6 THE ItHroBLIOAK! V IOWA, IV^BNJESDAY, OCTOBER ?, 1891. AWTHORH COPYRIGHT BY AMERICAN PRE03 ASSOCIATION, 1801 es. Sallie, of course, was far too clever to think of attempting to influence her visitor by accentuating the seductiveness of her beauty. She had already experienced the ill success of such an effort, and even had it been otherwise a man in an agony about one woman is nflt in humor to be attracted by another, apart from the question of previous enmity. But Sallie enjoyed her beauty on her own account, and took pleasure in adorning it. So the tiger seems to feel a pride in her glossy stripes and the coral snake in its gaudy scales. This woman had never felt so sweet a satisfaction with herself and her prospect as when she bade her visitor welcome that day; and she looked as she felt. At the first glance there seemed to emanate from her the pure bloom and freshness of May itself; but as one looked more closely he became conscious of something behind this innocent and balmy aspect which was as poisonous and cruel as sin. The rich, glowing color, the queenly grace, the dark, dauntless eyes, the smiling, curving lips, the sparkle of a jewel here and there, and a certain oriental luxuriousness of costume and demeanor, all contributed to render her a splendid, pestilential cre t at- ure, such as the women of mediaeval Ituly might have been, or Cleopatra. There she stood, like a queen in her kingdom and she greeted the count with a smile of pleasure so bright and spontaneou: vhat, had hi'been in a mood to speculate about it, he might have imagined she was glad to see him for his own sake. "I am heartily glad to see you, Count de Lisle," she said. "I thought it even chances that you did not come. You evidently have courage. Shall I clap my hands and let the assassins spring forth upon you?" She actually did clap her hands as she spoke, and at the signal the curtains in a doorway at the upper part of the room parted, and in came— not a band of assassins, bat—a pretty French maid-in-waiting, with the Russian Samovar on a tray. Sallie watched her guest nnder her eyelashes, but he did not even turn his head to see who entered. He was turned to sterner issues ihan this, and Sallie smiled again. '•I am here on business," he said, seating himself in the chair she indicated, "and I must request you to conduct this interview on a business basis. You say • you have something to sell that I want to buy. If you prove that you have it you can name your price." "Oh, my dear count, you forget that I am a woman, with all a woman's foibles and frailties," she exclaimed; "Women cannot move in straight lines, like bullets; they must undulate, like snakes. Besides, I want to feel that I am a human being dealing with another human being, not one part of an abstract commercial transaction. You must remember that this is one of the most interesting moments of my life. .You cannot expect me to let it pass by in so frigid a manner. I must get what meat there is out of it; or, if you cannot spare the time and patience, you can always get up and go away. But I give you fair warning that I will not tell you what you want to know until I have told you everything I want you to hear." "Perhaps, you had better give me some assurance, in the first place, that you can tell me what I want to know." Sallie hesitated a moment, and her hand moved toward a box on the table. But she withdrew it and said: "No, I will not do even that. You think me unreasonable, of course, but I can't help it; I must conduct this affair in iny own way or not at all." This whimsical pretense of feminine f ussiness in the face of a situation so grim and tragic had a certain informal humor about it that almost made the count laugh. It was as if she were to protest that it would quite make her head ache to nnirder a man with a carving knife; an Italian poinard of the Fifteenth century was the only instrument she could think of operating with. "Go on, then," he said. "There is a limit, but I hope, on all accounts, you wont transcend it. Recollect that I, too, am desperate!" "Come, that is a bond of sympathy at any rate," exclaimed Sallie, in a musical «rov1,lci ""NTnvu- wrt r-.lint totrethei 1 COSilv!" most asK Garcia, replied the onnt, quietly, as one who had made up lis mind to endure up to a certain point, nd then no more. Do you think Garcia would tell me ny secret of yours?" said Sallie. She ave the question a flavor of arch surprise that sent the count on a swift jonr- ney of expectation. After all, why had Garcia left him? He began to surmise a possible reason, but he said only, "I have vlwnys found him a useful man. Of iotirse I know he has his weaknesses." "Yes; so have we all," she replied. •Even the Count tie Lisle has weakness- And yet, it seems to me, were I in our place I would have none. No man iver had a greater opportunity than you. f you stood for yourself alone, what could you not do? No one could attack you. You could buy friends, police, uries, judges and legislatures. You could make laws and elect rulers. You ould yourself be the real ruler of this ountry and hold the balance of power n the world. With genius and purpose and such wealth as yours all that would not be impossible. But, then, you must make sacrifices. You must be solitary, [f you give your confidence to a friend or your heart to a woman you are vulnerable and can be overthrown. When I first learned who and what you were 1 feared you. Here is a man, I said to myself, who, from having a ropi around his neck, has risen to power incalculable. The world has clone its worst to him; he will have his revenge upon the world. The iron has entered into his soul, and now his soul will be like iron. He must be obeyed, for he can enforce obedience. But when I heard," continued Sallie, suddenly changing from this serious vein to a light and bantering tone, "that the Count de Lisle was in love and about to be married I did not fear him so much. To have attempted to overthrow you by questioning the means that had obtained you your wealth would have been a desperate enterprise. Even robbers and murderers, if they be warble. "Now we chat together cosily! 1 CHAPTER XVIII. OVKK A CUP OF TEA. A pen was put in Ms hand, and he affixed his signature to each document. "You m|istn''t expect from me any attempt to return you an equivalent for your hospitality," remarked Sallie, as she gracefully began the brewing of the tea. "I haven't the material nor the ingenuity. There is not BO muck as an assassin on the premises, not to. speak of magic mirrors and oriental enchanters, and beautiful specters, By the way .that was a wondeifjuto 0J0ver tripk, H&w was it done?" *\ A.it. . ,ii,*JtfJJSi, strong and resolute enough, need feai nothing. But to have given your heart to a girl—that was another matter! You could be reached through her." "And you? Are you impregnable?" asked he. "Only in so far that if I saw my way to accomplish what I supremely desire 1 would let nothing deter me. I wae an innocent little girl once, but even then I had strong desires, and without any opportunity to carry them out. I made some serious mistakes, and suffered from them, but I had had my way, and I found that most failures in this world are due to not having been unscrupulous enough. It needs courage to begin, but when you discover what it is to be without scruples you wonder why anybody is controlled by them. They are the great slaveholders of the human race. But I was going to say that I should be willing to put in your hands any evidence against myself that you might require for my destruction rather than forego the purpose I have in view." "What is your purpose?" "The poets say that love is lord of all, you know. I have had rny doubts of that, and I want you to settle them. You think you love Olympia Raven. How much would you be willing to sacrifice to save her life?" That is a hypothetical question. I could answer it only after I was made certain that her life was in danger." "Whether she lives or dies depends upon the result of this interview. She is in my power—as the people in melodrama say. What becomes of her depends on my will." The count, who had been sitting with his elbows on his knees and his eyes lowered, looked, up, and his glance and Sallie's met. What she saw in his mind sent a quick flush to her face. For a moment she held her breath. No soldier in battle was ever nearer death than Sallie then. But she had a resolute heart, and when she drew her breath again it was with a smile. "Do you always carry a revolver?" she said. "We are alone in the house, except my maid. I could have protected myself, but I am sufficiently protected by circumstances. It has been arranged that if anything happens to me Olympia will not long survive me." "Have we not had enough of this?" asked he. "Do you really expect me to accept your statements as facts?" "I might leave you to suffer the consequence of not accepting them. But J wish to spare you the pain of uncertainty if I can. Let me see. What can I do? Would you like to see something of hers? Did you not give her an engagement ring? And did she not wear it on the evening when you last saw her?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I have given her many tilings—no doubt a ring, among others. She might have lost it. and it might have been picked up; 1 can't say." "At any rate, I will restore it to you," said Sallie. "It is not mine, and since she no longer wears it you should have the charge of it." • So saying, she drew the box toward her, opened it and took out a ring. Is was a black diamond in an antique setting. It was one of the jewels that had been contained in Napoleon's treasure casket, and the count had given it to Olyrnpia as the pledge of their betrothal. Such anoiJier ring did not exist in the world. He knew that Olyinpia-would never willingly let it leave her finger. The proof that the worst was true was complete. He slipped the ring on his own finger, and said, "Well?" "Well, then, I return to my question," said Sallie, leaning back and stirring her tea. "What would you be willing tc sacrifice to save her life?" "I see no reason why I should discuss the question with you," said the count. "I prefer to deal with those who have the immediate charge of her. I understand your plot, and that I *m to blame for the success of it. I allowed Garcia to obtain hypnotic control over her. You won the poor creature to your service, by means it is easy to surmise! and prevailed upon him to use his power to draw her into your hands. But Garcia, having received from you the price—the favor—promised him for his act, is now in 4MBfliti0a tebrp^; forth fruits of re- p&ntanee. 1 shall find means to iadece hhntogive me the information that 1 require. As for you, yon hate already supplied all the information I care to trouble you for." Thesa words were slowly and deliberately spokdn, while his eyes were steadily fixed upon her face. He was taking a final chance, with such imperturbability as he could command. And, indeed, since it was true, as Sallie had herself said, that no human being can be quite sure of another, it was possible that Garcia, who had already betrayed the count, might now betray Sallie—assuming that the count was right in his guess as to Garcia's part in the affair. But Sallie, if she felt uneasiness, showed none. She clapped her hands together once more and the maid reappeared. "Step over to the corner," said her mistress, "and tell Mr. Garcia I want him." The maid went out, and a moment after the count heard the street door close. "I am sensitive on some points," Sallie observed, "and you hurt my feelings. I am building no house of cards, Count de Lisle; I am perfectly in earnest, and I am not so childish as to attempt to fight you with shadows—as you fought me? As to your insinuation about my purchase of your friend, I will not deny it; you shall judge for yourself. It is your doubt of my intelligence that galls me—not, of course, the other insult!" The count made no reply. The point had been passed with him where words that were not also acts seemed worth uttering. He continued to gaze with a certain" gloomy curiosity at Sallie. In heart more savage and cruel than a wild beast, in morality a Faustina—and all this incarnated in gentle, low voiced, patrician mannered beauty. Sirens in Tophet must be like her; and that she was a woman was almost enough to damn the whole- sex. She was not restless under his gaze; she invited him to take some tea, and on, hi» maintaining his silence she poured out another cup for herself, flavored it, tasted it, altered it, and finally, wken it suited her, drank jfc^just as the door opened to admit Gtffcia. "You know the Count de Lisle, Garcia," said Sallie in her musical tones. "He wishes you to tell him where Olympia Raven is, so that he may go and rescue her. You know the reward he offers —ten million dollars, is it not? On the other hand, I tell him that unless he agrees to certain very unreasonable conditions of mine I will have the girl killed. The count has been kind to you. You know best whether or not I have been kind. Have you the heart to let that poor innocent girl perish, when by a word you can save her, ruin me, and do yourself the highest service? Tell the count plainly and relieve his suspense." Garcia turned to the count and gave him a dark, indifferent look, as if there were in him no instinct of human brotherhood. "You had better do as she wishes," he said in a cold tone. "She has the power to do what she threatens, and she will carry it out if you defy her." "Do you know where Olympia Raven is?" said the cotfajt. "Yes; I charmed her there. You can never find her. Attempt no such folly. Comply at once or it will be too late. She cannot survive indefinitely in her present state." "What do you mean by that?" said the count, with 1 a note of horror in his voice. "She has been in the trance from the first," replied Garcia. "She is of a delicate organization, and she is sinking every hour." "You see, my dear count," said Sallie with a soft laugh, "how injudicious you were to distrust me. If you had met me frankly and cordially all might have been settled by this time. Of course you know that Garcia alone can awaken Olympia from her trance, and that he has only to refrain from awakening her to cause her death. Are you satisfied? or is there any other person you would like to see and question?" "What do you want?" demanded the count; "I am at your service." "After all, think what you are doing," Sallie said. "Why not let the girl die and forget her? There are many others in the world more beautiful and desirable. Will you for the sake of this frail creature, who may die next week in any case, put yourself absolutely in the power of your worst enemy? Think better of it, Count de Lisle." "1 entreat you to have some mercy!" "The Count de Lisle entreats me for mercy! This is a new role, indeed, for him to play," she exclaimed, in mock admiration. "Did you not tell me half an hour ago that you were a desperate man—with a revolver, too! And you entreat me—Sallie Matchin—the forger, the murderess, the courtesan who buys men with her favors—you entreat me for mercy! Where is your self respect, iny dear count?" "Garcia, will you do nothing?" "Oh, this is too bad!" exclaimed Sallie. "You ought to be protected against yourself! You are excited, and don't realize what you are about. I haven't the heart to take advantage of you. Take my advice: Have me arrested for my crimes; 1 am sure to be convicted, and then you are rid of me forever. Olyinpia will be dead, but what of that! The world will )6 at your feet. Your path will be clear. There will be no limit to your ambition. Come, be a man! Say the wordl Here am, ready for the scaffold. I could not escape you if I would. Will not the pleasure of witnessing niy death agony compensate you for a sentimental pang or two?" 'That is enough," interposed' Garcia gloomily. "He cannot Buffer any more. Get the papers and let hira sign them. You have had your amusement." He spoke with an air of authority that gave a new aspect to his mysterious character. The man seemed to change his individuality as easily as ordinary tden change their clothes. "Well," said Sallie with a sigh, "what Solomon said is true, 'Though you bray a fool in a mortar, yet will not his f oily depart froEa WmP I wiU get the papers. Meanwhite 40 yon t$l him HE She left the room r and Garcia turned to the conttt, who Bat tfhlte and train* bling in hie <shair. "Yon are to be brought back td the station in life from which you rose,* aaidhe. "The deeds which yon nreto sign transfers your property to others. You will execute a paper stating your true name and confessing that you are the murderer of Harry Trent. This Will be used against you in case yon should attempt to recover what you have surrendered. In other words, your life as well as your fortune will hereafter be at the disposal of this woman. Are you content?" "If Olympia is saved I am content." answered the other. "She will be conveyed this afternoon to your house on Long Island," said Garcia. "You will go there not earlier than five o'clock. Tomorrow you and she will leave this country, never to return. Your departure will be satisfactorily accounted for. Such are the conditions. Do you clearly understand and unreservedly accept them?" The count bent his head. Sallie reentered the room with the papers. They were placed before him, a pen was put in his hand, and he affixed his signature to each document. Words were spoken, but he did not compreheTid them. The objects of the material world seemed to flow and dissolve around him like the phantasmagory of a dream. He was fully conscious of nothing until he found himself standing on the end «f a wharf by the river staring into the stream. CHAPTER XIX. DRAWING LOTS. At half past four o'clock Keppel Darbe was landed on Long Island, and was within a touple of miles of the summer cottage he had built there. It was Sunday, and the workmen had left their work. The house, for that matter, was all but completed except its interior furnishings. A watchman was appointed to keep guard over it, but during the daytime his duties were merely nominal, and at that hour he was taking a siesta in his quarters above the stable at the back of the building, little expecting that the owner of the premises was so near. It so happened that Darke was now traversing the same region through which he had groped his way on that night, three years before, after his escape from the railroad wreck. The memory now recurred to him, and with it the parallel between his state then and now. The events of the intermediate period were to him like a strange story which he had read, and which seemed true while he was reading it, but which he now recognized as fabulous. This experience and that other one were alone real. Now, as then, he was a penniless and helpless fugitive, an outcast from society, with danger dogging his footsteps. Then, as now, a treasure lay before him, but then the treasure was of precious stones and jewels; now it was the woman who loved him and whom he loved. He had lost the one, but he had gained the other. And as he pushed his way onward he thanked God that the better part was left to him. The suffering that he had undergone since Olympia's disappearance, and especially the agony of the torture to which he had just been subjected, he remembered as a hideous nightmare or a burning at the stake. But the flames of that fire had consumed the baser part of him; his heart was purified, and at every step he took it grevr lighter and more hopeful. (To be Continued.) JACK'S BtfBBING HOME ASK'8 BILL NYE WHAT HE MUST DO TO B6 EMINENT. Wlltlam Tells Him a Story of a Voting Man Who Suddenly nose to A Qfent Hclffht— Try It, A«ter)«k, and Jnrap Ofl Ton Got There. (Copyright, 1891. by Edgar W. Nye.J CRAio-T-Nos, Buncotnbo Co., N. C., i October, 1801. I The following letter has been waiting for some time, but other matters have Interfered with a prompt reply: GURDON, Ark., Aug. 18, 1801. Edgar W. Nye. Ashevtlle, X. O.s DBAB SIR— For several years 1 hare been a reader of your excellent "BUI Nyo" articles, and, being somewhat young and litoraryly Inclined, have longed for a bit of advice from yonr pen. Probably "while the delegation are waiting" Just outside your door you could drop a few "Nye" nuggets into my receptacle and they -would never be missed. Thought as the Banker Did. A banker, while talking to one of hi clerks, said, "Arthur, a man neve amounts to much in this life until h gets married." "I think so myself, sir," the young man replied. "Glad you are so ready to agree with me, Arthur, for I have taken quite a liking to you. How old are you?" "Twenty-one, sir." "Plenty old to marry, Arthur, and 1 would advise you to begin lookirig around." "I have been looking around, and 1 have found a young lady, and she has promised to be my wife." "G-ood. I hope she is worthy of you "I think she is, sir." "Glad you think so. Who is she, Arthur?" "Your daughter, sir." The young fellow does not work at the bank now.—Arkansaw Traveler. By Invitation. Mrs. Sinks—Why didn't you come home to dinner? Small Son—I had my dinner, ma. took dinner with Willie Minks. "Did Mrs. Minks invite you?" "Yes, ma. 1 smelled apple dumplings cooking, and I told her I liked apple dumplings awful." "Oh, you did?" "Yes'm. Then she said maybe if went home I'd find you had apple dumplings for dinner too." "Humphl" "Yes'm. But I told her yours was a! ways so heavy pa wouldn't let me ea any, an then she invited me to sit down " —Good News. AT THE ELEVATOR. I have never heard that you encouraged young scribblers to Indulge In writing to you by anawenrlns there tiresome sheets by return mail, as, undoubtedly, you were prompted to do. Unknowingly 1 make the experiment. How would you advise a young man of a literary bent, and possessing a keen sense for that which is unusual or humorous? How shall he find the market without money or influence? Is humorous writing remunerative? Can you cite an instance in regard to your gaining literary notoriety? Please don't dispair at this. It is mearly the Introduction of what a bore can do. Possibly I, too, shall be eminent some day, and in lieu of this great impossibility will close as the opportunity presents. Please comply. Very sincerely. The above letter ia written by a young man who needs information about as severely as any one with whom 1 have ever met up. 1 put three asterisks in )lace of his name in order to shield his iamily. This is only a specimen of one rind of correspondent out of a list of a jreat many hundreds. I pause to wonder where they all come from. Passing over the first paragraph, which is kind, nattering and fulsome, [et us come at once to what Mr. Asterisk—Mr. Jack Asterisk, if you please- really wants to know. in the first place, I do, as often and as lucidly and pellucidly as I can with what few talents 1 may embrace, answer the inquirers who have something to inquire for, if 1 am able to supply the information. First then. Jack, you should know what you want tp inquire for, and, secondly, you should know how to spell it. Then any one would be glad to drop the information into your receptacle. Undoubtedly! Now comes the query, "How would you advise a young man of a literary bent and possessing a keen sense for that which is unusual or humorous?" 1 would advise such an one to avail himself of it and enjoy it. Few people are blest with a keen sense of the unusual. It should be fostered. You ask next, "How shall he find the market without money or influence?" Ha will naturally have great difficulty. )he market for a keen sense of the unusual was never more panicky than it is ow. Without money or influence j'ou will have quite a long search before you will get your price. To tell you the honest and never dying truth. Asterisk, here is no market for a keen sense for ;he unusual or humorous. It is a good ;hing to have, for your life will be longer and sweeter for having it. Don't mar- set it at all, any more than you would market your keen relish for what is good or beautiful. You doubtless want to ind a market, not for your keen sense of the unusual, but for your ability to describe such things in an entertaining way, and you cannot deliver the goods at present, 1 fear. Learn first to write good English. Write at a mark for eight or nine years and let up on busy people, if you please. I once knew u young man who decided to go to New York and to try. to get a job on the metropolitan press. He had practiced on a country paper for several years, and had received a cyclopedia and a reversible wall map as a reward for his genius and toil. So he said to himself: "I will go to New York. This life is killing me. It is time to call a halt." He did not take a trunk because he said it would only be a burden to him, and one hot day when the sun was bringing out all the hidden fra- not know the editor arid, that, probably, he ttev«r would. The elevator bo; gftVe • him a blank replevin to fill out, statin*, whom he wished to see and also on whft* business, Whether friendly of othefWifl&» whether married or single, and if eo, hot it agfeed with him. He/sent this up to the editor and got word that the editor had gone to Honolulu to start a branch office, but would be back in the spring. He did not believe this. So he lingered near, and pretty soon he saw a clergyman with the manuscript of a sermon > nnder hia arm and heard him ask to ee* Mr. Must. This gave him an idea. He would also ask to see Mr. Must as soon- as the clergyman came back. So he took out his second papers, and where tJw blank occurred regarding what he wished to see Mr. Must for he wrote, "Wish to- see Mr. Must regarding scoop." Then he was bidden to come. He thought hard all the way up trying to have an idea, for the paper offered 1 as high ffl $2.75 apiece for ideas at that time. When he got there he was scared almost to death, but the editor greeted him rather kindly and said: "Wellf" with a rising inflection. "I had an idea in the elevator," said Ambrose, for that was the name of our- hero, "that it would be a good idea to. send a man down to Coney island and let him write it up." "For the paper?" asked the editor, pounding on the wall with the draw- head from a wreck which he once participated in. "Yea, for the paper," said Ambrose, "for the first page." "Well," said the editor, "I have- thought of that. I thought of it eighteen years ago. We have had spells of thinking of it ever since. So have the other papers. Are you a native of New York?" "No, sir; I am a native of Bellefonte, Ohio. 1 got here early this morning." "I judged that you had not lived here always. You are too considerate of other- people's feelings to pass for a native of New York. But you can acquire that metropolitan air if you try. If you go- up to the slaughter house and drink hot blood for a month, then come and .ride- on the elevated road, you will get that man-about-town air." "Yes, sir." "But you look fatigued, and your clothes are old. Look at your trousers, how they bag at the area!" "Yes, I am told that they do, sir; but one cannot beat one's way from Cincinnati here and keep the crease in both legs of one's panties and have them drape alike when he arrives here. Folks, tell me that they are rather out at elbows, sir, but, thank God, they cover a . warm heart." "I see," said the editor, "that you have a wonderful command of language, 1 will give you a chance, though the office is full of idle men. You would think that the office ought seek the man, Ambrose, but it is not so here. I will give you an assignment. Go to the top of Trinity spire and write it up. Bring your stuff tomorrow. At the elevator give the good hailing sign, and repeat the word 'Mesopotamia.' You will be admitted." Ambrose knew that this was only a polite way of getting rid of him, but he asked a policeman to show him Trinity church, and he went up in the spire alone. He cried a little up there, for as he looked out over the big, smoky city he thought that in that great swarming "human hiva," as he had called it at home in The Advance, he had no friend. Here, even under the golden cross of the church, he was alone. It was a pitiful thought, and Ambrose hungered for his home away in Ohio; but with a big sob in his throat he sharpened his pencil and looked about him, for he had a keen sense for the unusual. Cut with a knife on the little window frame by his side he read: July 4. MORTIMER and DOROTHY. That was all; but he took those two names and wove around them a story of tender possibility and humanity. He put in "the high lights'of happiness and the shadows of sorrow as they must come, dear Asterisk, to all of us. He wrote on as the sun went down, and thought not of his hunger and the homeless, pitiless, scadlesa night that was coming on. He wrote while the shadows lengthened in the churchyard and the roar of business aloug Broadway died down to a sort of mercantile purr. Then he took his "copy" and went up the Bowery to where one may abide all night for fifteen cents. There he abode the night. But he did not care. He was happy. He did not have to sleep there more. The editor read his little story aloud till his voice got husky and then he read it to himself. Now Ambrose is himself a managing- editor, and has engraved visiting cards with "Mister" on them. You ask if 1 can cite an instance in regard to my gaining literary notoriety, and I reply with my hand on my heart that, so far as I know, I cannot. And now, if I have been of service tc you or any one who may read these lines, if there be in this brief note a The Wrong Place. Bingo—How is the new servant gir getting on? Mrs. Bingo—She's gone. Bingo—Gone. Why. what's the matter? Mrs. Bingo—My dresses didn't fit her. —Cloak Review. A. Question of Altitude. Clara—Say, dear, I've changed milliners. Maude—Oh, what did you do that for? Clara—Well, you see, my old one was only five feet hi^h, and I've got to have gome new theater hats.—Cloak Review. Guaranteed. Always the same. A notice in a late issue of a Berlin paper: "Isaac Goldskin and bis wpfe respectfully invite their friends .to be present a$ tfceir guaranteed pure #iY«r "—Fttegeade B^tej, grance that a century has concealed be- grain of goodness which you may picl tween the heated paving stones of News-| up and file away, I am repaid—that is, paper row, he found the door which led into the inhospitable dwelling of the great newspaper upon which he had decided to bestow himself. Everybody about him looked so cool and superior that he hated himself be cause he perspired so, and he knew that even the elevator boy looked down'on him. He felt homesick, and when he took out bia handkerchief to wipe his brow he accidentally pulled out a little red pincushion that his sister gave him when he started for town. It smote on his heart very heavily, Mr. Asterisk, and he compared tlie welcome he generally got at home with the chilly glare he.got when be qame to town. When he mustered the courage, he took a deep breath and stepped into the elevator} the elevator boy pushed Mm and up . of course, figuratively speaking — and with this, and hoping that possibly I, too, may be eminent some day, and ir lieu of this great impossibility, wilJ close, as the opportunity presents. Verj sincerely, To Take tUe Curse off. Edison is said to have invented an automatic piano player. This 'won't do. If we have to listen to the piano let na have a pretty girl to operate it.—New York Press.
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