The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on August 19, 1891 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, August 19, 1891
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THE UPPER DES MQINBS, ALGONA, IOWA. WEDNEDAY, AUGUS1 19 V 189L <'«"",? .fffi, S *£. t *- a f v ter ' >Vt m Is '} Jthey Htt*e Become indispensable In Modern War Ship*. Few pretentious ships built within the last five or six years, whether men of war or ocean steamers, are to-day unprovided with the electric light, and the electric light is of inestimable benefit, both below deck and above, to those who go down to the sea in ships. Very great strides have been made of late years in the improvement and use of projectors, or search lights, one; or more of which should certainly be curried by every steamer engaged in ocean traffic. _ Of course it. goes without saymg < that projectors have become practically indispensable in the equipment of modern war ships. Not only are the powerful beams of light which .they furnish, of great assistance in sicnaling and entering difficult harbors at nfeht, but they constitute a very valuable element of defense against torpedo attacks, and even against large vessels. A British naval officer in a paper on the subject of harbor defence, or ships versus forts, recently gave expression to the opinion that less expenditure on big guns and n little more on large search Tights would be distinctly advantageous. He instanced what would be utter bewilderment of the captain of an iron-clad endeavoring tc force a narrow passage at night time in the glare of a half-dozen well-handled projectors. An accidental but very valuable testimony to the value of the search light as a means of defence was given only a month or two ago by the loss in Cherbourg 1 harbor ot the French torpedo-boat "Edmond Fontaine," whose captain was dazzled by the rays of a search light. It is not the intention here, however, to i expatiate particularly on the search J light as an instrument of war on land or at * sea, but more particularly to refer to its value in times of peace, when by its use fearful catastrophies might be prevented or their efforts lessened. The terrible loss of life which occurred recently in Gibral- • tar bay, when the emigrant ship "Utopia was lost, would undoubtedly have been tar greater had it not been for the fact that all the vessels of the British squadron were well provided with search lights. The powerful rajs of light were concentrated on the spot where the ill-fated steamer sank, and the work of rescuing the struggling unfortunates who were battling for life with the angry waters, was carried on as if by daylight. If there had besn no electric light many ot those saved would certainly have been passed by and the death-roll _ would have numbered many more victims than it did. ., , There is no doubt that_ if every large passenger steamer was provided with sev' eral searchlights many dangers would be avoided and the yearly loss of life at sea would be greatly reduced. This statement applies specially to emigrant steamers, in which so many lives are in jeopardy in times of danger. 1t has been recommended that the equipmnnt. of such vessels with search lights should be made compulsory by the governments of the countries under whose flags they sail and at whose ports they touch. In foggy weather the search light forms a fur more reliable indication of a shin's wherea bouts than the gruff tones of the fog-horn or whistle. Thrown ?ip toward the fky the beam is discernable i, at a considerable distance, by the angle L, which it forms with th» surface of thewa- r>: ter, the direction in which the ship is steaming is made plain. Within recent years great improvements have been effected in the construction of projectors. Their efficiency has been increased so that u more powerful light is obtained with, a j^iven current, and the mechanical Dart of lamp has been so much improved that the greatest simplicity in working is obtained. Formerly it was necessary to regulate a projector .by hand, the lamp needing 'continual attention to maintain a good lisht and project it in the desired dira-.tion. Now all this is effected automatically arid a whole battery of searching lights can be mancevered by the captain of the vessel from the bridge or conning tower by simply pressing a key or turning a switch. ' As an instance of the simplicity of a search-light outfit, and the advantageous use to which it can bp put, it is only necessary to look to the navigation of tb° Suez canal. Vessels unprovided with the electric light can hire a complete plant when entering the canal either at Suez or Port Said. The whole arrangement can be sot up in an hour or two and the steamer can then go through, the canal at night. Formerly every ship in the canal had t« lie up to the banks at night and the passage often occupied fifty or sixty hours. Now it is generally made in eighteen or twenty hours _ and on some occasions even quicker time has been made.—Electricity. theron this ticket. Step aboard lively, now." "Never mind, captain. I would have to walk five miles back if I did. I lite over jondar. So long, captain."—Detroit Free Press. MONICA. LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS POBTIC .TU STICK. The ISoy had att Atrfdl Tim*, and It Served Them Right. asked find out for ourselves and' give her an il lustration of it tomorrow; but I don' ! "TICKETS, PJYBASE." A .Little Scheme All His Worked. Own And It "Tickets, please;" wild the conductor of a train on a line running out of Detroit,as he entered the car. There was a very general response in the shape of pasteboard until he came to a farmer who was very earnestly looking out of the window, "Tickets, please," said the conductor. The man naid no attention. "I'll take your ticket, if you please." The man looked up at him. "Hain't got any," he answered slowly. "Well, the money then. Where are you going?" ''Hain't pot any money. "Well, then, what are you on here for? If I don't get either money or ticket I must put you off the train." ."You wouldn't stop an express train just to put one man off, now would you?" "Wouldn't I? You'll soon see whether I will or not. Now I want your tipket or the cash without any more fuss." "Nary one." The conductor paused for a moment or two and then called the brakeman. "Now are you going to get off without a fuss, or will we have to throw you off?" The man sigred and said he would go off quietly. When they got out on the plattorm and the conductor had his hand on the bell rope, the passeuger cast his eye over the flying landscape and said: "Ain't .there no way we can fix this "Certainly. Ticket or money." After another look the man shook his head. "Let her go, captain. The conductor pulled the rope. The air brakes scrunched and the train oame to a stop. The man stepped off, and then, 'handing the conductor a bit of pasteboard said: "I don't cheat no railroad company, captain. Here ye are." "Why in thunder didn't you eive me "Father, what is poetic justice? Fred Stanley at the tea-table. "Bless the boy! What put that into his head?' 1 said mother. "Why, there was something about it in our reading lesson today, and when I asked Miss Thompson what it meant, she said we should see how many of us could O i .1 t. f . j I _ _ _ _ i _ _1 ••__•_ 1-_— — — * I 't know to find out unless jou tell me, father." Mr. Stanley looked thoughtful for a moment, and. then smiled as if struck by some amusing recollection. "Poetic justice," he said, is u hind of justice that reaches us through the unforeseen consequences of our unjust acts. I will tell you n little story. Fred, that, I think, will furnish the illustration you are after. "I recall a summer afternoon, a good many years ago, when I was not as large as I am now. Two other boys and myself went blackberrying in a big meadow several miles from home. On our way to the meadow, as we paddled along the dusty highway, we met a stray dog. Ho was a friendless, forlorn-looking creature, and seemed delighted to make up with us, and when we gave him some scraps of bread and meat from our lunch basket, he capered for joy and trotted along at our side as if to say, ''Now, boys, I'm one of you.' We named him Rover, and, boy like, tried to find out how much he knew, and what he could do in the way of tricks; and we soon discovered that he would 'fetch and carry' beautifully. No matter how big the stick or stone, nor how far away we threw it, he -would reach it and drag it buck to us. Fences, ditches, and brambles ho seemed to regard only as so_ many obstacles thrown in his way to try his pluck and endurance, and ho overcame them all. "At length we reached the meadow, and scattered out in quest of blackberries. In my wanderings I discovered a hornets' nest, the largest I ever saw -.and 1 have seen a good many. It was built in a cluster of blackberry vines, and hung low, almost touching the' ground. Moreover, it was at tke foot of a little hill, and as 1 scampered up the latter 1 was met at the summit by Rover, frisking about with a stick in his mouth. 1 don't know why the dog and the hornets' nest should have connected themselves in my "wind, but they did, and a wicked thought was born of the union. '"Rob! \Vill!' I called to the other boys; 'come here; we'll have some fun.' •'They came promptly, and 1 explained my villianous project. I pointed out the hornets' nest, and proposed thai we roll a stone down upon it and send Rover after the stone. 'And, Oh cracky, won't it ba fun to see how astonished he'll be when the hornets come out,' I cried in conclusion. They agreed that, it would be awfully funny. We selected a good-sized, round stone, called Rover's special attention to it, and started it down the hill. When it had a fair start we turner! the do;? loose, and the poor fellow, never suspecting our treachery, started after the stone with a joyous bark. Wfl hud taken good aim,, and as the ground was smooth the stone went true to its mark, and crashed into the hornets' nest just as Rover sprang upon it. In less than a minute the furious insects had swarmed out and settled upon the poor animal. His surprise and dismay fulfilled our anticipations, and we nad just begun to double ourselves up in paroxysms of laughter, when, -with frenzied yelps of agony, .lie came tearing up the hill toward us, followed closely by all tho hornets. " 'Run!' I shouted, and we did run; but the maddened dog ran faster, and dashed into our midst with piteous appeals for help. The hornets settled, like a black, avenging cloud, all over us, and the scene that followed baffles my power of description. We ran, we scratched, we rolled on the ground, and we howled with agony, till the meadows was, for the time being turned into a pandemonium. "I have never known just how long the torture lasted, but I remember it was poor Rover who rose to the emergency, and with superior instinct showed up a way to rid ourselves of our. vindictive assailants. As soon as he realized that we too were in distress, and could give no assistance, he ran blindly to a stream that flowed through the meadow not far away, and pluuged in, dived clear beneath the surface. We followed him, and oply ventured to crawl out from the friendly element when we were assured that the enemy had withdrawn; Then we sat on the bank of the stream and looked at each other dolefully through our swollen, purple eyelids, while the water dripped from our clothing, and a hundred stinging wounds reminded us what excessively funny fun we had been having with Rovor. "Tho poor dog, innocent and free from guile himself, judged us accordingly, and, creeping up' to me, licked my silent, sympathy. Then some .dormant sense of justice asserted itself within me. " 'Boys--,' I said, 'we've had an awful time, but, I tell you what it served us right.' "Neither of them contradicted me, and, rising stiffly, we went slowly homeward with Rover at our heels. "That, my boy," said Mr, Stanley in conclusion, "is a a good instance of poetic justice." LUMBER F1HM PAILS. It Did Business In Kansas and Colorado. CHICAGO, Aug. 14.—The St. John and Marsh company, lumber dealers, made a voluntary assignment today to Morton B. Hull. The company was organized six years ago, and did business in Kansas and Colorado. The value of the assets is 8253,000. They will certainly realize $150,000; liabilities, $146,000. The failure is due to the stringency in the money market and -the fact that the recent failures of the Peters Lumber company and Howell company have made it difficult for lumber men to get accommodations at banks. A.n attorney for the lirm asserts it will pay dollar for dollar if given time. NOT CONPIUMKD. this before? .You can ride five miles far- upon at the next meeting of the directors. Ueport Regarding World's Fair OJUciuls Krront'ous. CAIOAQO, Aug. 14.—The statement yesterday thar the nomination of Mr. Samuels tor chief of the horticultural department and .l)r. Peabody for chief of the bureau of liberal arts, were confirmed all around was erroneous. The national board of control ratified boib, but the executive committee of the local directory referred them to committees. Tuey will be acted OHAFtKR XVt. It Is not n tender voice. It Is not evens gentle or eoMly friendly voice. It !s, when nil is told. :i distinctly nnsry voice, full of possible reproaches nntl \vhement upbraid- in •-'•». Monica, raising her head \vitli extreme HIM-VOIIMIO---S. bus just time to see. Mr. Desmond in the biote Hi-tree above her, before he drops at her feel. "What on earth were you doing «i> there?'' asks she, thinking It wise to adopt the offensive style, so as to b« lirst in I he field, it-din? instinctively that a scolding is coin- hiK and that she deserves it, "Wan-hill!: 7/011,'' returns IIP, sternly, nothing dismayed by her assumption of injured innocence', so her little ruse falls (hroiurh. "A charming occupation, certain,y P says Miss BereslVnl, with lint! dlsjrnst. "1 climbed up into that, tree," says Mr. Desmond, savagely, "niul from il sun- that you ir.ive spent"your entire tl;iy will, that idiot, Hyde." "Do yuu think,'' says ^ llss Uurcslord, with awful calm, "that it was a acnllcnwn- ()/ thing to elimb into that tree, like u horrid school-boy, and spy upon a person?—do I/on?" "I don't," vehemently; "but I wns driven loit. 1 don't cave what is gentlemanly. I don't core," furiously, "what you think of me. 1 only know that my mind is now sitt-lsfltxl about yon, ami that. J know you arc the most abominable Jlirt in the, world, and that, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." "Well, I'm nut," with great self-pos.-,os- sion. "The•more, to your discredit! That only menus thai yon arc bent on doing it again." "1 shall certainly always talk to any man who talks to me.. That is," ciiUingly, "any man who knows how to conduct himself with propriety." "Meaning—I don't, I suppose?" "Certuiiiiy you don't." "Oh, if it comes flint," says Desmond, in tones of the deepest desperation, and as if nothing is left to expect but the deluge, in another moment. And, In effect, it comes. Not, as one hns been taught to expect, in sudden storm, and wind, and lightning, but lirst in soft light drops, and then in a perfect downpour, that bursts niwu them with passionate fury. As they are standing beneath a magnificent bcucli,they get hut a taste of the shower in reality, though Desmond, seeing some hmre drops lying on Monica's thin white gown, feels his heart smile him. "Here, hike this," lie says, roughly, taking off his coat and placing it round her shoulders. "Xo, thank yon." says Miss Beresi'ord, stiffly. "Von must," returns he, and, to his surprise, she makes no further resistance. Perhaps she is cowed by the authority ot! his manner; perhupn she doesn't like the raindrops. Encouraged, however, by her submission to a further daring of fortune, he says, presently,— "Yon might have given Oobbett a turn, 1 think, instead of devoting yourself all day to 1! at egregious ass." "lie prefers talking to llermia. I suppose yon don't want me to go up to people and ask them to bo civil to me?" "Some other fellow, tlit'ii." "Yon would 1m just as jealous of him, whoever he was." "I am not jealous at all," indignantly. "1 only object to your saying one thing to me and another to him." "What is the one thing I say to yon?" Tliis staggers him. "You must find me a very monotonous person if I say only one tiling to you always." "1 haven't found you so." "Then it—whatever it is must be one of tho most eloquent and remarkable speeches upon record. Do tell it to me." "Look here, Monica," says Mr. Desmond, cautiously evading a reply; "what 1 \yantto know is—what you see in Hyde. He is tail, certainly, but he is fat and effeminate, with 'n forehead villainous low.'" "Your own is very low," says Miss Bores- 1'onl. "If I thought it was like Ills, I'd make away with myself. And you listen to all liis stones, and believe them every one. I don't believe a single syllable he says; I never met sue.h a braggi-r. To listen to him, one would think ho had killed every tiger in Bengal. In my opinion, he never even saw one." "lies absents out toujoiirs tort," quotes slio. in a low, significant tone. Tliis is the fmsihing stroke. "Oh!yon defend him," ho says, as savagely almost as one of those wild boasts he has just mentioned. "In your eyes ho is a hero, no doubt, 1 duro say all women see virtue in a man who 'talks as familiarly of roaring lions as maids of thirteen do of puji- ]>y-dogs,"' "I don't think maids of thirteen, as a rule talk much of puppy-dogs. I'm sure Kit doesn't," says Monica, provoklngly, "And really, to do Mr. Kydo justice too, I never :heard him mention a roaring lion. Perhaps yon are thinking of Artemus Ward's lion that goes about 'seeking whom he may devour somebody.'" She smiles in a maddening fashion. "I mn thinking of Kyde," says Do.smond. "1 am thinking, too, how mad I was when I thought you liked me better than him. I did think it, you know; but now the delusion is dispelled. It is plain to me you are infatuated about this follow, who is 'perfumed like a milliner' and hasn't two ideas in his head." . "I can't think where you find all your quotations," says Monica, who is now seriously annoyed; "but I must ask you not to worry me any further about Mr. Hyde." "You are madly in love with him," says Desmond, choking with rage. Upon which Miss Berest'ord loses the last remnant of her patience, and very properly turns her back on him. The rain has ceased, but during its reign has extinguished tho dying sun, which has disappeared far below tho horizon. A great, hush and silence has followed tho petulant burst of storm, and a peace unspeakable lies on all the hind. There is a little glimpse of the ocean far away beyond tho giant fires, and one can see that its waves are calm, and the fishing-boats upon its bosom scarcely rock. The grass' is bending still with the weight of the past rain, and a plaintive dripping from tho trees can bo heard,—a refreshing sound that lessens tho sense of heat, The small birds stir cozily in their nests.and now and then a drowsy note breaks from one or another; a faint mist, white and int'.ingiblo, rises from the hills, spreading from field to sky, until "The ciirlli, with tioavon mingled, in tho slmd- owy twilight Jny, Anil the white hulls beemed like specters la a cloud-luud fur aiv:<y," "Ah 1 you don't like mo to say that," says Desmond, uuiippcased by the beauty of the growing night; "but—-" "Do not say another word," says Monica, imperiously. The moon is rising slowly,— slowly,—and so, by the bye, Is her temper. "I forbid you. Ilc-re." throwing to him his coat; "l think r have before remarked flint the ruin is quite over, t hm sorry. I ever touched anything belonsrins to > on." Desmond haviiii: received the eoat, and put himself into it once mor,-, silence ensues. It does, pr-i-linps, Strike him ns n hopeful siirn that she shows no haste to return home and so rid herself of a presence she has inadvertently declared to be hateful to her, because presently he says, simply, if a little, warmly,— "There is no IHC In onr quarreling like this. I won't eive you up without a further slruirirle, to mi|/man. So \ve nmy »s well have it out now. Do you emv for that— for Kyde?" "If you hnd asked mo that before,—sensibly,— yon might have, avoided mnklii!: an exhibition of yourself mid snyimj many rude things. I don't in the least mind telling you," says Miss Ueresford, coldly, "that! ain't bear him." "Oh, Monlrn ! Is this fn/c?" asks IIP, In an nsiony of hope. "Quite true. Hut yon don't deserve I should say It.'' "My darling! My 'one thins,' bright' In all tills liatef nl world I Oh I" throwinsup his head with an impatient gesture, "I have been so wretched all this evening 1 I have suffered the tortures of tin- " "Now, you innsn't say naughty words," Interrupts she, wlllian adorablesiuile. "You are glad I have forgiven you?" This Is how she puts if, and ho Is only too content to bo friends with her on any terms, to show further fight. "More than glad.' 1 "And yon will promise me never to bo jealous again'.'" Tills Is a bitter pill, considering his former declaration that jealousy and he had nothing to do with each other; but lie swallows It bravely. "Never. And you—you will never again give me cause, darling, will you 1 ."' "1 gave yon no cause now." Miys the darling, shaking her pretty bend obstinately. And he doesn't .dare contradict her. "You behaved really badly," she goes on, reproachfully, "and atsili-h a lime, loo,—just, when 1 was dying to tell yon xiie/i good news." "Good 1 . 1 —your mints—" eagerly, "havere- lented—they " "Oh, no! oh. il':iir, no!" MI.VS Miss Beres- 1'ord. "They are harder limn ever against you. Adamant Is a N/»I»!/'' In comparison witli them. It isn't that; hut Madame O'Connor has asked me to go and slay with her next Monday for a we'-kl—I here, I" "And nu' loo?" "N—o. Aunt I'rlseillii made il a condition with regard to my goim: that you shouldn't be there." "Tho • And .Madame O'Connor gave in to sueii abominable, tyranny?'' "Without a murmur.'' "1 thought she had a above that, sort of thing," says Mr. Desmond, with disgust. "Diittiioyiiri- all alike." "Who 1 . 1 - -women'. 1 " "Yes." "Von menu lo tell niv thai 1 am like Aunt Prise-ilia and Madame O'Connor'. 1 " "Old women, 1 mean," with anxious haste, seeing :i cloud deseondlm: upon I In- brow of his beloved. "Oh I" "And, after all, il i« food news," says Brian, brightening, "bivu.ixs though I can't stop In the house for a week, still there U nothing to prevent my riding ovei there every on; 1 of the, seven days," '•'nnit's just what I thought," says Monica, ingenuously, with a sweet little blush. "All! yon svishod for nit. 1 , then'. 1 '' She refuses to answer this in any move direct manner that her eyes afford, but says, ipiii'.kly, doubtfully,— "It won't be dec.civiivr Aunt I'rl.M-ilhi. your coming there to visit, will H? She must know she cannot- compel Madame O'Connor to forbid you the house. And she knows perfectly you are an intimate friend of hers." "Of course she does. She is a regular old tyrant.,—a Bluebeard In petticoats; but " "No, no; you must nol: abuse her,' 1 says Monica; so he becomes silent. She is sliiiiding very close to the trunk of the old beech, hall! leaning against it upon one arm which is slightly raised. She has no gloves, but long white mittens that reach above her elbow to where the sleeves of her gown join them. Through the little holes in tho pattern of these kindly mittens her white arms can be seen gleaming like snow beneath the faint rays of the early moon. With one hand she is playing some Imaginary nir upon the tree's bark. As she so plays, tiny sparkles from her rings attract his notice. "Those live-little rings," says Dusmond, idly, "always remind me of the live little pigs that went lo market,—I don't know why." "They didn't all go to market," demurely. "One of them, I Know, stayed at home." ".So he did. I remember now. Somehow it miikes me feel like a boy again." "Then, according to J loud, yon must bo nearer heaven than you were a moment ago." "I couldn't! 1 ' says Desmond, turning, and looking Into her beautiful eyes. "My heaven has been near me for the last half-hour." If he had said hour he would have been closer to the truth. A soft, lovely crimson creeps Into her cheeks, and her eyes fall before his for a moment. Then she laughs,—a gay, mirthful laugh, that somehow puts sentiments to (light. "Go on about your little pigs," she says, glancing at him witli coquettish mirth. "A bout your rings, you mean. I never look at them that I don't begin this sort of thing." Here, seeing an excellent opportunity for it, betakes her hand in his. "This little turquoise went to market, this little pearl stayed at home, this little emerald got some—er—cheese " "No, it wasn't," hastily. "It was roast beef." "So it was. Better than cheese, any day. How stupid of me I I might havo known an emerald—I mean, a pig—wouldn't like cheese." •"I don't suppose it would like roast beef a bit better," says Monica; and then her lips part, and she bursts into a merry laugh at the absurdity of the thing. Shu is such a child still that she linds the keenest enjoyment in it. "Never mind," with dignity, "and permit me to tell you, Miss Berest'ord, that open ridicule is rude. To continue; tills little pearl got none, and this little plain gold ring got—he got—what on earth did the little plain gold pig—I mean, ring—-get?" "Nothlny. Just what you ought to get for such a badly-told story. Ho only cried, 'Wee.'" "Oh, no, indeed. Ho slm'n'l cry at all. I won't have tears connected with you hi any way." She glances up at him with eyes half shy, and pleased, and with the prettiest dawning smiles upon her lips. lie clasps the slender fingers closer, as though loath to part with them, and yet his talu has come to a climax. "If I have told my story so badly, perhaps i had bi-tier toll it all over again," ho says, with a base assumption of virtuous regret. "No. I would not give you that trouble for thu world," t>hosa>s, mischievously,uud then the dawning smile widen*, brlj "' into something indescribable, but perl "Oh, Monlai, I do think you are tag ebttiliufou euilh," $uyulh,e with hiiddou fervid passlo.u; once, nnci lor tlie nrst time, lie puts one ms nnns inipuNively :ind draws her to him. She ,.„!,,fs,—still smilin -. however,--mid, after u brief hesitation, innves slowly but decidedly b:ick from hint. ""Yon don't l«lti* me lotnncli \on.doyou?" asks he. rather hurl. "No. nn. imleeit!" himietlly. "Only " "Only what, darllna?" "1 hiir.ll> know what," she answers, look- In.e bewildered. "Terhapi because it is all so strange. Why should yon love me better limn any one'.'-nnd vet yon do," an .lonsly, "don't you?" The Iiiiiiu'cntly-expivsHed anxiety makes his heart irhul. "I adore yon," he says, fervently; and then, "Did no one ever place his arm round yon Jx'/orc, Monica?" He limls a difficulty in even asking this. "Oh, no," with intense surprise nttheques- tlon, mid a soft, quick trlance that Is almost shinned. "1 never had a lover In my life until 1 met yon. No one except yon ever told mo I was pretty. The fust time you said it 1 went homo (when 1 was out of your sight," reddening, "I ran all the rest of the way) and looked at myself hi tho glass. Then," naively, "I knew you were right. Still 1 hurt my doubts; so I called Kit and told her about It; and she," laughing, "said yon were evidently u person of great discrimination, sol supposed she agreed with yon." "She could hardly do otherwise." "Yet, sometimes," says Monica, with hesitation, and with » downeasi face, "I have thought it was all mere fancy with you, mid that you don't love me raill-l/."' "My sweetheart, what a cruel thing to say to me!" "Hut see how you scold me! Only now," nervously plucking little bits of bark from the tree, "yon accused meof dreadful things. Yes, sometimes 1 doubt yon." "1 wonder when- 1 leave room for doubt? Yet. 1 must convince yon. What shall I swear by, then?" he asks, half laughing; "the chaMe Diana np above—(lie lovers' friend—is in full ulory to-ni^ht; shall I swear by her?" "Oil, swciir not by the moon, the inconstant 1111:011, lest that thy love prove likewise variable," quotes she, archly; "and yet," with a sudden change of mood, and a certain sweet gravity, "1 do not mistrust you." She leans slightly toward him, and, unasked, gives her hand Into Ills keeping once again. She is full of pretty tender ways and womanly tricks, and as for the best time for displaying them, for this she lias a. natural talent. Desmond, clasping her hand, looks at her keenly. Ills whole heart is In his eyes. "Tell me that you love me," he says, In a low, unsteady voice. "How ean I? I don't know. I'm not sure," she says, falterlniily; "and," shrinking a lilt le from him, "II is liTowing very late. See bow the moon has risen above the lirs. 1 ninsl no home," "Tell in;- yon love me first." "I 7»us/ not love you; yon know that." "But if,you m:u;hl, you could?" "Ye.—es'." "Then 1 defy all difficulties,—mints, and friends, ami lovers. 1 shall win yon In the teelh of all barriers, and in spite of all opposition. And now K<> home, iny heart's de- diillght, my best hclyved. 1 havo this assurance from you, that your lips have given me, and it. makes me, confident of victory." "Hut if yon fail," she begins, nervously; bnl, he will not lisl.'ii lo her. "There is no such word," he says gayly. "Or, If there is, I never learnt It. Goodnight, my love." "Goud-night," A little frightened by his iMippy vehemence, she stands well away from him, and holds oul her hands in farewell. Taking them, he opens llii'.m gently and presses an impassioned kiss on each little pink-tinged palm. With a courteous reverence for her evident .shyness, ho then releases her, and, raising his hat, stands motionless until she has sprung down tho bank and so reached the Moync fields again. Then she turns and waves him a second and last good-night. Hetnrning the salute, he replaces his lull, on his head, and, Ihrusl- ins bis hands deep in his pockets, turns toward Coole-.and dinner. He Is somewhat late for the. latter, but Ihis troubles him little, so set is his mind upon the girl who has just left him. Surely she Is hard to win, and therefore— h ,10 desirable,! "The women of Ireland," says tin ancient chronicler, "are the coyest, the most coquettish, yet. withal the coldest and vlrUiousest women on earth." Yet, allowing all Ihis, given time and opportunity, they may be safely wooed. What Mr. Desmond complains of bitterly, in his homeward musings to-night, is the fact that to him neither lime nor opportunity is afforded. "She is a woman, therefore to be won;" but how is his courtshlpto be sped, if thorns are to bi.'scl his path on every side, and if persistent imilicu blocks ids way lo tho feet of her whom he adores? He reaches home in an unenviable frame of mind, and is thoroughly unsociable to Owen Kelly and the old Squire all theeven- IllK. Next morning sees him in tho same mood; and, Indeed, it is about this I him he takes to imagining his little love as being a hapless prisoner in the hands ot two cruel ogres (1 am afraid he really does not apply tho term "()!• res" to (lie two old ladies of Moyne), and finds a special melancholy pleasure in depicting her as'a lovely captive/condemned to solitary eonliir'mont and dieted upon bread and water. To regard the Misses Blake in tho light either of ogres or witches required some talent; but Mr. Desmond, at this period of his love-affair, managed it. me, ;ii.u, Win oe nincn nnpplef." "f'fiimice is uood for the smtl, 1 shall stay here," says Desmond. "If we mean to itet up tableaux, we cer- ;;iinly oiuht to set about them atonce,"say3 Hermia Herrick Indolently. "There doesn't seem to b.; any work In uiybudy." says Oii;a, in despair. '•Try me," say* Lord Itossmoyne, bend- ina; over her ch'iir. lie has only just come, anil his arrival has been unannounced. "Ah! tlxtnk : uiu!" —with ;i brilliant smile. "Now you i/o look like bushiest." 11 i> Monday, and fmir o'clock. Aphyo- iiilllies;' lyini basking in the sunshine Is look* iuii iis loveliest.- which is saying a great .leal. The heal is so intense on this sweet July da\ that i-vtTV one has deserted the IIIMIXP and point! out to find some air,—a difficulty. They have tried the grass terraces, in vain, and now have congregated beneath a giant fir. and nre, comparatively <p.-liking, rnnl. .lust tic fore luncheon Madame O'Connor broiikihl Monica home In triumph witli her from Mo> uc, to Mini Desmond, handsome ind happy, on her door-«tcp, waiting with valm ei'lainly an invitation !•> that inenl. lie 1:0! II. mid one to dinner likewise. "\Ve lm\e sei our hem Is on tableaux, but 11 is NO difficult to think of any scene fresh mid unhaclviieji d," says Olirn, .na/.im; pbiin- tiviy Into Lord l!nssinmlie's sympathetic face. "Don't L'ive away," siys Mr. Kelly, tenderly. "It miisl he a poor Intellect that coiildrr't rise superior to such a demand as thai. Given one minute, 1 believe even I could produce an Idea as novel as It would be brilliant." "Yuu shall have your minute," says Olga, pulling out her watch. "Now lie-in " "Time's up," she says, presently, when »ixly seconds have honestly expired. "You miirlit have said that thirty -econds MHO. and 1 should not, have objected," says Mr. K -lly. with an assured smile. "And your idea." '"/'/ii- //iif/wini/N.'" Need 1 sa\ I. nl every one is exceedingly mmry; "Kvcr heard it before?" asks Mr. Kelly, with iurirri"<slvii Insolence; which qui-slion, belnir considered as addinir insult to injury, is treated w'.l i ••Ih-ni contempt, To bo continued. CAKNTVoTtOUS PAHUOTS. CIIAPTHIl XVII. "I wish yon would all attend," says Olga Bohun, just a littlo impatiently, looking round upon the assembled group, with brow uplifted and the point of a pencil thrust between her rose-red lips. "Thrice-blessed pencil I" murmurs Mr. Kelly, in nvury stage whisper. "Man Is the superior being.yet ho would not be permitted lo occupy so exalted a position. Are you a stone, Koiuiyne, that you can regard the situation with such an Insensate facj?" Mr. Itonayne is at this moment gazing at Mrs. Bohun with all his heart In his eyes. He starts and colors. "I cannot help thinking of that dear little song about the innocent daisy," goes on Mr. Kelly, with a rapt expression. "But I'd 'choose to bo a pencil, if J might be a llower!'" "Now ct'i let us decide upon something," says Olgu, taking no heed of this sally, and frowning the smile that is lighting for mastery. "Yes; now you are all to decide upon something at once," says Mr. Kelly, gloom- ly. "There is a difficulty about tho right way to begin it, but it must budouo; Mrs. Bohun says so. There is to be. no deception. I shall say one, two, three, and away, and then every one must havo decided; the defaulter will be spurned from the gates. Now I one, two-—Desmond," sternly, "you lire not deciding!" "I am, indeed," says Desmond, most UUT truthfully. He Is lying on tho grass playing Idly \vj|b,;: ' i ,4»«rl<.'i'V>4yfi4 [mwaoj They Fount on tho Fill of Sheep, til nil I,«»TO Thorn to Ulo. llnrpcr'e Mngiizluo. The ken, or mountain-parrot, of New Zealand, a greenieh-brown_ bird, formerly as harmless as others of his class, has developed a carnivorous habit us fastidious tut that of epicures. It used io feed on tho berries tlwtfjrow luxuriantly on the hills, but, it has changed that simple diet since tho multiplication of sheep; perhaps fires, too, nnido the natural food scarce. It now tnkea a terrible revenue on its unconscious enemy. Fastening itself on_ tho buck of: n poor sheep, perhaps stuck in a snow-drift, and savagely tearing away Wool, skin, and flofih, it plunges its powerful beak into tho kidney fat, which it devours, and then leaving one victim to die in agony, goes off in search of another. Though it in as difficult to feel individual nffectioii for sheep-where they are slaughtered by millions us it would bu to care for hogs in Chicago, the most, unsentimental shepherd cannot refrain from pitying one of his own Hock that ho finds in such a condition, and from invoking maledictions on tho whole race of koas. How they found out tho kidney fat was such a delicacy can only bo conjectured—perhaps in the sumo indirect manner in which Charles Lamb's Chinairan discovered that young roast pig was good; a kea saw a sheep devouring his regular supply _of food, and defending his property with what bonk and claws ho had, nis tongue came in contact accidentally with kidney fat. From that moment the satisfaction of appetite and the gratification of vendetta were united. UKVOIjUTlONl/lXG COMMI5HCB. Thii LiitttHt Hlylo of Ship lor Coinmurcliil J'lirjIOHUH. The whiilelmck is tho coming boat for commercial purpones. Of that I am certain." Captain Alexander McDongal, the Scotchman, who, during the past four years, has labored for tho whaleback as tho commercial currier of the world, thus enthusiastically addressed a reporter tho other night. "Tho mills of our company," he went on, "will bo completed in not more than two months' time, and then we will at once begin the building of several 'whulebacks,' which will do service on tho Atlantic. The trip of our first 'whale- back,' the Charles \V. Wotmoro, from Du> luth, Minn., I believe has demonstrated tho worth of tho idea, and I expect that in time tho boat will be tho one which will be used entirely for commercial purposes. Wo will also construct a 'wlwlobuck' steamship, which will bo in use during the World's fair, and, in fact, the work has already begun on it. She is to be 450 feet long, and wo will so arrange her that she carry, without diflienlty, 2,000 passengers. The grout lakes," said tho veteran captain, "1 prophecy, will he the future shipyards whore Atlantic liners will be built." The "whalolmck" is a cigar-shaped boat, with decks covered, and thus it is rendered impossible for her to ship seas in rough weather, us is a usual occurrence with other vessels where the cargo is frequently destroyed. The Wet more, the first of the whulebacks, was built on the lakes and arrived at Liverpool on July2lst with 85,000 bushels of grain. On her arrival at Liverpool she was visited by hundred of experts in tho art of nuvul construction, and by thousands of others who were glad to pay an admission fee in order that they might inspect her. It is the intention of Captain McDougal that they will carry large cargoes of frieght througti the lakes and across the Atlantic. According to the re* ports tho Wetniore had much _ heavy weather and she acted better in it than the ordinary steamers do, owing to her peculiar make. Captain McDougal was much grieved to learn of the death on last Thursday of Captain Saunders, who took her across and who expired suddenly o:' heart disease in his cabin. The vessel so- cured a new captain, and on Friday she left for New York with a huge cirgo of machinery. Captain McDjugal saiu that he could not at present state anything about the plans for the building of "whale- backs" for the passenger traffic. THE SUt'l'LY FAILING. Artificial Gas to Take the Place of Natural. CHICAGO, Aug. 14.—The Ohio FuplGas company, with an authorized capital of $5,000,000, was incorporated at (Spring- Beld, IIU M today. TmoMoP G. Nail, (if this city, who jjt at, the head of tlje wells in

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