The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on April 19, 1893 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Wednesday, April 19, 1893
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THE TTPPER DES MOtNES. ALGOKA. IOWA. WEDNESDAY. APRIL 19. 1893. A f 01 JTIOAL DEAL. Alfred Boclker, Jr., in Amherst Montihiy: Ilegii-akl Thompson's face was clouded as ho lounged on the window-sent, and even the smoke wreaths from his pipe floated away with an ttlr of dreariness. Reginald was only a sophomore, yet he was taking a farewell looks nt his books, the pictures and the nicknacks in his room. In a short time he was t:o be expelled from college. A few evenings before a Ircshman had been suddenly seized while stroll ing about the campus and had been blindfolded before lie could catch more than a glimpse of Ills assailant. He had been led away and hazed. In the midst of the fun his tormentors were interrupted by the approach of a watchman. They fled around a corner, only to encounter another man. But he was hurrying to catch a train and had no time to trouble himself about the disturbance. So the fugitives passed him without interference and there was no one to tell who they were unless the •victim himself luul some idea. And, in iact, the latter had stated most positively that one of his tormentors had been Reginald Thompson; that he had not only recognized Thompson's voice b but had even caught a glimpse of him. 9 - F - •* The accused denied the charge in vain; only las most intimate friends would believe him, for he had not been in his room on that evening; and no one could say where he had been. The laws of the college provided that hazing be punished with expulsion; but first the student must come before the college senate, and without tho sanction of this body no act- tion could be taken A meeting of tho senate had, therefore, been called by the president, but had been postponed, because one of the sophomore members had not yet been elected. Thomijson's chum and roomfmato William, McMastcr, was the president of the sophomore clnss, and was using his influence to the utmost to help his friend. Reginald knew this, and his face brightened considerably when McMastcr burst in on his meditations on tho window seat. "Hello, Reggie!" he cried. "Stop your age and waited patiently. It was only a few minutes later that he heard the latch behind him turn, and looking around lie saw Bofden's mastive ugly head poked through the half-opened door. "The president sent me to summon the culprit to reappear before the meeting," said the senator jeerlngly* "Will you kindly follow?" Reginald bit his lip's and followed, but liis resolve not to flinch was strong and he stood before the president's desk without wavering. Then the president said, "Reginald Thompson, the senate has decided that on account of your actions against the freshman whom you hazed you are unworthy to be any longer a member of the college. Hereafter you will attend none of the recitations of exercises." Reginald turned, and was just walk- Ing towards the door when it flew open and in rushed McMaster folloAved by another man. The clnss president was excited, and he evidently brought news. His eyes were flashing, lite cheeks were reddened with running, and a smile of exultation touched his lips. Then, remembering the decorum proper before the president, he checked himself and said as calmly as his excitement would allow, "Mr. president, I excuse my Interruption; I hope that you have not yet voted upon this matter, for I have found a witness." '•'I am veiy glad to hear it," replied the president, "for we want all possible light. What has the witness to say? It is not to late, If it is any tiling of importance." The new corner stepped forward, and after a moment's hesitation addressed the president: "As I was hurrying to catch a train on last Friday evening, I heard the watchman shouting, 'Stop those fellows! Stop them!' And at the same time two college men ran past me at full speed, had only just time enough to catch my train, • so, without tailing much notice of the trouble, I hurried on. Today when I returned from my trip, I found the whole college talking about some hazing that had been done on the evening when I left town; I found that Thompson of the sophomore class had been accused of being one of the scowling now, old man, and cheer up. I have some good news, "Well, Bill, what is it?" asked Reginald, with a sinilo that was almost gloomy. "The election Avill be tomorrow, and Townsond is going to run for senator- ship," began the other as ho sat down and • tshovcd both his hands into his pockets. "All of our crowd will of of course.vote for liim, and I made a deal with the Theta Epsilons, so that they will be in for him too." "it is awfully kind of you, Bill, to take so much trouble for me." .,-*.-• "Como now, you had better keep ' your thanks until you are well out of this scrape. I have seen all the senators, and they seem, to bo equally divided for aaul against you, so that Townsend's election is absolutely necessary." "Who else will ran for senator?" asked Reggie. "Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you that. The other side will vote for Bordeu." "Tha,t's bad news. I always hated that man and I guess he was not over fond of me. He is a low, mean sort of a fellow." "Yes, I know," answered MoMaster, "and ho has a strong pull with the ouden's. But ho won't stand a ghost of a show. Now I must go and canvass somo more votes. So I'll see you later," and with this assurance McMaster left his friend to relight his pipe. The next 'day .loame and witih it the sophomore election. As Bill McMaster entered the room arm in arm with Townsend he was greeted with a cheer. But he took little notice of tho greeting and sat down apparently in anxious thought. A little later, a short, thick-set man entered culprits and that as such he was to be expelled from college. I asked for particulars, and It was proved to me that the two men'who,ran past me as I was going to my train last week, were the vory ones who had done the hazing. Reginald Thompson, sir," the last sentence was said very deliberately— "Reginald Thompson was not one of these two." The whole room had been perfectly quiet while the testimony was beiu, given, and when it was finished there was a look of relief upon the faces of all, with one exception. The president smiled with satisfaction for he had been troubled throughout the affair by the steady denial of the supposed culprit; and most of tho senators shared Ills feelings, even those who hod voted against Thompson; Alvaii Bordeu alone did not feel the universal pleasure. If one had watched him while the witness' luul been speaking, one would have seen how those deep-sunken eyes flashed with hate, and how he longed to pounce, like a tiger, upon the witness and stop his testimony. But no 0110 noticed him, and when the witness had finished, and all eyes turned towards the president, the senator's too, followed in forced composure. Tlieu the pjresfdout, remembering liis duty, asked of the witness: "Since Mr. Thompson was not one of the two men whom you met, can you tell us who they wcreV" "One of them* I refuse to name," was the reply, "for the punishment of tho other will be enough for a precedent. Ho was Mr. Bordeu." If the meeting had been surprised when Reginald had been proved not guilty, it was still more so at this sudden accusation of tho real culprit and all looked towards Borden expecting on liis part at least a BY HUGH CONWAT, AMOwr of "Called Back." Eta. Etc. "Oh, yes. I'll let you know fast enough, f ou'll be one of the first I shall come and see. Now, If you've nothing more to say, I'll ask to be taken back to my dinner. Good and plentiful as the fare is, I like it better hot than cold." The stolid warder could not help smiling. The time usually allotted for an interview with a prisoner had by no means expired. It was a new experience to find a convict of his own free will curtailing his privilege. He turned inquiringly to Mrs. Miller. "Got anything more to say to him?" he asked. "No," she answered sullenly. The convicl made her a polite bow as she turned and walked to the door of her own den. She stood outside on the gravel for a moment, and gazed moodily after No. 1,080 as he was conducted by his guardian across the open space and vanished from sight round the chapel on the way to his own cell. Then she entered the waiting-room, where she found the civil official who had at first accosted her. From him she ascertained the proper office at which the inquiry she wanted answered should be made; and upon applying there learnt that No. 1080, supposing he continued to conduct himself as he had hitherto done, that is, earning the maximum of eight good marks a day, would obtain his tlcket-of-leave in about six months' time. "Then what becomes of him?" she asked. "Do you just put him outside the gate, and tell him to be oil?" The officer smiled. "Oh dear.no. He is asked if he has any friends to go to, or where he wants to go to. His fare Is paid to that place. He is given a suit of clothes and a lit I le money. After that he must do the best he can." Mrs. Miller looked thoughtful. "Is there any one I could write to and ask to be told tho day ho will come out?" she asked. "Certainly. If you are a relation or friend, and willing to look after him, and wrote to the governor to that effect, no doubt you would hear from him." "Thank you," said Mrs. Miller. Then she gathered up her black skirts and left the prison. She found her cab, and was driven I tack to the railway station. It was some time before a train left forWoymouth; so she climbed to the top of the Chesil Beach, itnd sat down gazing out over the sea. Her lips moved, although the rest of her body was motionless. She was praying, and the petition she offered up was that Heaven in Its mercy would remove from earth a certain convict before the day came upon which he would be entitled to demand his freedom. A curious prayer for a religious woman to make, but after all not stranger than the prayers ottered up by antagonistic armies. Tho train started at last, and took her to Weymouth. Here she obtained refreshment, of which, Indeed, she stood much In need. Somehow she made a mistake In the time, and missed the afternoon train. The conpe- quenee was that it was past eleven o'clock when she rang the bell of that methodically- conducted establishment, Hazlewood House. And the rule of Hazlewood House was that no servant should on any pretense be out of doors after half-past nine, or, unless the presence of company demanded it, out of bed after half-past ten. Her masters were In waiting, and at once took her to task. She explained that she had missed tho train. "What train?" asked Horace. "The train from Weymouth, sir." "But Miss Clauson told us you were gone to London." "Miss Clauson made a mistake, sir." Horace felt nettled at the idea of any one who held even a vicarious authority from himself making a mistake. So he said, with Rome asperity, "This must not occur again, Mrs. Miller." "And," added Herbert, "the next time you want a holiday kindly mention the fact to us as well as to Miss Clauson. We have a rule in these matters." Mrs. Miller courtesied, and left the room. "Sim is a curious-looking woman," said Horace. "1 wonder if we were right in taking her without a character?" the room amidst, applause almost as loud as that which had greeted McMaster and Townsend. In acknowledgement of the applause he bowed his large head with its matted covering of black, curly hair, and smiled with a look of superiority. It was Alvan Borden, the other candidate. His coarse features were full of character, and liis small, dark eyes twinkled from shaft-like depths. One could see .it first sight the power and ability of the man; yet it seemed ability more for bad than for good. Since ho had thought It would be awkward if not delicate Thompson did not come to tho meeting. When the room was well filled, McMaster arose and called the meeting to order, and they proceeded to tho election of the senatou. Besides Townsend and Borden. there was 1 one other nominee. The informal ballot was collected, and showed 46 votes for Townsend, for Borden 37, and a few for the third man. This result made McMaster feel assured, as he called gaily for the second ballot, that Townseud could be elected. But then the votes were again collected, and the secretary read, "Townsed has forty-seven votes and Borden llfty. Mr. Bordeu Is elected." This time McMaster looked around helplessly. He felt that his chum's last chance was gone. Ho had not expected defeat and it was some time before his feelings allowed him toasl "Is there any further business?" That same evening the mooting of the senate was held, and both Reginald and the victim of tho hazing appeared. Again the freshman tolii the story of the hazing and accused Reginald of being ono of his tormentors; and again tho sophomore denied the charge, but acknowledged that he had no proof, "Vory woli," said the president, who presided over tho meeting, "If you have nothing elsu to say hi your defense, you may withdraw to the next room and await the decision of the senate. He .would bo ashamed to show wealujiesfci^iSo he mustered up his '»>.' denial of the allegation. But they were disappointed, for with a look of dogged iudlffoirence he •waited silently until the president had asked, "Do you acknowledge these things, Mr. Borden?" Then indeed his sullen eyes flashed In their deep sockts, and since he saw that tho denial was useless he answered, "I do." PHILOSOPHY OF COATS. What Some Persons Need to Make Them Real Gentlemen. Buffalo Cominerial. —A very important work, entitled "Tho Best Dressed Majul," has) appeared Jin London, in wliich the subject of clothes Is discussed with a gravity and elevation of tone that would have done credit to the great Professor Teui'elsdrockh himsPlf, founcler of the philosophy of clothes. The author asserts that "the frock still holds its own at the end of all coats," and adds impressively: "No Eugh'sh genitleinMiu, animated! by a deep attachment to our institutions, would for a moment hesitate to cast asklq the ruder coat and put upon him the elegant frock of the town, where principle is at stake." Isn't that grand? But tho really Important point which the essayist brings forward is that "real gentlemen" nooxl live suits of clothes to constitute them gentlemen! It seems that "literary men are by all odds the worst dmssed," accord- Ing to this authority, and, judged by his standard very few of them could be rated as gentlemen. any Tho cause of the fall of tho floor of the rag room in tho Fox River Paper company's mill at Applnton is found to have been the crushing of fifteen stone foundation piers, 4 by 8 foot in size, through the coment in which Iho stone was laid beinK affected by tho frost. There has been two feet of ice under tho mill all •winter. It is not thought that a single ono of the ex-treasurers has means enough to personally meet tho state's claim against him. CHAPTER IX. JUMPING AT CONCLUSIONS. Mr. Mordlo went away the next week. He carried liis sorrow with him, manfully resolved to do all he could to leave it on the summit of Mont Blanc or the Matterhorn, to sink it in the lake Maggiore or Como, or to cast it upon the flowing Rhine. He told him- iulf with such cheerfulness as he could muster that ho was deeply wounded but not killed. Before he tied the label on his portmanteau he discharged what his keen sense of honor told him was a duty. He called on the Talberts and Informed them how he had fared with Beatrice. They were very busy bottling off a quarter- cask of sherry. They found that buying their wine in wood saved them, Heaven knows how much. Now, bottling wine is a nice, dignified, yet, withal, cheerful operation, in the performance of which a duke need not bo ashamed to be seen. If 1 had the wine to bottle I would work at it ten hours a day. So when the brothers heard tli at Mr. Mordle wished particularly to see them, he was asked to step down Into the cellar, Into the cellar he went. Not a bad place on such a sultry day. He found Horace seated on a low stool with his long straight legs spread out on either side of the cask, in something of the attitude of a reversed Bacchus. He was filling the bottles with the golden fluid, whilst Herbert stood near him, and after dipping tho corks into a little basin full of wine, manipulated them with a cork squeezer and eventually drove them into their resting-place by aid of a small spade- shaped mallet. As each bottle was filled, corked, and put aside, Herbert made a chalk mark ou a board, and every fourth mark ho crossed with another so that the tally could bo easily counted. The whole performance was beautifully methodical and businesslike, reflecting great credit ou tho actors. With their native politeness, the moment Mr. Mordlo came in sight, they ceased their occupation. Florae® turned the tap and rose from the half-tilled bottle. Herbert left the cork half-drivon in. They greeted their visitor, and apologized for bringing him down to I ho lower regions. Although they wore liu'.yo coarse white aprons, fashioned somewhat like u girl's pinafore, they looked two well-bred gentlemen. "I say," said the curate nervously, "you know I'm oil' tho day after to-morrow." "Yes. We wish you a pleasant trip." "Thanks. Sure to enjoy myself. I want to toll you something before I go." They bugged him to speak. They thought it was sonic petty parish matter ou his mind. "Do you mind taking oil your aprons for a minute? Somehow my news doesn't seem to lit in with thorn." Mr. Mordle was a privileged person. He could sV and do what few others could. Moreover, his manner showed them. something of importance to communicate. "Without a word they united their pinafores, folded them up, and laid them across the sherry cask. "Shall we go up-stairs?" asked Horace. "Oh dear, no. This will do capitally. What I want to tell you is this. Last week I asked Miss Clauson to marry me. She refused. Thought you ought to know." Horace looked at Herbert; Herbert looked at Horace. They stroked their beards meditatively, but for some time neither spoke. "Well," said Mr. Mordle, "that's all." "I think, Mordle," said Horace, sadly, "you should have consulted us first." "Quite so," said Herbert. "Don't see it at all. Miss Clauson is of age. But it doesn't matter—I tell you now." The brothers shook their heads gravely. "I tell you," said Sylvanus, "because I'm going away to cure myself. When I come back I should like to be able to visit you as before. You needn't be afraid." "Miss Clauson must decide," said Horace. "Exactly so," said Herbert. So the matter was left and Mr. Mordle went away on his hard-earned holiday with a clear conscience if a heavy heart. The brothers returned to their fascinating occupation, and worked away for somo time In silence. Three dozen of sherry must have been bottled before Horace spoke. "It is time Beatrice was married." "Yes," said his brother; "but she isn't a marrying girl. She takes after us, 1 think." There was always a comfort In this reflection: esncclallv now when tho fame of Miss Olauson's good looks had spread through half Westshire. It was Indeed time that a suitable suitor made Ills appearance. The chances were that In a year or two the girl might fall Into her uncles' old-maidish ways. For tho Tal- berts were now getting into a domestic groove down which it seemed likely they would slide until tho end of their lives. They had of course seen the great world and the vanities thereof, and now they found that there was nothing like home, sweet home»especially when tho disposition of the home- lover is such that lie takes an immense interest in every detail which makes up that sweetness. With the exception of the perennial visit to tho town, they had not loft Hazlewood House for any length of time, since they settled down to rule its fortunes. They went to London this year for the last week in May and the whole of June. But Miss Clauson did not accompany them. She said outright that she hated London, and loved Oakbury and its belongings. So at Oakbury she stayed. A very curious choice on the part of a young lady who might, had she wished to do so, have spent the London season mingling in the pursuits and gayeties of what is called the upper circle. However, her decision was a certain relief to her uncles. Had she elected to accompany them to town, they would hardly have known what to do with her. A handsome niece staying with them at their hotel would be— well, if not a nuisance, a responsibility. Approving as they did in the main of her treatment of Lady Clauson they could not counsel her to go to her father's house. There wore, of course, many families they knew who would have been glad to have taken charge of a niece of theirs, but Beatrice's staying at another establishment whilst Sir Maingay was in town would clearly show tho world that there was a family feud. Nothing in the Talberts' eyes was worse than a proclaimed family feud. Hence it was that even now tln'-y spoke of Beatrice as only being on a visit to them. This delicacy on their part was a costly matter, for had they brought themselves to consider tho girl as part of the house, they might with perfect justice and propriety have associated her with themselves in the Juno -audit, so giving Horace another opportunity of showing his skill In accounts and estimates. So when Miss Clauson refused to go to London she extricated her uncles from a dilemma. She stayed at Hazlewood House and for five weeks ruled Whittakor and the other staiit servants as well as she could. The Talberts had now settled down Cor the remainder of the year. Autumn or winter would make little difference to them. They were not, as may easily be imagined, enthusiastic sportsmen. Sometimes they accepted an invitation for a day or two's shooting; but that acceptance depended more on the quality of the host than on that of the sport. Although when they did shoot, they shot fairly well—as they did most other things—it; may be taken for granted that their knowledge of the proper treatment of game was more valuable when the game was lying in the larder, than when it was Hying or running about. They could advise you how to baste a hare much better than how to shoot him. So it was that after their visit to London they looked upon themselves as pretty well fixed at Hazlewood House until the next spring. Beatrice was now just past twenty-two; It really was high time that a suitor came, and the "Tabbies," who could easily have adapted their feminine gifts to match-making, began to think over tho eligible young men in the county. Then Fate produced some one, whom, until now, she had kept in the background. But whether eligible or not is a matter we must discover by and by. Beatrice entering the library ono morning early in August found her uncles in high conclave. She saw at once that something had happened, and for the moment feared to hear that the red currant jelly recently made from their own receipt, and almost under their own supervision, had turned moldy. It was not that Miss Clauson was particularly fond of red currant jelly, her fears were simply on account of the distress such a catastrophe would cause her uncles' kindly natures. However, the matter was not so serious as she imagined. Uncle Horace handed her an open letter. "Head that, my dear, and tell us how we shall answer It." She read the following:-"DEAR MR. TALBKKT,—You and your brother have several times asked mo to pay you a visit. May I come for a week or two this vacation? lam rather knocked up by hard work, and my doctor tells mo I had better spend some time in a quiet place in the country. So I remembered your kind invitation, and if quite convenient to you, would come straight from Oxford to your house. Of course, although rather overworked, I am not an invalid or I should not think of trespassing on you. Yours sincerely. FKANK CAimuTinsns." "Who is Frank Carruthers?" asked Beatrice. "Some relation to us, is he not?" "Ills mother was my father's half-sister." "What relation does that make him to me?" Herbert stroked his beard and grappled with the problem. "He must be your half- first cousin once removed," he said at last. "Exactly so," said Horace. This point being settled, Miss Clauson requested further information about Mr. Car- rutliers. Thereupon Horace went into family history, wliich it will perhaps be better for us to look up ou our own account. On such occasions Horace was apt to become rather prosy. Old Talbert's half-sister, who was some years younger than himself, married, just before tho successful coup came off, u man named Carruthers. It was no great match, and if Mr. Carruthers found domestic bliss it was well that lie made his matrimonial arrangements before the "boom" in oil, tobacco, corn or whatever it was, sent Mr. Talbert to Hazlewood House and county society. Had he deferred it till then the chances, sure that Mr. Talbert would have insisted 941 Sister jjptog bejttejj for Cawu* 1 —- ;i --^ a moderate fixed income, as manager of some works in tlie north. Somehow, after her marriage liis half-sister Slipped away from Mr. Talbert's life. A3 whole sisters and brothers so often do the same this fact is not astonishing. Mrs. Carruthers had several children—but one after another they died off. She wrote to her half- brother announcing the birth or the death of each. He answered her letters In a congratulatory or consolatory way as tho occasion required. Tills was about all the correspondence which passed between them. When Horace and Herbert were lanky boys in Eton jackets and round collars, Frank- Carruthers was born, and actually lived long enough to give promise of growing up. Indeed, his father before he died saw his only surviving child a strapping young fellow of seventeen. Mr. Carruthers left his widow an annuity for life and a few hundreds In ready money. She lived well within her income and expended her capital in finishing her son's education. She may have had some of old Talbert's views of things in general, although lacking his means of carrying them out. Anyway, she sent her boy to Oxford. There, for three or four .terms, he behaved disgracefully. He got into scrapes, difficulties, and debt. So far, indeed, Into the last that his mother, for the first and only time in her life, applied to Mr. Talbert for assistance. This was given readily, and tho young man was once more set oil' straight. Then, suddenly Mrs. Carruthers died. Out of her annuity she had saved enough each year to pay a premium of assurance, and Frank, then just twenty-one, found that her foresight and love put him In possession of somo seventeen hundred pounds. Whatever Ills faults might have been, ho was passionately attached to his mother. Her death seemed to make a changed man of him. Ho Immediately paid back Mr. Talbert's loan—better still, ho went to work like a horse-an intellectual horse, of course. The consequence was that lie became one of the most shining lights of his year and was, in duo time, rewarded by a fellowship. This was lucky; for after having repaid Mr. Talbert ho had only enough money left to carry him to the end of his Oxford course. Eventually ho settled down to try and make his living, or augment the emoluments of his fellowship, as an Oxford "coach." At that particular time tho supply of coaches was beyond the demand, so for some years, in spite of his brilliant reputation.passeiigers —or pupils—were few. But he stuck to the business, and latterly had boon given as much, even more, than ho could manage. Hence the overwork. All tills uncle Horace told Beatrice in his own fashion—all except the wild-oat episode. That was past and gone; Frank was now a successful man, so his youthful sins might be forgotten. Beatrice until now knew nothing about her fractional cousin. An intermittent and lan- pulBhina correspondence had existed between her mother and Mrs.Carrutb.ers,but upon the death of liis first wife Sir Maingay had not the least interest in keeping up any form of relationship with Mrs. Carruthers. It is doubtful whether he even knew of her existence. Tho Talberts, who were far too proud to disown any of their kin, had met tho young man several times and had liked what they had seen of him. They had asked him to Oakbury, and after excusing himself once or twice he was now coming there. "Is he a clergyman?" asked Beatrice. "Ho must be, I suppose." "No." said Herbert. "He never took orders. The fellowship he holds did not make that indispensable." "They ought all to be like that," said Beatrice. "Men oughtn't to bo forced or bribed to enter tho church. Besides," continued she, "they ought not to make a man give up his fellowship when he marries. Just as lie wants more money they take it from him. Ho must either give up his wife or his income." Miss Clausou was growing quite a philosopher on the subject of marriage. She spoke about it as l£ it were an impossibility that she herself would ever bo interested'in tho matter. "My dear," said uncle Horace, gallantly, "I don'.t think a man would consider two hundred a year a great sacrifice If you were in tlie question." She smiled faintly at the compliment. "Still the system must be bad," she said. "It might lead to all sorts of unhappinoss. A man might keep his marriage a dead secret —might not marry at all. All sorts of misery might result." "You may be sure," said Herbert, "what is-is best." "Exactly so," said Horace. "I am sure it is bad," she said, decisively. Miss Clauson must have been in advance of her day, the authorities now having in a great measure adopted her views and changed the system. "Shall we write and toll him to come?" asked Horace. "It won't bo any annoyance to you?" "Why should it be—what difference will it make? Ask him by all means," Then, hearing the patter of little feet outside, she left her uncles to answer their letters, and in a iew minutes was out in the garden romping with the child. Horace wrote a beautifully worded letter to Frank Carruthers expressing the pleasure he and his brother felt at hearing of the promised visit. He begged him to fix hia own day for coining, and to stay as long as ho conveniently could. Tho letter was handed to Herbert for perusal and approval. Herbert read it, and after nodding his head continued to hold the letter in his hand, whilst a kind of puzzled, thoughtful look spread over his face. Strange to say Horace also fell into a reverie. For somo ten minutes the two brothers sat facing one another, stroking their beards. If that vulgar wretch from whoso rank mind that feline nickname first sprung could have seen them he would, I am afraid, have been quite satisfied that he had chosen an appropriate designation, when he dubbed them the Tabbies. Herbert and Horace know without speaking that their thoughts were running in parallel lines. They often thought of tlie same thing without a previous word on the subject. The similarity of their natures, no doubt, accounted for this. "Herbert," said Horace at last, "you are thinking of what Beatrice said?" "Yes, I am." "So am I. It seemed a revelation, but we oughtn't to jump at conclusions." "No," said Herbert, "but the fact remains. Somo four years ago he had nothing but his fellowship to live upon." "You are right, nothing. Beatrice spoke justly. She may by chance have struck the mark." "I am afraid so. Still, wo must not be hasty. Yet, whoever sent the child, must have fancied it had somo claim ou us." "It is ridiculous to suppose that an entire stranger would have done such a thing." "Quite so," said Herbert. "He may have been much tempted; at that time have been driven to his wits' end. It is ft sad affair—let us try and piece it together." TUen, like a couple of old women, they began to construqt their new theory. ' S'We \vill sa; married four tt; so that lie might hold his fellowship." iin *• ... i I.:« tf. A!! «timti/\6f Mnti ** <!' Of course tliis is all supposition," said Horace. The word dishonorable in connection with one of his own kin grated on his Gill* "Exactly so," said Herbert. "I should suspect that the wife died—perhaps recently, perhaps shortly after the birth of the child." "The latter I should think. Frank makes a large Income now, and could afford to give np two hundred a year." "Yes," said Herbert, "the wife died after the birth of the boy. The older the child got the more trouble he found it to conceal its identity. Thereupon he sends it to us, trusting we may keep It." "And now," capped Herbert, "after declining former invitations, he comes to us himself. The further we pursue the matter the clearer it becomes." They were quite in a state of mild excitement. That they could draw logical infer- onccR we have seen by the affair of Ann Jenkins' stockings. The brothers had both been distressed that all their speculations as to little Harry's origin had fallen to the ground ' for want of proper support. Now, at last, was a theory which, If it reflected dishonor 011 a connection of theirs, was at least tenable. It was improbable, but the whole affair was so monstrous that it needed an improbability to account for it. They absolutely argued themselves Into believing they had found the truth. "Dldcot is the junction for Oxford," continued Herbert, after a pause. "Besides," said Horace, "we cannot forget that his conduct once was not what it should have been." That's the worst of going wrong. No amount of straight running will make people cease to look at times askance. The work of reformation is child's play to that of making yonr friends believe you have reformed. Therefore Horace Talbert's remark was a clincher. Herbert toyed with the open letter. "Shall we send this?" ho asked. They fell to stroking their beards once moii!, and continued the operation until the . natural kindliness of their hearts reasserted itself. "After all," said Herbert, "it is all purely conjectural." "Completely so." "He had better come then." "1 think so. Besides, it will give us an opportunity of seeing him with the child— surely UK! instincts of paternity must show themselves." "They are supposed to be very strong." But as neither of them knew anything about paternity, these remarks were made In a doubtful tone, and wore subject to correction. The polite letter was sent, and a week aft* er the ending of the Trinity Turin the young Oxford tutor packed up his things, and started for Oakbury. Aa there is no occasion to make superfluous mysteries, it may at once be said that Frank Carruthcrs knew no more of the existence of tin 1 child whom his amiable uncles had argued themselves into believing to be in somo way his properly, than lie knew of —for llui Billet, or a simile—say the presenco at Ha/lcwood House of a gray-eyed girl, whose- beauty would satisfy every demand of his rather fastidious, I' (To be continued.) Harper's. To write a letter of congratulation on a happy event hi t(uo hls- tory of a friend, is a comparatively easy task. Words of cheer and felicitation fall trippingly from the pen. as from tlie tongue. The letter of condolence requires more care, more delicacy, a greater comprehension, a fuller recognition of the friend's elm meter and environment. Many people hesitate to write their thought of sympathy to one who Is suffering under the lirst sxir- prise and bewildering shock of a deep bereavcmut. The Impulse is strong to put forth a hand in the dark and give tho warm clnsp which means "I am. sorry," "I grieve in your grief," "I would help you if I could," but quick upon its heels tread the suggestions of caution. "I do not know her well enough to intrude," whispers an instinctive refinement of pity. "My rude thrusting in of myself would only tear open the wound afresh." "Should I attempt to speak words of consolation they would sound like platitudes, appear conventional or perfunctory." The arguments are often so reasonable in their appeal to common sense that the original tender impulse is resolutely crushed back; one prays for one's friend, but does not directly address hter. In .most cases the silence Is a mistake. Occasionaly it is better than speech, wo grant, particularly when those of whom we think are mere acquaintances, not evien hi the outer circle as yet of friendship, or when the sufferers are specially shy of manner and reticent of nature. Usually, however, the letter of condolence, if short,- earnest and sincere, is an olive branch of promise borne as by a veiy messenger dove of peace over the wild, whirling waste of snow. The simpler it is, the surer its 'errand of mercy. The sooner it is sent, the more speedily its tender balm is laid on the aching heart. On the whole it Is always very nearly safe to trust to tlMi early friendly impulse, and to disregard the later detaining hand of caution. 'TIS JUDGE SEAMAN NOW. His Commission Arrives and He Takes the Oath of Office. . W>J>V.I . Milwaukee, Wis., April 13.-W. H. Seaman, of Sheboygau, is now United States judge for the eastern district of Wisconsin. His commission, arrived yesterday and he took the oath of office this morning. The oath was administered by Edward Kurtz, clerk of the United States courts, in the presence of Judge Jenkins and others. Judge Seaman will probably hold court for the first time 011 the first Monday in May He may sit to hear motions before that day if any need attention. The judge will remain in Sheboygan for tho present, but will probably move to this city after a time. Judge Seaman's commission was properly signed, showing that President Cleveland has now got his hand in. When Judge Jenkins' commission was made out the president signed it in the wrong place, and lite sisnuturo had tQ I he erased.. BO has signed several com- 1 ~ tape then, ajid

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