven willing, to fight and overcome this love which had now become a sin. Mr. Taibot was standing in the din- ing-room, a letter in his 2snd, and his face radiaut. ““Read that, John Preston,” he said, pushing it across the tabls; “you have been a grea: comfort to the poor thing in her trouble—'tis but right you should shure the rejoicing " “This le:ter is addres ed to Mra Freeman,” I 84id—“I would much rather not —" “Non:ense, nonsense,” exclaimed the old mau— ‘read it; 'tis bat a few woreds.” Slwly ard relactantly, as though about to strike my own death-blow, I took the sheet from ita flimsy envelope and read: My OwN Dear Wrre: Virtue for once is_triumphant, and vice hideth its head. James Burton has been taken and couvicted of murder; and, considering that he might as well be hang for a sheep asa lamb, he has confessed his share oi the Buliss Creekrobbery, and completely cleared me; 80, my darling, I am only waiting to realize, and then for merry Eug- land snd yoursweet face. Love to Uncle Ben. Tell him I shan’t want to run away from him and the miil any more. I've had enough of rov- ing too last all my life. Juat tims to save the mail. How Ilong to see you. Your devoted husband, Epwarp FREEMAN. I placed the letter in its enveloge again, and laid It on the table. I never see a foreign envelope even now without a vivid memory of the misery I then felt. Mr. Talbot, talk- ing to bimeelf in disjointed sentences, waa pacing the room in too excited a state to notice my abstraction. “So the boy’s coming back to live like a christian ia the land of his fathers! Ah, I knew how it would end! Puorgirl! She always said it would come rignt. Well, John Pres- ton, isn't iz great—isu't it grand? Now you know why we have never talked of poor Ned Thank heaven the diegrace is wiped off the old man! How about my littls girl up stairs, eh? Ah, wel!, she'll have another doctor soon—Ned will soon pat her right! You don’t look at the thing. Have a glass of wine? No?! Then stay and eat some dinner with me. Well, you know best;” and 8o the hospitable old man literally talked me out of ear-shot. Oh, fool, dolt that I had been, blindly to accept that view of matters which pleased me most, without as- suring myself of the truth of waat I heard! Ah me, I was punished now for my credulity! For many nights 1 went to my sleepless bed cursing my face, hating my kind, and wondering why heaven dealt so hardly with me, until everybody asked, ‘‘What has come to Jchn Preston lately? He looks quite an old man,” The agony of those few days lined my face and bent my back more than ten years' work would have done. Strive as I would—and I did sirive—my fate was too heavy for me. The daily visits to Mr. Talbot’s tried me almost beyond en- durance. When Mrs, Fresman awoke from the stupor which had succeeded the excitement, her only inquiry was 88 to the.arrival of the mail, and I sat quietly by and listened and I felt as a murderer in my heart. I must have broken down if this had lasted much longer. Once more I wearily dragged myself into the presence of that other man’s wife whom I still loved. On this occasion she was better, and, with a hard set smile, I listened to her rap- tures on the prospect of Ned's speedy arrival, and my poor breaking heart kept time to the music of her voice, as I held her hand in mine, and re- eolved to find some one to take my practice for a time, that I might go away and fight against my weakness myself. As I listened hszily to her little purs of delight I heard, as in a dream, an echo of her voice in the hall below, and my poor worn out brain endeavored to argue that I must be ssleep and in the land of dreams to hear her thus in two places at once. I passed my hand wearily across my forehead and determined to leave on that day, for surely my rea- son must be giving way to play me such tricks “Are you feeling well this mora- ing}” she said, cbsarving my action. The personal question—the neces- sity for reply—roused me. “‘Yes, quite well, thank you.” I could :tpeak—then I was really awake. Could it be that I was going mad? Suill that echo came nearer and grew more distinct. ““Who is that I hear!” I at length asked, fearing she might tellme it was n.body, but only my fancy. The nandle of the door turned asshe answered merrily— “QOh, don’t you know?! Haven't you seen my double? That is my sister, my twin sister, Maud; let me intro- duce you.” Then as I turmed, I saw alady standing in the doorway as in a frame —a lady the sight of whom set my blood rashing through my veins like a mill stream. Did my ayes play me false? No, it was impossible! Then as I turned to the bed again, in mute astonishment, the whole truth flashed (ICI’D!! me. *‘Is it not a romarkable likeness?” said Mrs Freeman, laughing merrily. My heart gave a great bound of joy a3 I stumbled across the room to meet Miss Bertram, who came forward, with the old sweet, firm smils on her | face—what a dolt I had been!—say- mng— “I am 80 pleased to meet youagain, | Mr Preaton.” | “D, you two perple kncw each othe:?” asked Mrs. Frecman. She must have understood some- thivg from our manner, for she ceased abrapily. As I stood there holding her hand, } tracing all the strength of will and GARPETINGS. Carpetings| J. B. DETWILER, - Carpetings| —— Old Reliable Carpet House, 1405 DOUGLAS STREET, (ESTABLISE Carpets, Oil-Clot BET. 14TH AND 15TH ED IN 1868) hs, Matting, Window-Shades, Lace MY STOCK IS THE LA Etc. RGEST IN THE WEST. Curtains, I Make a Specialty of WINDOW-SHADES AND LAGE GURTAINS_ And havea Mats, Rugs, Stai Fu!l Line ot r Rods, Carpet- Lining Stair Pads, Crumb Clothes, Cornices, Cornice Poles, Lambrequins, Cords and Tassels {all, or Address Steam Pumps, Engina Trin BELTING HOSE, BRASS AND IRON Iz fact Everything kept in 4 First-Class Carpet House. Orders from abroad solicited. Satistaction Guarantecd John B. Detwiler, 0ld ReliahlaCarpet House, OMAHA, DOUBLE AND SINGLE AOTING POWER AND HAND PUMPS mings, Mining Machinery, FITTINGS, PIPE, STEAM PACKING AT WHOLESALE AND RETAIL. HALLADAY WiND-MILLS, CHURCH AND SCHOOL BELLS A. L. STRANG, 206 Farnham Strast Omaba, Nab HENRY HORNBERGER, STATEH AGENT FOR V. BLATZS MILWAUKEE BEER | In Kegs and Bottles. Special Figures to the Trade. Families Supplied at Reasonable Prices. Office, 239 Douglaa Rtraat. Omaha wondering each moment more and mere at my own stupidity, in the sc lence of jiy too deep for words, there was a sound of wheels. They atopped at the gate, and Mrs. Freeman started up, exclaiming— ““What is that?” I hastily crossed the room to close thedoor, fearing any excitement, but it was too late. “Where is she—where is my bird- ie?” aloud, jolly voice called out. A painful cry of “Ned, Ned—my dear Ned!” came from the bed, and a big broad-shouldered bounding up the sairs. I made way for him, and then we two went out and quietly closed the door; their joy was too sacred to be intruded upon. Then silently I drew Maud to a deep window seat, and imbued with the spirit of time, in hurriea whispers I told her my tale of love and sorrow. She listened in silence until a pause occurred, and then, looking up, she asked, quietly— love, and not my sister?” “How can you ask such a ques- tioz?” I exclaimed. “I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and then when Isaw your sister I loved just that part of her which seemed to be you.” ‘‘And the other,” she asked, with a merry smile. “Well, I just wondered, and was dissppointed at the change; but tell me, slaud, do you thinkyou can ever care for me?” Sbe raised her fearless, trathful eyes to mine, and aaid: “I have slways cared for you, John." I am ashamed to say that Mr. Tal- bot, who appeared at that moment, looked highly dalized atour next proceeding, until I explain:d matvars in as few words asI could. When I came to my mistake, he exclaimed— “Why, bless my heart, if Ned had been dead, as you thought, you might have married the wrong woman!”"— which was a view I bad taken of the matter before, and that struck me as being unpleasantly probable “Well, Maud,” I eaid, as we sat that eveningin the twilight so dear to lovers, “‘you are not goiug to make me wait for years tor happices in deciding how lopg you want to make yourself magnificent—and let it be soon, dar- ling. I shall never fcel sure of you until you are indeed my wife.” So it was settled that there was to be a wedding on that day month; bat | the wediing festivities and the five | years of true, brizht happiness that | have succeeded them must be imag ined. To day is, as .+ have said, my birthday, and thatabsurd wife of mine | has insisted on a gathering of old friends. So my d-ar mother and Mrs Masgon, and Fred. Hughes and his young wife are coming to-day to eat their dinner with us. And,as I fellow came ‘““Are you quite sure it is me yon! self-reliance I had missed in her sister, | Write, I see coming down the village | street, my wife, holding our oldest boy | by the hand; and must close my desk | to play the host, for by my side I see | another of my birthday guests=—My ! First PatieNt oF CuristyAS Eve. i am—————— WROUCHT IRON FENCES. Wire Fencing and Ralling » Speciality. Their heauty, permanence snd economy daily working the extinction of ail fencing cheap material. Elegant in design, indeatructible Fences for Lawns, Public Grounds aud Ceme- tory Plate. Iron Vases, Lawn Settees, canopled and of rustic patterns; Chalrs am every description of Tron and Wire ornamental work desfuned ami manufactured by E. T. BARNUM’S Wire and ren W rk, ©7, 20 and 31_Woodward Ave , De- troit, Mich. Sepd ¢ » 1VGatwat vl ~gtalogue and price list sep24 8 week tn your own v »'Bfi Murfit fres. Address . rortland, Mo ‘1erms and Hallott & Co., STOMACH TE 3} Thers fa no_civilized nation in the w, Hemisphere in which the utility of n,.‘,‘w a¢ St mach Eitrers COTFYCtIve, a1 gy own and 8 i Whle it is & med Al sean p.‘"',’;; ed. climates, I in epecially suited to the oy gyl generated by the weather, being the py, oy 18 rest vegetable stimulant e | For sale by Uruggists f o TWO DOLLARS WILL SEoppg THE WEEKLY BER One For Year. 1 tor Hostetter's Alms t v