The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on May 18, 1892 · Page 2
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 2

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Wednesday, May 18, 1892
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tJgjPBR 1>ES MOIKES. ALOONA. IOWA. WBDKESPAy. MAY 18.1892. The J>ea<t» of Jf««r* B»o>g. m. JCkr>1ini Iw J em wtmirp stow; I ifxr tb*t be Jf driHK, fi-T prtsckm* oeJ<3 irjUr . 1 cannot slop Hie »tms8 1 us«j5 ta warWe to hte «ar, My roJ'* 1* cn8cX<*l with aeouy. my befcrt it Site! wit!if'«i-, lresdf etends Bfe<-3 t*ie tweat vf «P"0 In* l«rcw: ', *r ft-j do ltn"«- toe, to my bairieee -" rlest PattS ce frb» Tiro* And new tiist'Ctejitli w -"-as He»- Ittte were red i-!th T"»tj.lii£ and one tear flood Jo ea'th ej-e. She wruuj? liw liana? in arouy. Sire tore ber : bf-r heir!'?" j«.-t, so naked. tin re. i Jk')',"*lirjl mi»»*l Ids ftrfce aud roared * ndgtity mar And «anir utrtv riiat hiUr)'j*« tfyjr a? nv'er b-;'d fttinjr tjHVjre, Be imtw <»f Aniiit BOWK? tttid of Mike ' Of t»inraa>^i et»d 1li? picture that if turned toward tli»- wail: H« -werW«jd 'TliatU l/sre" at*3 many another pop'iar lay — Alias* lie Baiij; tire wnig that sow t»-r»-ra A vltirer tUxivk tin; hairless dog, lie iieertsJ a I'tUi-dlBWU «1^U; or t-vto,- )t« caeperi aufl th?nb«3 <£j liltle «-y%. . ! yut eaiaj «loodcr le^, likewise hit (sleacicj- tall: And Paul. tiyiJtii- uJJ tb«*t UJJUJTB, waUed fortb a wailful •»*)!. But *o»ne J)>»ci'.*l not ber tr&e; be lay etiil on hie bed; <k«j from Mexico A.nd .Ni'rdlni eiu!~l«j«3 a BEDllc, sinister, crueL _ *riin: Tb<-D jiiiis-xl out tl<rwu?1i Lie tMeh-s«-t teetb: , 1 iiuvt doue lor Jiiiri." — Arthur Lucas. away! . ONE SOUKS GROWTH. .She Ivaned ber round face on ber iands. looking afar off. It was little n tkati the lac* <ji a child, albeit wa.s 1 \venjy and kad been a wile •for two rear*. * A sound of walking drew ber blue -eyes ja another direction, A man was •coining up the walk- It wax her Ijns- band. Did she run to meet bhn with words of wficonni and a earess from her dimpled arm*? O, no; be bad taught her better than that, sbe bit- teriy IbougLt, quickly uncurJirj;: lie;- djjnty foct and upewdjrjjr away to her '. Hyw gracefully sue ran '1'h': motion was like a startled faivjj'g. But him was peering soberly iu".>> the stove oven «-!j<;n tij<- kite hen doorway -was darkened by tbe entrance of John Hardy, her liUh-SJujj-J. • ; J« K»\>yv j-'rady?" ha asked. No \vord of greeting iurthur; no word of ]/rai»e fur the pnuty, llugliej law— nothing but carbk-ss "glance at tb« pan of crisp, brown njuijj/is n\\u was carrying tu a BJdy table. Without g'undug up fibe answered, "In a few moments, John." Ho turned on bi« liei;l, goinir out to bathe hits hot face and bauds. Lucille — how well the nainuKiiitijii tlie dainty, .•delicate faco-— hastily arranged her tea-table and ran^ the bell, JoTin came in. Kat down, and Hilently proceeded Uj cat, helping hiuinulf, not notiuiuv the face opjxjsite, "Anotlmrcup of cnllee." She gave it to him. saying anxiously, "Does everything suit yon!'" "Yes. Oh, yes," lie answered carelessly. Still no word of praise. Her face became downcast. What a fool ; jjhfi was to expect praise for anything -»h« did she wearily told herself as she • «et the dining-room in order. Her husband vvaw at the door again: "Lu• cilli), have u bed ready when I corrio back. J'm g"ing to the depot for our new Jyuardcr." ".Now boarder! Oh, John, to-night?" "Yes." and bis shadow disappeared from the doorway. And thin was her lir.st intelligence of tho fact '.hat Job n bail taken a boarder for the Hummer. Oh, why bad hi; not told her Koojinr? lint this was John's way in all things -not to nniki; a confidant of h.sr and with luadi-n feet she went iij) to the "spare-room" to array • the bod in shei;!;-, cli:. rjihiM'wi.so it w:;s ulwayn in onlei'. After fresh water had bi.'cn brought and fresh towels laid out K|IU gavi; a last weary glance around, ibi-n d"M:«ndui| to tlie kitchen •a^ain. Of course the Elrangcr would want Hijppor. "I am so lired of it nil," she sighed. And yet why wan she weary and tired? Him was the healthy young wife of a prosperous young fanner. Either Lucille HVIUIH Bhould not have married a farmer or C!HC who should have been educated with the idea of boiti^ a farniur'H wife. She was a village girl, having had ull tan exaggerated idoat of such girls of the sweets of farm life. John Hardy had thought her extremely pretty and bad thought she would become an excellent manager and capital liouKckci!pcr--under bin tuition. If he was salislied she had become the two latter iu a spiritless, plodding way, unlilsi) what the blithesome Lucille hud been two years ugo. liiiforii she bud rekindled Ihelire the wpring wagon was heard to stop. As slie hastily blew HIM pine into a bla/.e her husband's voice sounded: "Lucille, Mr. Belhvirs must Imvo UplKif." "Incleod, no." And Lucille got •Blowly up from her knees anil turned about. Never bud she heard such u Hiiigulurly sweet voice. Mr. IJullairs hauV taken in the situation at a glance. The wife was thu servant bore. Hu would rather go to bud hungry than add to her toil. "My wife," John had tho grace to say. Mr. Bcllaim bowed, uud Lucille looked at him dreamily. Ah! hero was a knight! "I want nothing so much as a bud. I dined at 7 and wish for nothing more till breakfast." "Tim room is quite ready," she said in a low, gentle voice. John took up a lamp and Mr. Bcllairs bowed "goodnight." Ho glanced hastily about his room. Everything was exquisitely neat and fragrant, but ho mentally resolved Chat his own strong feet and hand'* ahould pump water and do all that wus necessary for his own comfort. Then ho ga/.tid curiously at John. "An ox," ho inwardly decided. But in this lie was wrong. John was like tho majority of eastern farmers. Shrewd, sensible, well-read in newspapers, progressive ou the farm, but totally uiisuu- dorstanding a woman's life and u wo- wuu's work*J always try to conform to tho of the house where 1 board. «t an ttneart&jy briar?" he ^jz *Oa, BO, " at M". Jit-Hairs "I ha-J I'b'jusJii ? <A-l"!-k t-tsrl--.* Buay he for TOIJ f»jt not" for us. r, my wi'* will «ee tbat vo» o^ir breakfast al any hmir you c-'jt-iH not think ," he -wss be•S;B«:. but «Jr»foii iva? r1o?jng the door otJ ?i1» rfrirt-athiir fi.Tin. it iva? *> r-V'en-k t<n** next morning when Mr. Beliairs opened tbe dinin<r- ro'.'sn door -where LncilU" =at shelling peas. She glanced tip quietly and he *i acj truly sorry I am B-J late," he murmured, guiltily feeling that he -was D"f sorry a bit. ''Ob, jay husband told me TOU -would not want breakfas-t till 8. ft you v kind!}- fit down I -svill wait on 5~ r ->u." "But tell ine, do you not really think I am a savage?" The pretty woman, unused to flattery or def'.Tf-noe. jrazeii steadily &t him. 'Why should I? I think it more jrigtiaD-like t/i breakfast at this hour limn at daylight. Ji God badiateui people u> bctrin the day before sunrise He would have made the sunrise earlier." A simple remark a child luiirbt have made but ber evident in Howry's disarmed hitn. She was no woman to be bejruiJtsd by pieity speeches, and his plan to be entertaining to this guileless creature t-auie to naught-for the time. She waited 'juietly on him each morning, speaking no "word unless "She i.» not a fool but she wems to iiave no M,ul," was bis mental calculation. *»•*•*» Tf;*? 5unjrner waned. Why did Lur-i'le's step !n^ and vrhy aad her pink face lost its bloom? He was to go away: Yes, it had come to this— that tbir-uian vritli the,red-brown ir a/id the beautiful voice, brown «%•*•-«. suave manners and polished ad- Ireiss—ibis man had wakened the marble Galatea into life! He was no artist but he had the soul if one. He wa« only a young citv •jroker out for a Mimrner holiday, but ie h;id looked deeply into the soul of this link- family. He saw the husband was harsh, euki, indifferent and unap i.-ciativo and the wife Ktultilk'd by a nj^jiotonoii.s round of soul-narrowing household duties. The day of the parting came. He h'.'M her hands close. "Good-by, Mrs. Hardy. 1'li be back next summer." Sbe hung her bead like a shy schoolgirl; but it was not shyness, it was the j-k-kness of dv.-sp.-jir that bent her neck, but she spoke no word. Careless man of the world that he was, her dejection moved him. "If ever I can serve you—if ever you need aid, appeal to me." She wrenched her hands free. •"It is hardly probable that Lucille Hardy will need your aid. Go—and good-by." "Proud to the last and yet I could have sworn she had grown to like inc." Ah! thank God for that woman's pride that enables her to hide so much and to set the world at defiance! Lucille crept up to her room and lay on the lounge for hours,but she uttered no nigh and made no moan,only looked out the window with wide-open, tearless (!) es. "Surely he did not read my secret— surely ho did not go away believing that I love him. Ami yet, I do, oh, I do, and God knows how I arn to live all my days without seeing him." Her husband never dreamed of the sleepless nights of tearless agony she spent by bis side while he slept the sleep of the just. For months who went about pale and thin, but her hours of thinking were developing her. .She was beginning to be lu.w afraid of her husband. One day she said: "John, 1 must have books to read." "Why?" he asked laconically. "Because I wish thorn," she answered firmly. "Do you have time to read?" ho asked severely. "I shall make 'irnc." Ho was astounded, but the books went procured. "I must read and study that I may become a companion for him," she thought., Bui the summer came and went and Mr. Bellairs came not. At thu cud of two years she said: "John, J .shall gel a piano." lie was astonished again. "Lucille, you are becoming extravagant. You know very well 1 am not a rich man." "1 rcali/.e that quite well, nevertheless. 1 have helped you to accumulate what riches you possess and am just as much entitled to a piano for my amusement as you are to costly machinery that will lesson your labor." Was this logician the gentle, submissive and uncomplaining wife of two years ago? But the piano eamo and Lucille renewed her music, learned iu her girl- h i ood. The fourth summer John told her Mr. Bellairs wished to return, for he had, unconsciously to himself, begun to consult his wife in all things. "In that case 1 must havu a.servant. I i\t, not care to become a dining-room maid for city gentlemen." So Mr. Bellairs, jailed and wearied, came to this peaceful home oneu more. "Perhaps I shall lindnopunthuhe.ro," hu told himself, remembering with satisfaction tho ill-concealed grief of Lucille at their parting four years ago. But the winsome-faced girl had vanished and in her place was a stately woman as well dressed as any iu his own circle and as quietly relinud. When he came down to breakfast n chubby country girl wailed on him and at niglil his hostess entertained him with good music and charming conversation. "I've half a mind to fall in lovo with her now," ho said, as he went to bod. \ "Thank God, the scales have fallen from my eyes," she said, "for I know that 1 shall never moot that god-like man who is my ideal, and 1 shall in limuvuvou become contented with tltat which I have. It is so sad to know that all our lovo, all our despair, all our suffering must end thus. That happinossXis u. chimera and content only found/in minislfiiring to others. I can bo content now/ o be John's cook." But shij laid hi fair face ou her •iiaspkfi} aria* and looked eaaij into :h? sad violet eyes tlist peered it ber fmm she <rlasS before fc-er. Keuijijt-iat^on aid reMgB-atkm sire j»r«=5L-le only to tbop? wbn hare otit- irrotva tbe beautiful dreams of yonth ari'j nnFe]H§bn«?5 is bearsble oalv to who no longer care for y Tratiacrijut. A BLIGHTED LIFE. n»« Foitire ;?<-]•» ^oSJilnc Brfzht t for ttols Man. EW EROtHEft a CttM or He -n-as occupying a beach on the cr-mrnon. his head restingon his hands, a picture of despair, says the N. Y. B'or/sJ. The blustering tv'jnds of March ;wet>t across his weather-beaten COOD- tenance and froze the tears as thev coursed down his farrowed cheeks. A kindly old gentleman in clerical i-arb passing by patised. His heart •vas toucbed'~bv the sad eight and he iaid n eyrepathetie hand upi'n the poor fe1!r!'«-' ! s shoulder. -What-i* the matter, my friend?" he s.iH. kindly. "I fear you "are not well. There seem? to, be a hectic; liush " •Don't say that 'ere. stranger," said the object of tbe good man's sympathy, stretching forth his hand aV if in piulebi. "Didn't twit* a poor devil on liu- misfortunes. Tvroru't exactly a hectic flush, though, neither, 'though that's a new name I haven't heard on; anJ p'raps you didn't mean bad, after all." The clerical gentleman hastened to deny any intention of raking up past ='>rrowjs. and urged him to explain. "Why, yer see, pard.'lwas this way," paid the other. "Some er the boys was just <rittin' interested in the game an' they kinder axed me ter set in. 1 w-t in. an' things went along sort er quiet Hke till Bob Simkins be opened upHJac-ker an' they all come in er whoopin'. I had as purty a busted flush t«r draw ter as you ever see, an' thinks I I'll raise him back on the open- in'. So I riz him back an' they all olood. game as yer please. When it <v:rne fer the draw Bob he 'lowed he didn't wan't any. an' I took one pape. My busied flush was the ten, jack, kin;: er spade?, an' I'll be darned if ' didn't draw the ace o' that idi'iilk-ai unit. I didn't stop ter see no more. I bad the only hand in the deck what couldn't be beat, an' I closed Vm up on tbe table an' irot reauy ter havu some fun. Air the iuu was thar, too, and d.jn't you make no i;:;.-:t-ike. Thu other fellers all went !il mighty quick "when the)- see me n' Bob was in it fer blood, an' we jest h:id it back an' forth like two tomcats Lung over a clothes-line. When every cent we could raise wa.s in tin-pot Bob'lowed he'd call. Sex. he: 'V<-n hen;. Jim, I got yer beat, but yer uin't got no more money, an' ye may well show'the boys what yer so doggo m; proud on.' / I: Bob Simpkins, whatever ye've got the e»vng is mine. Ye can't !",vn a's&raight Hush clean up at the top. an' no other man can't do it neither.' -Well, stranger, Bob, he had four i^lils, an' I tell yer he looked mighty sii:k. J laid down my kyards an'gut grip on the stakes, when, "by jink.s, if they didn't raise a yell lit ter one er them 'ere motor'ears clear oh" i he track! I kinder lifted my lingers au' asked what they wa.s or rnakin' sech dad bhirsted rumpus about." Hi; paused, gulped down u sob, a-nd continued: "Stranger, that 'ere Hush was .still busted. The queen was nuthin' but tho dog-goned eight o' clubs 1 thought I'd discarded. That en; queen had just slipped through my lingers, like the witnmen allers dues, sin' I " A heartrending sigh-finished the sentence, and for a few minutes the si- eiice spoke louder than the still, small voice of a new infant in the night. He sadly took up the narrative once more, and said: "The boys they wouldn't ii.Tiove I'd discarded wrong. They ;hought it war a put-up jolfjust like I'd l>e gol darned fool enough to lay iiy hand down for them to look at if I iiiew 'tworn'tall right! An' I had ter iime out o' there mighty quick, an' (Uisekently ain't had no ch'ance fer ter #>l even. 'An' I maintain it ain't right tin- treat a feller like that 'ere when •ic ain't done nothin wrong neither." "My good fellow," said the kind old gi-iitli.-inan, "you have my sympathy, nit this seems to me to bo"a lilting opportunity lo point out to you the evils jf tram " "Stranger," interrupted the other, "don't t'o no further. I appreciate yor kindness, an' all that, but thar liu't only one thing yer kin do for inc. If you'll take an' 'kick me from hero over to that 'ere gate yonder an' back again you'll do a poor sulTerin' creeter heap er good. There ain't nothin' Iso yer kin do; nnthiii' at all." "But, my good follow," remonstrated the other, "I " Thar's nuthin' else, stranger, nuthin' else. 1 ain't got no further use fer anythin' else but that." His head sank forward again on his chest, and despair seemed to cast a melancholy tinge on the very air that surrounded him. Ilealisdng that such sorrow was too deep to bo alleviated by human.sympathy, the clerical gentleman sighed and passed on. Tho American Girl In London. Clara (uimn tho announcement of her frlond's engagement to the duke )f Deadbroku)— "Did he lirst tell you that he loved you.dear.aiid then speak about ihe passionate yearning in his heart, and all that?" Maud -"Why, no." Clara-'-Didn't ho say something ubmit life's ; ,lonny ocean and about .its strong protecting arms that would Uways .shield you, and how, ever since ic buhi-ld you, hu had boon haunted by your pleading eyes, and his lovo liud gone out to you in a great pas- jionali) outburst? Didn't ho say that ifo without you would b (! a dreary waste?" Maud--"No; certainly not." Clara (impatiently)—"Then I should, like to know what the follow did say." Maud- -••lie didn't say u word. I did Uiu talking. "Life. The Chinese authorities employ foreignyrs almost exclusividywa custom age-nts in their thirty troatv Dorta.fear. agwits in thei to tl'Ubt riiiJfi 1 - Iti one of tfac?e houses a little 'x>v died Bt'i long siro- He was s hajj'fT -vx'UJiirsJer about 2 Tt-ar? ->id- Wi;!i his 4-year-old sister be played afx'at tiie nursery floor ia the second storv. Sometimes the surfe would hold him up t«» the window ••(• be co-aid look across the street or tvaH-h the cabl<Msars gc< by with the ringing of bells that.BO'pleased his t-hHd fancy. But "he tjisrse was earek-?? one day. She left the -K-indc'T up. and the dratijrht that came thrfajrh the room wa= laden w-tH the ^erm 1 that the doctnrs are telling ns~*o much about. Tbe little boy wae in bed with diphtheria the next morning. All of his toys were piled on the bed— tbe big. soft rubber doll that he liked so well was put close to him. He squeezed it to bis side with one chubby little hand for a moment, but the arm relaxed and dropped the playthinj:. He took no more interest, lie grew worse in a day. The doctors could not do much with an unreasonisijr little chap like that. And so he die"!. Every parent can imagine the gloom that hung over that Troost avenue mansion while a bit of white ribbon fluttered in the wind from a white ro.-etle pinned to the plate on the front door. The little sister had been taken away when the disease first broke out. so that at least one of those household treasures might be pret-erveu. But the funeral was over very soou—so little and unimportant was that wee dead body in the nursery—and the big house wat gloomy in its stillness. The father am! luotik-r wanted the little girl hurried back, but she was kept away until all danger was passed.' '•Where i< baby?" j^lie asked when slu- v.-as brought into the home.- The motlif-r tried to --mile. "He has gone a way -for iit long time." she said. "You must get alontr without him until he conies back from heaven." That nicrht the little girl cried for IKT brother, but the nurn- --she was a nev>- one, who would not be careless ab'iut draughts—told her that he had gone for :i }<>r.'j: visit. The next day the little [rirl was allowed to go to the window of the nursery and put her nose again.-t the flass while she watched the ears go by. She siood tJif-re for a Jong tim<-: then she cried out. suddenly: "Tin-re's brother! Look, nurse—it's baby'" The. new nurse lo'oked across the street, where a pretty, young mother slood at a window with a baby in her arm.-. The mother waved her'hand at the little girl. Pretty-soon the baby's wee eyes saw, and he waved too. '•Tell rnamina!" cried the little girl, anil the nurse, who was a sympathetic creature, ran down-stairs for 'the mother. "Look;" cried the 1fttie irirl, ns she v.a>ed her hand at the baby across the street. "That is heaven, mamma, for there is baby." But the mother's eyes could across the street. He Did His lisst. not see Very stout persons may sometimes bo notjt-ed glancing at other stout persons with a pleased expression that seerns to say, "Well, I am not as stout as that, anyway;" or "There i* some one who is quite as stout as I am." Evidently il is ;i consoling thought says the low/A',* Companion. The French Marshal Vivonno once indicated this feeling in a witty reply to the king. Vivonne and the'Comte d'Auvergne were probably the mo.st corpulent gentlemen of the court at that time. "Marshal, you are reaMy getting too fat," said the king. "You ought to take more exercise." "Your Majesty does not know, then, that 1 lake a great deal of exercise?" "No. what do you do?" "I walk around the Corn to' d'Au- verguu three timus every day." A HOMESPUN And HV1I , Too, In Words. TRAGEDY. Very Few '•Ton see that river ripplin' alono- so smilin' and pleasant," said Uncle Hiram, "an 1 you think a child needn't be afraid of it, but put thirty feet of water on top o' what's there now, and BOO how you'd like to faco it. Twice in my life I have seen it as I pray the good Lord 1 may pover see it again, as no man need ever want to see it. The lir.st time, long ago it was, Sam was twenty then an' he'd be a middle- aged man now, taught mo there wa'n't no confidence to be put in that stream and I've never trusted it seiice. "One June day Sam an' me started out to shoot a mess o' fish. I had the old gun, 'cause I was a better shot'n him, and he toted the net. How do you shoot lish? You climb a tree or big rock that's close to the water, an' when you sou a lish you want you just bhisse away, that's all; but you've o- 0 t to knoiv how mighty well, an' somebody's got to bo quick an' scoop 'im with a not before ho sinks. Well, we didn't seem to have no kind of luck, and before we knew it was two miles from borne. At last wo struck a place where there seemed to be some fish, an' I got up into a big pine that stood close to the water. Jest as I had found a comfortable roost I heard a sound that I've heard many a time among these mountains—a roarin' rushiii' noise as if every wind that ever blew was tearin" its way throti"h tho forest. Sometimes you can see, way off, the trees bend before it, while everything near you is as purty as a baby's smile. Sometimes you can't see anything, only hear the awful blast that's ravin'along somewhere. 'Father ' says Sam, 'do you hear that roarin'P' 'Yes,'say s I. Jest then I sighted a a rock big porch jabbin' his nose ao-i an" 1 (ired. I touched him but didn't kill him, an' he made towards daeu watov, Sum after him. r "Every minute it seemed as « Sam baa that net under him, but he kep' "gittin* ftwav, tiJl tfeey wag nigh half way ero^'the water* not bein' very deep there. Ail that time the roarin' had been groin' on. only we was too busy to take much notice, but all at once it eot iouder and seemed to come j fsvm round tbe beml, which wa'n't more'n a hundred yards above us. I looked no stream and saw something winch made me cold and sick all over. A white wall o" water, ten feet high, ni-hin" towards us, boilin' and foam- in", u'llin' the banks an' bearin' right down on my boy. Sam saw it as soon a? I did an"' made for Ihe shore, but jest s? he touched it the water caught 'irn an' whirled 'im away as if he'd been a bit o' bark. "He was a good swimmer, but no man could live in that Hood. I saw him beat the water with his strong arms, I saw him strugglin' an' makin; motions I couldn't understand. I sa,f bis white face for a minute, an' that was the last lime I saw my boy alive. Three days after they found 'him at Point Marion; his boots was oil an'- part of bis clothes. Then I knew what he had tried to do. He knew _he couldn't swim in his clothes an' tried to get them off. City chaps that don't know nothin' about "it come up here and laugh at us for bein' afraid of that, river. We've got a good right to be." A PLOT AGAINST MISS WOOD. Or, What VTas t)i«- Pule of HIP Youngr Man with the Ye-Ilow Mustache? There was once a young woman who had a voice. She dropped a nickel into a blind man's hat saying: "Here, my poor man." anil the grateful beggar exclaimed, "Thank you, colonel." Well, a girl with a voice like that got into a bixth avenue elevated car the other night, that was full of people going home from the theater. , She was very "pretty, and she knew it. She hac 1 bijr brown eyes and one of those peach- ripe complexions from which the blood seems always about, to spring. With her was a very young man, with a little yellow mustache and a limp collar. The young man was very warm and uncomfortable. He knew he wasn't behaving himself; he knew that, for- gi-tting the girl he was engaged to marry," he was being led along by those brown even into a flirtation. But he couldn't help himself. Brown Eyes—"Oh, you really must introduce me to your fiancee. I should so like to know her. Sho is such a lucky irirl." Yellow Mustache (faintly)—"Lucky? Why?" Everybody in tho car stopped talking and listened. That voice arose over the train's roar. Bmwn Eyes (reproachfully)—"Oh, how can you ask? But I am glad she is so far a\vay--Cincinnati, didn't you say?--or else I don't know what "she might do if she knew how much I have enjoyed myself this evening." Yellow Mustache—"I'm very glad, delighted, don't yer know—ami my— and she—Miss Wood isn't jealous." Tho brown eyes Hashed dangerously, but the fatuous young man did not see it. Brown Eyes—"How perfectly lovely 'that is. She must bo angelic. ' But do you know if 1 were fond of a man (very caressingly) I would bo jealous of every other woman." Yellow Mustache (falterin«-ly) — "Wouli you, indeed?" Brown Eyes (after a pause)—"Howlong do you remain ia New York, Mr. Bernard?" Yellow Mustache—"Aboutten days." Brown Eyes (delightedly)—"Oh, then, I shall see a great deal of you. You know you promised to come to dinner Sunday, and there is Tillie Richard's theater party, and " The train reached Seventy-second street and the pair alighted, Brown Eyes still rehearsing tho engagements she was making for Yellow Mustache. Yonng Married Woman (taking her husband's arm and squeezing it)—"Oh, dear, I do so pity thatyoun" man," Old Man With Dyed Whiskers (prophetically, to the world at large)—"It is ton to one that the youn" lady in Cincinnati gets loft." An Honest OiHeial. Did yon ever visit the departments after 2 in the afternoon? I did, and a huge placard telling mo there was no admission confronted mo at every on> But I wanted to go in and convenien ly ignored it. When it iirst stared' m in the face I was half-minded recognize it, but by unusually rapi thinking I formulated my plan, an with a sudden assumption of that bus ness-like and important air I've seen i the man who thinks he completely (ill all space, I sailed in and safely passe the wardens, and on into the desire haven. Only once have I met wit nimlranee, and that was in tho perso ol an eagle-eyed and grim-visage, veteran at the Treasury front. I A SUBMARINE HOODOO. hmely disregarded him, but ho wouli not stay so Ho hurried after mo and refused to be ignored. Neither woul ho believe 1 was deaf. " not an ordinary I told him I wai visitor, and that on "You coot not seo him." "I will give you a dollar." I yoost hat bay-day." "I will give you a k'isa." I bin marriet." "I represent the Kicker." "Certaiuely; go ride in." Authorities on Proimnclution. ca »?« ."'.'S . t !' al £°« Amorl- I'll i-eli ;> on : never "ward in the 1: knmv of ;• not fej said f cm, i nc ] tld i "This crnft wa.»fon.<lructo-l of iron, ifi the Hiy ( .f Mobile, and completed wa« 35 feet long. ' an( ] carry a crew of nine men, that it took ei-rlit men to W0 rk propeller and one to steer and rn late the movements of the boat bei the surface of the water. "The bonl eould IH> iMibiuero'ed'M pleasure to any desired depth or'cotild be propelled upon the surface !„ smooth, still water, as was ultimate, demonstrated, its movements could 1» exactly controlled, and thu speed wa« from four to five knots. It u-as by a man named Hunley. and ' completion the constructor that he would produce a sensation, "it was intended that when ready' f ot action Hie boatdiiring daylight should ascertain the position of some hie] eral warship at anchor, and ia dead hour of the night following p ^ under the keel of the monster and dropping a floating torpedo v \^ would explode on (striking the side or bottom of the vessel attacked. According to Mr. Hunley. his engine ol destruction could remain submerged more than half an hour without danger or inconvenience to the crew. "Well, sir, the boat was sent to Charleston by rail, and the day it arrived Lieut. Payne nf our navy and eight others volunteered to attack the Federal fleet. They got off nil ri»ht, and the boat behaved very well until a swell from a passing sleamer struck it, and it tipped over and went to .... bottom and all but Lieut. Payne were drowned. He was standing at ths open hatchway, or he would have perished with his brave companions. "But the concern was soon raised and a^ain made ready for service. And again Lieut. Payne and a gallant crew volunteered for a second attempt Ah! those were brave fellows, now, I tell you. But they were, doomed to death and disappointment, for, while lying oil Fort Sumter one morninc, ' the piratical little craft was capsized*,'' and again all were drowned but the' intrepid commander. "In a week or two, however, boat was again raised, and Mr. Htmlej' asked and was granted permission to make an experimental cruise in Cooper river. "At the drop of the handkerchief, sir! Yes. sir. Eight, as noble fellows as ever lived gave up their lives for tho lost cause. The theory was thai the boat became unmanageable after going under, as it was found nearly a mile from where it disappeared from the surface. "There were none left to tell tho tale this time—the-whole nine perished. But again the ill-fated craft was raised, And, do you believe me, sir? in twenty-four hours afterward Lieut. Dixon of the Twenty-first Alabama Volunteers, with eight other daredevils, had volunteered to attempt once more tbe destruction of the Federal Ueet. "In less than a week the boat sailed out of Charleston harbor and attacked and sunk the Federal steamer Housatonic—and then—and then her mission partly accomplished—she and her gallant nine disappeared .forever."Chicago Tribune* Tho Way to Make Them Mind. "The boys won't mind me," said the senior clerk to the head of the firm "I don't like to make a complaint, but when you go out they, do pretty much as they please and pay no attention to me." "That won't do," said tho businessman. "When I'm out you're in charge of the oflieo, of course." You don't try to impose on them?" "No, sir, I treat t.liQm with tho great"' est-consideration." "I don't understand it," said the business-man, thoughtfully. "Whew do you sit?" "At my desk, sir." "Samii desk you sit at when Pm in?" "Yes, sir." "Oho!" said tho business-man, "I begin to seo through it all. You haven't made a study of human nature, have \ you?" "Why, fi r) i -, "Young man," interrupted the business-man, "tho next-time I go outsit clown at my desk. Just plant yourself there in a business like way, »nd sing out \v;ien you wain, anyininjl done. It'll makn'all the dilioroucoui the world.—<,'/t/,;,,r /0 Tribune. What A Zonave Is, A local character in war times interested in the formation of a military company. He and othprr, discussed it much and public opinion I was about equally divided mi to whether they should have a straight military company or zouaves. One day a conversation occurred In tho village store. "I'm in favor of zouaves," said oW friwiui. "You be." "Sure." "Well, what is a zouave, anyway?" "Well, a zouave, you see, u ssouayaW- one of them fellers that wear a rod suit and them soft boots that buttons up to his knees, as I understand itjou see, he mostly—well, I gunss general' ly—ho gets clown and lave on his bell/ and deplores."— Lewisloh Journal Html to Explain—to Hen Whyto—I mado a Ifoarfgl piistato the other night, Browno—How so? Why to—Why, I told aoraobody bfr fore my wife that it was perfectly pof Bible to talk iu a, whisper over tho tol?" )hone, Browne—Well, what of thntP ' . Whyto-Oh, nothing, only the W flute she got mo alone with her she Wj istod on my telling her just lw» * nimo tv> find otil; that interestiagJ** —Soinerville Journal, w'ks.

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