The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 27, 1901, Page 9

aked his feeling in conven h the at day I am the only Mars bleeged to tell He cayrn’t never Dee en dem. asked Moncure. alf raised herself and »se to her blood the Mars Lee e. You the one livin® dat tur'ble night at Moncure's throat He leaned down over paw's or nam s "bo aught wn to tha s here,” she sald. “I done de bes’ I could, Mars Nel, d ter die. It's all dah— Mars Lee done it.” g s were trembling as he rorner of the husk mattress sofled and crumpled r. It was tied with string, glance showed him that the un- writing was yet Jegible. He thrust package into his pocket. “Tell me yourself if you can,” he said. The pallor was creeping over the aged face, and he e fear 2 drew out a versed anter and fe poured out 4 it up, drop- r to watch CON'L HE knew that the end was not far off. He searched among the simple specifics he had brought, and gave her a spoonful of diluted brandy. It strengthened her and she went on hurriedly, as if fearful she could not fin- You know I belonged to Mars Lee's paw, Cun’l Jamison. De time Miss Zeula was borned he were 'way down to Orleens an’ ole marster 'tended her. I were dar, too. Dey was like brothers— al'ays ridin’ an’ fishin’ togedder. When he knew it were a bad case, he mighty anxious for Cun’l Jamison to hurry'n come back in time. But de roads wuz bad an’ had no bottom at all, an’ he never do it. De las’ night, he fotch me ovan wid him an’ he stay de whole night in de room. “I scroutch down car by de do’ an’ I hearn her sa¥, so sof’ an" weak: ‘Doctor, it's eithah me or de baby!' an’ he say, FALL LAK A LOG’ ‘Yes.’ tec go! An’ she say, ‘Den It mus’ be me An’ he don' say nuttin’, den, but I hear he walk up an' down an' groan awful an’ say he carn’t mek up he min’ an’ Cun’l Jamison done got fer come. But he don’t. Oh, Mars Nelt, it were terrible. I was dar when de baby was borned, but de pore 'oman she never know nuttin' no mo’. Mars Lee he leave de baby ter me an’ he icsu walk up an' down an’ he wring he hands.” She paused a moment to gather breath, Moncure's fingers were clenched tightly, “An’ den, 'bout a hour a'ter, In come de Cun’l, all ovah mud whar he been ridin’ all night an’ all day ter git dar. An' w'en he see dat she was dald—he rave tur'ble, an’ he take Mars Lee by de arm an’ he say, ‘You let her dle! You hound! Zou dog, you!' He don’ know what he sayin’ “tall. “An’ den Mars Lee he say it was eithah her or de baby, an’ she choose her chile to live. An' Cun'l Jamison he strfke him furfous an’ he call him murderer an' he tak’ two pistols outen de draw'r an’ he say, ‘I give you de chance ter die hon- orable,’ he say, ‘even if you is & cur an’ de murderer of meh wife!' Den dey ¥o down afi’ out de door to the wagon, an’ I followed ‘em. Mars Lee he didnt wanter do it. He was whiter'n a sheet. But he go. An' den Je Cun’'l he hole up a white hankcher, an' he say, ‘W'en 1 drop dis, you flah at me, you murderer, you!” Bo he drop it, an’ he fire heself. Mars Lee he shoot up in de a'r an’' de Cun’l he miss. Den he go crazy an’ he call Mars Lee thief an’ sneak, an’ drunk- ard an’' one other name. Mars Lee he say, ‘Nobody never could call me dat, by God!” an’ he flah jest onct, but pore Cun'l he fall lak & log an’ lay still, an’ den Mars Lee he drap on he knees an' he cry lak er baby.” The last words had come brokenly and \ with difficulty, and Moncure once mors gave her stimulant. It was almost over. “Den Mars' Lee an' me we done cyar'ed de cun’l's body back to de houge an’ lay him down by de pore daid missis an’ ev'y body always say how Cun'l Jamison so crazy ovah he wife dat he dcne gone an’ shoot heself thro’ de head frum grief. Mars' Lee he say to me, ‘Never leabe de 1l mill, an’ I guine tek care uv her, an’ guine erway, too.’ He go up Norf an’ I fever see him ergain, but I know he done give de money lef’ in trust fer Miss Zeula She never know nuttin’ erbout it. She ruvyer—know—nuttin’. I .nuvver guine ter tell till T heard how ole marster's own son guine ter marry Miss Zeula. An’ den 1 know | done got ter tell—en you is de on'y one I kin trus'—you is de—on'y one, Mars' Nelt!™ Moncure stood looking Into the face of the old servitor, whose eyes he had closed. It was long past midnight. He felt the blood quicken In his veins with a throb of exultation, It was his, then! The marriage should never be. He could have laughed aloud, even iIn that presence, and he grasped the crumpled papers as a miser hugs his gold. Zeula would belong to him. Then all at once he trembled. What was he to do this thing? It seemed in that instant as'if his own heart was a deep pool in whose depths he could see evil waiting shapes. craftily moving. He drew his breath sharply. He knew the devil of his own self was tempting him. He could burn the paper, say nothing and all would be as before. Aunt Judy would never tell it again. Lee was as innocent of the past as he himself. Had this one fact the right to lift itself between these two lives? Should he rear itwith his own hand? Should he? Dared he? Why not? Why not? Such a marriage was unnaturai—hideous. It should not be. It was his duty to tell it! The lurking tempter laughed aloud at this and he sprang- up, pacing flercely back and forth over the cabin floor. He imagined Zeula's face as she read the scrawled sheet of pa- per. He could see It turn white and her eyes contract as her hand went out against her lover—against Lee, his rival, the man who stood between him and her— ‘the man she loved now, but would hate— hate—if she only knew. He grew suddenly afraid of his own self and of the shadows, afrald of the still \2L10 bury, figure that lay so quietly now. Living, he could have cursed her for giving up her secret. Now it was his to smits with The winanw pane was powdered with faint stars. The moon had set. Could he ever walk under the sky again and feel clean? Could he ever look Zeula—could he ever look other raen In the face if he did this? Should he not wander shame- faced always? In that act should he not malim his own soul? He glanced suddenly at the clock. Four hours had gone by since he had first bent over that scrawled record. Four hours, and it was Christmas Day. Somewbere the dawn was just breaking over the world, a day of rejoicing; a little” while more and it would break over the house which was s0 soon to be the scene of Joy. He felt cold, and poked the charred logends into the center of the fireplace, bending over the embers for warmth. A violent shivering caught him and he knew he was tired and numb. Then he drew his chair nearer and gazed at Aunt Judy's face. It seemed to have acquired a new and consclous dignity in those hours. How many long years she had carried that se- cret! Tt had cost her a struggle to tell it. Only death and that sense of stren- uous family blood and unforgiving feud which the black fearns from' his white masters had dragged it from her at the last. It was the sacrifice of what was dearest to her—the happiness’ of her charge, in whom her whole life had been bound up. But she had done it. He had come to look at life trom a broader view- pdint. The feuds of petty human pas- sion and their inevitable train of dis- aster seemed a hateful thing. She had acted according to her light. Should he be less noble, more base, than she? Was his love for Zeula such a poor, lttle, selfish thing, after all? And In that time that he sat moveless and pondering, something new and stronger grew up inside the selfishness that he had crushed down; something beautiful and green-leaved, that carried a perfume and a promise. At length he rose slowly, went to the door and threw if open. As he stood a faint, rosy tint crept up in the east. It was morning. He ran bareheaded to the low, lean-to stable. The horse he had ridden the night before whinnied gently as he Jed her out and looked at him in- quiringly. The morning air was chill and frosty and nipped his fingers as he tore a leaf from his pocket tablet and searched ZAN for nis pencil. He' wrote, laying the paper against the saddle flap, in lines cr and uncertain: Have been called away. you. A merry Christmas. All happiness MONCURE. He addressed It _to Zeula loose thong to the pommel the animal smartly he watc briskly off toward home. Then, w bent down and hands thrust deep pockets, he re-entered the cabin. He drew down the window bl way and blew out the smoky lan he set the littla k before h table and thro The morrx splendid brightness. outdoors and crept into the Two or three of the col on the door. E: fetly tened a It painted the whola was dead and the but enough At door he back Inte the ro paper from his the 0 a ecrac cénter of the red seized the edges instantly mass, reaching out hungry tongues for his hand. He watched It shrivel and blacken, turn to fire and fall broken ash him. As he smiled and back his head with a gesture of & and confldence. Then, closing the cabin door behind him, he set out on his long walk over the znowy road. On the rising slope of the last hill he Far in the dis- crawling to its des- n pla away to white and A sense of trlumph was tn he rose threw ength ation road. train e sta passed the tance grew th tination. On tk group of shifting figures In bright col Some one among them sighted the stand- ing form on the slope and waved a signal. He fluttered his handkerchief. A wom- an’s gray-coated figure ran from the edgs of the crowd and waved both ar the train came in. Colored Butter Qill Ruin Your . Complexion. FOULD you have a beautiful skin? W Then you are to avoid saffron Va4 B i orm was colored butter. This a from no s an authc Dr. H. W. Wiley, ch chemistry the United States Depart- ment of Agriculture. Food adulteration in {ts relations t6 public health has £ of the division of ears special investigation been a subject of this by expert arning against butter of deep hue has Dr. Wiley to the Hundred of which he is president. The “lub is to promote longevity. been given by Year Club. object of the The de too, has sou ed a warning in regard t0 a more serfous adulteration. Mineral s for adulteration by unserupulous manu- facturers of canned foods contribute to an alarming ex > apoplexy, with which thousands are stricken each year. Esth to what look Ifke must in rificed, we are told, if our women wo kave beautiful complexions. Th tle butter used in this country w not contain artificlal coloring m butter which comes on the most tious as well as the most humble table | lor totally unlike that of product when It comes It is often of a deep phase of food only used ts co ent t ideas s sho a large measure be sa 1s 1 as a rule, of a e the dalry from the churn. fron color. The best natural dairy butter is of a delicate light vellow,or cream tint. It is only in the spring, when cows are first turned out to- pasture, that natural bu ter Is of a real yellow color. One pound of artificlally colored butter will not ruln a complexion, but, the expert declares, in {ts constant use lies the menace to a fair, clear skin Dr. Wiley explains that dairymen for- merly used tuméric for coloring purposes. The introduction of the coal tar dye: however. provided a cheaper coloring ma ter, and one of the azo dyes, tropaelin, which gives a bright yellow color, has most entirely replaced the vegetable col- oring matter. Tumeric has practically disappeared from the dairy, and the syn- thetic yellow has taken its place, Coal tar, or aniline dyes, if constantly taken Into the system, even in the small quantities that give food: artificial color, will eventually give the complexion a sal- low appearance. Stripped of its scientifio vérbiage, the new explanation is that the coloring matter accumulates in the sys- tem and that eventually Iits effects are shown at the surface. The constant taking Into the system of mineral salts, which are so largely used in food adulteration, tends, says this warning to the Hundred Year Club, to make the small arteries brittle. Were they not thus weakened they would often be able to withstand the sudden shocks and strains from unusual physical exertion or great excitement, which in thousands of cases have caused intracranial hemor- rhage and apoplexy. Many baking pow- ders have a large percentage of these harmful saits, 2nd so the members of the Hundred Year Club have been advised to avoid breads, cakes and pastries in which baking powders have been used. —_————e————— , ~A recent traveler in South Africa tells of Benedictine nuns who have undertaken not only to bulld their houses, but even to manufacture the bricks. Those devoted women have already mads over 100,000 bricks with their own hands.