The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on June 7, 1893 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, June 7, 1893
Page 3
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THE UPPER BES M>UNES. ALGONA. IOWA. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7,1893. S3EE1NU BY ELECTRICITY. A Mordem Marvel of the Mysterious Fluid. , to write the telephone The mention ot electricity brought au new pixbdoUltiL* for future discovery, some of them so amazing as to almost pus* the bounds of credibility. IH-ofessor Bell sain: -Morse taught the world years ago at a distance by electricity,, enables us to talk at ( a distances by electricity J and now. scientists are agreed Hint there is no theoretical reason why the well-known principles of light should not be applied hi the same way that the principles of sound have been applied in the tele- thus allow us to sec at a electricity, It is some ten phine, and distance by Ul»Ul*"-v LJJ ~— •• _ ... years since the scientific papers of tlie world were greatly exorcised over a report that I bad-mod at the Smithsonian Institution a sealed contain a method of doing thing; that is, transmit the v.siou of persons and things from ono point on the earth to another. As a .-uMtter ol fact there Is no truth in the repor , but it resulted in stirring up'a dozen scientific men of eminence to come out able—d]iu-K , fcreeu. Habits are made this season usually In but two pieces- jacket ana f^rt—equestrienne tights having to a gnai.t extent replaced the riding trousers once so generally worn. The waist is what Is Known as tlie English cut; a rouud, short basque with coat bacii—uoit postilion—ami with, plain jacket or cutaway irout. Double breasteu <.uects are used unite as often as singu. Linings are of silk, satin serge, or more commonly of farmers satin or dress lining. The buttons are always specially manufactured from the cloth ui which, the habit is made, with horn or leather backs and edges. A tiny pociiet lor the hunting watch and handkerchief is found on the lower left tand side of the front of tlie basque. Adjustable dickies, and cull's which but1"ii to the jacket with tiny flat pearl Lmitous are sometimes used They are made of some contrasting color, hunting pink-a rich, light red- being thel favorite shade. Skirts are made nincii shorter of late than in for mcr yetnv, and this season's styles show, no change in tlie sensible altora tlou. For a skirt to be the correc length, it shuld just escape the gromu when the wearer is standing, or should reach the Up of the boot on tho outer inl-l •utter with statetments to the effect that thej too had discovered various methods of seeing by electricity. That shows what I know to be the case, that men are working at this Rival problem in many laboratories, and I ilnnly believe It will be solved one day. "Of course, while tlie principle of • seeing by electricity at a precisely that applied in the owing Blacktown, an emporium of articles of fr-ml- nine need lnti> which Mordlo could not venture to accompany her. She thanked him lor ills services, and he knew that those thanks were a dismissal. He strode back to Oakbury looking very thoughtful; indeed it was not until he was well into his own parish that he remembered the necessity of rcsum- tr,,r his tisual cheerful air." "It mast have limb when* he is hi the saddle. ^ A com fortablc summer' habit serge riding skirt and with a s.llk shirt-waist. consists blazer of a worn vet it will be very much more difficult to construct such an nnpraU* to tho immensely greater rapidity with which tho vibrations of light take place when compared with tho vibrations of sound It is merely a question, how- em-, oi finding a diaphragm waicli will be sufficiently sensitive to receive these vibrations and pro-liu* tho corresponding electrical vihrattons.-McClures Magazine for SAUCY SONG. The Bobolink's Notes Translated English. into But none V of our native birds has made for himself a greater name than the bobolink, the mad harlequin of ..he meadows. Of course the children were the first to recognize his genius and Introduce him to society. But he has since graduated from the nursery rhyme, and, like the chickadee, is now making his way in the literary worlcl If mere Ls one of these birds in oui shall not have long o seeing and hearing meadows we wait before tii A single song, or a note of his unparalleled single glimpse of Ins odd black-and-white livery, is sufficient to identify him a mile off, after once hav- m^.mado Ins acquaintance. See A CUIUOUS WEDDING CUSTOM. Tho MamlingoeM, who inhabit a tract of country in Africa, are strict Moham- medans in religion; but, curiously enough, they still retain many of the superstitions of the negro races from Which they sprung. Consequently their marriage ceremony is a mixture of the two. and although it is performed by a marabout or holy man in the mosque, it contains one very ridiculous clement. Next hi importance to the marabout is the bridegroom's sister, and when the marriage ceremony reaches the point where the visible bond, usually typified in civilization by the ring, this sister steps forward, and in place of tho ring presents the lady with a pair of trousers, which, arc iinniGKliately donned. The 1 ceremony is concluded by a very mournful sons, sung by tho companions of the bride who then conduct her again to the home of her parents, as, owing to tho extreme probability of one or tho other retracting at any moment by reason of an unfavorable omen, no house is built until the ceremony Is completed. Polygamy is the rule, but each) wife has her own house to keep her from quarreling with the other wives. They arc the most tyrannical wives in Africa, and, hating each other, band together against their, husband and rule him with a rod of iron.— Ladies' Homo Journal. him 1.U.U • lliuvnj *»j« . j. yonder, skimming over the mleadow with down-curved, vibratory wings, his plum•\«e all lot black, except the white marks on his back, and the creamy patch on his niii.>i'. Hark to his bubbling, 1i"gling, inexpressible music as he curvets and flutters in the all-. Some of tho older writers on birds of New England say that the boys there translate ttiu song into ''Bobolink, bob:-link, Tom Denny, Tom Denny, como pav me the sixpence you've owed im> n.ere than a year and a half ago. I paid you, I paid you. You didn't. I did You didn't, you lie, you cheat, you cheat, you cheat!" Then Nuttall, man of bird-songs adds: puerile this odd ptaisc may appear, is quite amusing to THE LOST TAIL. A Fact Painfully Suggestive Ape Origin.. of Our in the June tii* "However it find how near it opproache'sto the time and expression of the notes when pronounced m a hurried manner." It is indeed amusing, and, more than that, it is the only nuetbod of graphic description that is. available, for musical notes and verbal definitions are equally powerless to reproduce tills 1 remarkable serenade.— Emotet E. Scribner. SENTIMENT FROZEN BY VIGOROUS WORDS. "What a lovely boy'." she exclaimed, bending an enrap hired gaze upon a pretty 5-year-old playing on the green turf of Riverside. Tho whole party paused and pettou him, and a fat little pampered noodle nosed the youngster jealously. And the lad with [his golden curls, blue eyes and aristocratic features, was certainly a pretty sight. He was dressed in a velvet Eaton Jacket and cocked hat with an ostrich feather in it, and his found mamma, sitting on the nearest bench, drank in the glances of admiration and words of praise as sweetest incense of her soul. "Oh, you dear child," cried another of the ladies. "Come away, Fldo—he won't bite you dear." Still the lad looked on the pudgy dog doubtfully. "What would you do if you had a nice, little dog like that" inquired the lady at the end of the ribbon. "I—I'd knock the everlasting stuffing out of him," promptly responded the little chap. Whereat 'his fond mamma turned crimson. "Come on, Kldo." said the' owner of tho dog, stUHy. But the rest of the party looked as if in hearty approval of this sentiment. Especially the solemn young man who was witto them.— Pltt'sburg Dispatch. When 0110 passes from tho head to tho other extremity of the human body one comes upon a somewhat unexpected but very pronounced characteristic—the relic of the tail, and not only of the tail, but of muscles wagging it. Everyone who first sees a human skeleton Is amazed at, this discovery. At the end of the vertebral column, curling faintly outward in suggestive fashion, are three four, and occasionally five vertebrae forming the coccyx, a true rudimentary tail. In the adult this is always concealed beneath the skin, but in the embryo, both in man and ape, at an early stage it is much longer than the limbs. What is decisive as to its true nature, however, is that even in the embryo of man the muscles for wagging it are still found. In the grown-up human being these muscles are represented by bands of fibrous tissue, but cases are known where the actual muscles persist through life. That a distinct external tail should not be still found in man ma|y seem disappointing to the evolutionist. But the want of a tail argues more for the theory of evolution than its presence would have done. It would have been contrary to the theory of descent had ho possessed a longer tail. For all the anthropoids most allied to man have long since also parted with theiifs.—Professor Henry Drummond, in McClure's Magazine for June. He will never have him," said Beatrice, slowly "Listen to me. There is nj chance of ydur obtaining that boy. His mother knows in whose hands he is. If your claim is pressed t proof as to whose the child really is will be forthcoming. The production will cause pain and grief, but that will be borne, if needful. See here"—she drew from her pocket the label which had been cut oft the child's cape—"the person who has a right to that child must produce the half of the card which fits this. When wanted It can be produced." „ "I know nothing about cards and proofs, said tlie woman, whose understanding could not, perhaps, grasp the Ingenuity of the dev ice. "All I know is this, miss; my husband swears it is our boy, and I believe him, poor man. Sore enough he has grieved for two .-ours—never been the same man since.' "You do not believe him," said Beatrice, in tho same deliberate way, "but for tlie sake of setting his mind at rest, you humor his delusion, and are willing to rob another woman. You seem to be a kind woman, yet you are ready to work irretrievable harm to another." "1 mean no harm to any one, miss. 11 « shouldn't be my child, the mother can't be of much account who could desert a pretty little dear like that. But there, I've listened ton long.nnd perhaps said more than I ought. If you like to see my husband^ I'll send lor ilni." Mrs. Rawlings rose as If to terminate tile audience. Beatrice also rose and faced her. Shu threw up her veil, and for the flrst time during the interview showed her face to her companion. No," she said with strange vehemence; "I have more, much more, to say to you. I Aiok me in the face, and feel sure that I am -peaking the truth. What If I tell you that 1 know the mother of this child-know why it was sent to Hazlewood House—know that if forced to do so the mother will claim It publicly—will face whatever the shame, i-nlhcr than yield it to another. Will these tilings have weight with you. and. make you persuade your husband to let the matter rest?" Her impassioned manner had its effect upon hnr listener. Mrs. Rawlings fidgeted *;X«M!, ana her round eyes, which hitherto uad rested wonderlngly on Beatrice's face, were cast down. "It's no use," she muttered, shaking her head. "Not a bit of use. He has set his h"art on the boy. He'll say it's only a trick." "Then I have yet more to say. Look at me again, and listen. Put yourself in my place, and realize what you compel me to do. I tell yon tlie child is mine—it is mine. Do you understand?" Mrs. Rawlings shook her head feebly. "It is mine," repeated Beatrice. "I am Its mother. Do I speak clearly enough? That boy is my son. I bore him in trouble and in secrecy. "Now will you or your husband dare to lay claim to him—dare to swear it belong? to you? Answer me!" "Oh, dear! Oh, dear, dearl" ejaculated .Mrs: Rawlings. Beatrice's face was pale as death. She breathed quickly as one in pain. Now that her hand was forced, now that the guarded secret of her life was wrested from U:T, she seemed to speak like one who hav- '.n;5 told the worst cares little what follows. "Save myself and one other no one knows of its birth. I loved it and longed to have it ever with me. But for years I scarcely dared to see it. Then came a chance. I schemed so that it might come to me and be always with me, and yet no one need know It was my very own. I injured no one by so doing. I had my child and could love it and care for it. I was all but happy. And now for what can bo of no benefit to will force me to tell my tale to the world or part with my child. Yet you are a woman and must have a woman's heart!" She looked at Mrs. Rawlings and saw that tears were in her eyes. "1 believe you are kind,' continued Beatrice in a softer voice. "You have forced me to toll you all. But I believe you will keep my secret and help me to keep it." She did or at l-ist awoke t\ dormant sensatinn. It was more than foiu years since his h:\uds had touched a coin of the realm. Think of that and realize what penal servitude means! The first use he made of his liberty and money was characteristic, and I fear may awaken indulgent sympathy in the minds of the majority of men- (not woman-) kind. He ing his usual cheerful been charitable," he muttered. "But why the secrecy? Why the 'Cat and Compasses? Saturday came. All that morning, the busiest of the week, Horace and Herbert were fidgety and uncomfortable. Long before the hour fixed by Messrs. Blackett & Wiggens for the appearance of their client s carriage, the brothers were glancing down tho drive. Miss Clauson, however, appeared calm and at her ease. Her woman's instinct told her that all danger from the claimants was at au 2nd. About two o'clock Horace turned to her. "My dear," ho said, "has Mrs. Miller made any preparation for the child s 6 "None whatever. He will not be sent for. It was but an idle threat." Horace and Herbert exchanged glances. They knew it was no idle threat, but they little knew how tho fulfilment had been averted. , , Three o'clock came—four—five o clock; but no carriage, no Rawlings, no Blackett, no Wiggens. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday passed without any sign or manifestation of hostility. The Talberts were then bound to confess that their niece had judged aright. "Bfiat.vlno unnoara tn ho rnmarlrphlv sighted," said Horace. "Remarkably so," answered Herbert. But had Sylvanus Mordle, who spent tho evening with them, committed a breach o faith and mentioned his excursion with Miss Clauson, the brothers might have suspected they had credited their niece with a quality to which she had no title. went into a tobacconist's and bought a nine- penny cigar. He lit it, sat down upon achaii in the shop and for some minutes smoked in blissful contented silence. Tlie shopkeeper eyed his customer narrowly. His general appearance, especially the look of his hands did not seem compatible with what the tradesman called "a nlnepenny smoke gent. Hervey caught tho man's eyes fixed on his hands. Ho himself glanced at them with a look of disgust and a muttered curse. Year of turf-carrying and digging and delving fo Portland stone play havoc with a gentle man's hands. Hervey's nails were broken blunted and stunted; his fingers were thick ened and hardened. Altogether his hand were such as a person solicitous as to the refinement of Ills personal appearance would prefer to keep In his pockets. There were other actions which showed the tlckctof-leave man to be possessed of a fastidious nature. The first enthralling solemnity of the refound enjoyment of good tobacco having passed off, he left the shop and went in search of a ready-made clothing establishment. Here he bought a shirt and collar, a pair of shining boots, a hat, gloves, and a cheap suit which for a few days would hang together and present an appearance almost fashionable. He asked permission to change his apparel on tho promises. Then having had a brown paper parcel made ol the suit presented to him by a generous government, ho went his way, no doubt much ••»- lleved by tho amelioration of his extc: condition. After a few more purchases needed by a AMERICO-JAPxVIs T ESE POETESS. Mrs. Mae St. John Bramhall Visits the Fair in Jinrickshaw. DRESSING KO1I THE RIDE. The material used in tho making of women's riding habits are broad and covert cloths, and especially for summer wear, lightweight serges, writes Frances F. Lanlgan in an article on "Dressing for tho Ride," in the Ladies' Hmuo Journal. Tho colors a,re black, bj\\e, gray, b^own. in, dark* <vnA tan Among the pretty poetesses now at Chicago is Mrs. Mae St. John Bramhall, • ,f El Faso, Tex, Mrs. Bramhall was born in New York state, but, liaviug traveled around the world so much, she has become cosmopolitan in her habits and tastes. She has written several books, the most successful of which aro Japanese Jingles, now in its second edition and Around the World at Leisure Letters. Like everyone else who has visited Japan, Mrs. Bramhall fell in love with that eastern country. The prettiest of her Jingles is the one which tells of her regret on leaving Japan. Like Sir Edwin Arnold, her muse always selects a Japanese theme and her ideas give evidence of life in a bungaloo and spins in a jinrickshaw. Before going home tho natives of the Japanese village, with whom Mrs. Bramhall can converse freely in their native tongue, purpose taking her around the Fair grounds in her favorite little Japanese carriage and treating her to a spread of tea and rolls and rice afterwards, to show how honored a guest she is among them. The Japanese appreciate highly the honor of having un American poetess who writes to them and for them. And hi the matter of entertaining her, they gpjng to b.e v ft yyh,l.t £el$|ft ttf , not mean to sue, nevertheless there was an Imploring tone in her voice. Mrs. Rawlings clasped her plump hands together; the tears streamed down her cheeks. In spite of years fif practice in plaiting up those mysterious v.-Hto integuments whose fanciful shapes .m shops where pork is sold, the worthy woman was still humane at l.earu "Oh my poor young lady! My poor young lady!" she cried. "You so young, so proud- looking, so beautiful! To be led astray 1 Oh dear! oh dear 1 What villains men are, both hicrhandlow!" Miss Clauson flushed to the roots of her hair. She seemed about to speak, but checked herself. "You are satisfied now?" she asked after a pause. "Oil yes, miss, Oh, I am so sorry for you. You were right to trust me. Not a word shall pass my lips." "But your husband?" "Oh dearl oh dearl I must do the best I can. I must tell him it is not ours. He will bn so unhappy. He's a good man and a kind husband, but rather excitable. I assure you, miss, he was fully convinced thatsweet little boy was Ills. I own 1 wasn't, but I humored him seeing tlie thought made him so happy. Any way I would have loved the boy like my own. Now I promise you there shall be no more trouble. But my poor man, he will bo disappointed." "Will any sum of money " began Beatrice rather timidly. "Oh no, miss. Although Rawlings has neglected business dreadfully for the last Iwo years, and his brother is grumbling, we are fairly well-to-do people with a tidy bit saved. Oh no, my man is single-eyed. He only wanted the boy." "llow was your child lost?" asked Beatrice. Mrs. Rawlings looked rather confused. "I can't help believing, Miss, that the poor little fellow was drowned and never found. But Rawlings, he won't have it so. Ho says h« was stolen and we shall find him some day." After this Miss Clauson thanked her hostess with grave dignity. Then she dropped '.iei veil and attended by Mrs. Rawlings went •>:u;k to the cab and Sylvanus. She had .'ained her end, but at a price only known to uTself. What it had cost her to reveal the <?oret of her life to that strange woman can warci-ly be over-estimated. Such was her 'wling of degradation that she almost wish- id that her uncles had been In tlie room vheu yesterday she went with the child in lerhandto tell them what she had to-day .old Mrs. Rawlings. "And after all," she uurmnred with a bitter smile on her face, 'it is but staving off the crash which must •ome sooner or later." Here she sighed in- i-olunlarUy. Mordle's quick ear caught the sound. "Nothing unpleasant happened, J hope?" lie asked. "My business was not of the pleasantest nature, but J accomplished |t successfuly," replied peatrlco. tti jpjmtogi - 1 "" '* f i -st^j&L,6 -*' rt. t. CHAPTER XVIII. TOT! SWKBTS OF UBERTY. "Oh Liberty 1 thou goddess heavenly bright! Profuse of bliss and pregnant with delight." Every bard has sung the joys of liberty; every writer has said his say upon her glories. Patriots have died for her, and statesmen—modem ones especially—have made her a convenient stalking horse. The subject being such a stock one, and apt quotations so plentiful, there is no need to dilate upon the frame of mind In which Mrs. Miller's acquaintance, Mr. Maurice Hervey, late No. 10SO, found himself when Portland prison at length discontinued its ungrudging and machine-like hospitality and restored him to tho outer world, a free man save for the formality of once a month reporting himself to tho police, and that general suspicious surveillance which is so irksome to tho usually modest and retiring nature of a ticket- of-leovo man. , , The "goddess heavenly bright" showed her face, the flrst time for some years, to Maurice Hervey on the very day when Miss Clauson and Sylvanus Mordle went to Blacktown. Mrs. Miller who had manifested so keen an interest in tho felon's enlargement remained in complete ignorance of the happy event. This was due to no omission on her part. She had written twice to tho. governor of Portland, begging that tho date of the convict's release might be made known to her. The letters were dated not from Oakbury but from some place in London. The first letter was duly acknowledged, and the information vouchsafed that the date could not be exactly fixed. To the second letter she received no reply. Tho reason for such apparent discourtesy was this:— The day of the man's emancipation was drawing very near, so he was told that his friend had written, and he was asked if he wished to be sent to London to meet her? He cast down his eyes and in a respectful way stated that he was sorry to say that he attributed his present shameful position to certain evil counsel which the writer had "•iven him, and which he had followe'd. He did wish to bo sent to London, but would rather avoid this woman than seek her. After this avowal Mrs. Miller's letter reinainec unanswered. He was an educated villain who had beea sentenced to five years penal servitude for uttering forged bills. Like most such men, who are sent into seclusion for the good ol the community, Maurice Hervey was able to realize, without such severe treatment as was needed to convince the Apostle Paul that kicking against pricks Is foolishness. He had been ordered to pay society a certain debt. Misbehavior meant that the debt would be exacted to the uttermost farthing; whereas good conduct would in time lighten the obligation and induce his creditor to accept a handsome composition. So ho did to tho best of his ability such work as was allotted to him. He was too clever to attempt the elbow-worn trick of interesting the chaplain by a pretended conversion. Ho sagely reflected that chaplains must by this time have grown wide-awake. But he wore a contented inoffensive look, spoke civilly to his gaolers, complained of nothing and gave no trouble. It was only in the seclusion of his circumscribed cell of corrugated iron that No. 1060 scowlcd.gratod his teeth and clenched his hands. It was only there that while his heart craved for personal freedom, his lips noiselessly framed bitter curses and vows of vengeance. So it is that if upon his return to freedom Mr. Hervey had given his experiences of penal servitude to the daily papers, his description of the punishment of broad and water diet, dark cells, and that humiliating exercise with the crank, known as "grinding the air," would have had no first-hand value. Before leaving Portland he was told that the "Discharged Prisoners' Aid Society" would doubtless do something for him. He expressed his gratitude for tlie information, but added that unless from disuse his right hand had lost Its cunning, he could earn an honest—he emphasized tho word—livelihood without difficulty. He had been an artist, and could again pursue that craft under a new name. During his detention he had given his janitors proof of his graphic abilities, by the graving of sundry slates with complicated and not inartistic designs. These works of art are still shown to visitors to the prison as curiosities.' So, practically a free man, Maurice Hervey stood in tho streets of London at four o'clock on tho second day of tho new year. There was little about him to attract attention. By a merciful and sensible dispensation, during the three months prior to his emancipation, a convict's hair is left to nature, so that in these days of military crops, Mr. Hervoy's head, which no longer resembled a Fitzroy storm-drum, was not a signal of danger. Tho suit of clothes which replaced the durable prison dress was rough and ill-fitting, but not such as to create remark. In London that night there must have been hundreds of thousands of respectable men who looked neither better uor worse than Maurice Hervey. Free at last! Free to turn where he liked, and, within tho limits of the law, do as he liked; in splendid health; in the prime jrf manhood. Free to redeem or cance} th —{>y honest work, or by dls&opsty |hj aM lower hi |he fu.ture, gentleman for his toilet, ho found his money liad dwindled down to very little. He had however enough left to buy a shiny black bag Into this ho tumbled his parcels, and hailing a hansom paid his last shilling to to. conveyed to tho door of a well-known hotel A luxurious dog this convict I He engaged a bedroom. Ho ordered a am ner of which even Horace and Herbert migh have approved. Ho rang for hot water, am spent half an hour soaking his hardened and disfigured hands. Ho scowled as ho reallzct the painful fact that hundreds of gallons o hot water and months of time must bo ex ponded before these badly-used members in any way resumed their original appearance Then, without a shilling in his pocket, li went to his dinner, with which ho drank bottle of champagne. It is clear that Mi Hervey, late 1080, had liberal views as to th treatment due to himself. Ho had, moreove a lot of leeway to make up. Ho spent tho evening smoking the hotel cigars, and drinking the hotel whisky and water. Pleasant as these occupations were, ho retired to rest early. Whilst he had been soaking ills hands, ho had cast longing eyes upon the beauties of tho white-covered bed. and had mentally contrasted its soft chaims with tho asperities of the strip of sacking which had for so long been his resting-place. Sweet, truly sweet, are the uses of adversity when they teach a man to enjoy tho simple comforts of life as Maurice Hervey that night enjoyed his bed. Ho revelled In the clean white sheets, ho nestled on the soft mattress and yet softer pillows. The profusion of blankets filled his soul with a rapturous warmth. And as ho fully realized the contrast between tlie innocent luxury he was enjoying and the discomforts of an iron cell eight feet by four, he vowed a very proper vow, that no ill-advised conduct of his own should force him to renew his acquaintance with prison fare and discipline. The love of luxury has saved many a man from going "wrontr. "Besides," lie murmured, as he sank off to sleep, "there is no need for foolery of tha kind. I am master of the situation, I can eat, drink, and be merry for the rest of raj life " There aro many men who would slee; the sounder had they such a thought to rock th?m, "in the morning, after breakfast, It occurred to Hervey that a moneyless man staying at au hotel is hi rather a precarious position. Pleasant as was his newly-found liberty, there was work to be done before he could with a clear conscience enjoy It. So ho sallied forth, trudged through a number of given it witnom, consideration, without pnc4 And now, so fur as tin was concerned, thi only memory of the past which linked theni together was but of a certain thing left In hel charge. ' He saw the flush, saw the hesitation, ana, of course, attributed both to the wrong m» tlve. His brow grew black. "ByG—drhl cried; "if It Is not forthcoming—-" She burst Into tears. "Walt," she saW quitting the room abruptly, and leaving he$ visitor in dire suspense. In a few minute! she returned and handed him a small sealed packet. "There it is—just as you gave It to me thai night," she said. "Many a time when I'VI been hard pressed and did not know when to turn to for a shilling I tried to persuade my* self that you meant me to use it in caseoi need. But I knew you too well, Maurice—1 know you too well 1" Hervey paid no heed to her last words, th« scorn conveyed by which should have brought tho blood to the cheek of any man of decent feelings. He tore the parcel open. It eon< talncd a gold watch and chain, two valuabU diamond rlngs,and about a hundred and flftj sovereigns. Ho placed the watch In his fob, then tried to draw the rings on his fingers, Neither would pass over his enlarged knuckles, so wltli a curse ho shovelled them along with the gold Into his pocket. Tho woman watched him sadly. "Thank you, my near," he said airily. "1 knew I could trust you. By the by, perhapi you're hard up. Have some—I can get plett ;y more." Ho held out some gold to her. "Not a farthing. Your gold would bum me." "Will you give me a kiss for the sake ol old times? Fancy 1 It is more than four yean since my lips have touched a woman's." She made an emphatic gesture - dissent "It would be well for some women," sh« said, "if your lips had never touched theirs." He laughed an unpleasant laugh. "Well, good-byo then, If wo are not to rake up old flrcs. Remember mo to your respectable husband. Keep yourself unspotted from tha world, and train up your children lathe way they should go. Farewell." He swung out of the house whistling i merry tune in vogue when his Incarceration began. "Now," ho said, "that 1 have money enough to last a long time, I can make my own terms. Grim want won't push me into a corner. Now, you jade, I'll make you bond your proud knees I" Ho grated his strong teeth an stamped his foot—tho latter so violently and viciously that a timid old gentleman who was close-by him started off at an accelerated pace in tha direction of a distant policeman. Horvey hung about London fora few days. ho patronized i . _ enjoyed himself. Ho was not al'.pother idle, part of his time being taken up in ma',;lug a series of Inquiries which it tcok i>nmu trouble to get answered. At last lui learned what ho wanted to know. "So near I" he muttered. "I feared I should have to l.iol: out cf. England." Forthwith ho pal I his hotr-1 bill, and carrying with him the rrs'ii'ctof '.lie pro prietor, left the house. Kvi-nlng 1'numl him n comfortable quarters in ili« smoky "Id cltv known as Ulii«lrn>wn THE LI'L*rLE KINGBIRD. , A Doughty Follow Who Whips Even the Hawk. There, again, is the blue jay's alarm note: he is a thief himself, and yet Ills righteous Indignation is unequalled when another thief is discovered in search of plunder. He was the first to see the great red-tulcd hawk that, with hungry eyes came sailing over the trees; lie gave the alarm, but took good care to keep himself! well under cover, leaving the battle to another bird smaller than himself. But this smaller bird never hesitates: out of his home in the orchard, uU'uight towU'd fee pirate h.e soars, loudly twittering his war-cry, and displaying the warrior plume of flame-colored feather in his head, upward, till high above both trees and hawk, he mounts, then swoops down on him in tierce anger, darting about, swooping and fluttering, striking down- streets, and at last reached a quiet back road full of unpretending little houses. At one of these houses he Inquired for a Miss Martin, who had lodged there some four or five years ago. Miss Martin, lie was informed, had loft ever so long—left without giving an address. Hervey's heart grew sick. In his haste to once more taste the luxuties of life he had been too precipitate. He knew that unless he could find the person ho wanted, it would have been better for him to have kept his good conduct money intact Tho woman of tlie house, who noticed his dismay, added that tho shop at tho corner might know what had become of Miss Martin ; so to the shop he went. He was in luck. He learned that his friend lived about a mile away; moreover, that she was now Mrs. Humphreys. As he heard this supplementary piece of news, tho man laughed so curiously that the shopwoman eyed him askance. Ho walked to the new address, that of another little house in another quiet street. He knocked. A good-looking, respectable young woman, carrying a baby, and followed by a toddling child, opened the door. She gave a low cry, and staggered back against the wall. Hervey raised his hat with mock politeness, and without invitation entered the house. The woman called to some one, who came and relieved Her or her children. Sh then opened the door of a sitting-room, int which she followed her visitor. Herve threw himself on a chair, and looked at the woman with a satirical smile. As yet not a word had passed between them. The man was tho first to break silence. "Well, Fanny," he said mockingly, "so you are married, and have forgotten me?" "No;l am trying to forget you," Sh* spoke bitterly. "And you Vt. That's a compliment, considering ' \ars of separation." The woman \d at him in the face. "Maurice," si'" - A "I am married. I married a kind, true .An, who loves me, and works for me and for our children. He knew a great deal, not all about my past, yet he took me and trusts me. You will sneer wliou I tell you I am trying to be a good woman and a good wife. You always sneered at anything good. But, Maurice, for tho sake of what we were once to each other, spare me now. Let mo live in peace, and see you no more." She spoke in solemn earnest, such earnestness that tho man's light laugh seemed di* cordant. "My dear girl," ho said, "I have no wish to tempt your feet from the patiis of domestic virtue—no wish to harm you. ] have fluor fish, to iry. But you may remember that when certain circumstances render ed if jnvperative—curse it 11 can bueak plain- 5. v,*._.,.„. j j wut that j ho m ^ ward between the great pinions of the hawk, till the latter is so tormented, mentally, rather than bodily, that he hurries away from the neighborhood, and the victorious kingbird, having pursued him a quarter of a mile or more, eaves him and returns to his own nest, md, perhaps, barely in time to< save it rom the shameless blue jay, who was limsclf the first to cry —Ernest 10. Thompson, Scribner. "Stop thief!' 1 in the Juna BALTIMORE ORIOLE. Remarkable Nests Made By This Pretty Bird. But tlie Baltimore oriole deserves a , longer notice: he is a prince .in a house of princes. The family to which he belongs is composed of birds remarkable either for plumage, note, nest, eggs, • or habit. Each can claim something curious and original; but the Baltimore shines in every one of these particulars, for in plumage, song, and nest alike he is an especially remarkable bird. When tlie earl of Baltimore became the lord ' of Maryland, his followers quickly noticed the correspondence between his heraldic livery of orange and black and the orange and black of the splendid bird that so abounded in the new estates, so that, very naturally, the name '• "Baltimore bird" was suggested, and. has been borne ever since. '• Ills nest is one of the most wonderful,' examples of bird-weaving in existence,', it is made of separate threads, strings, ,| horsehair, or strips of bark, closely interwoven into a sort of sack, and so liriuly knit together that it will bear a weight;, of twenty or thirty pounds. In southern parts of this bird's range the nest is suspended from two or threefl terminal twig for protection from merous enemies, such as snakes, oppos-j sums, and the Hive; it is also six or inches in depth to prevent the eggs be| ing thrown out by the high Avluds. B.u.| in the colder north, where tree-climb^, foes aro rare, it is hung, not at iti extremities of the branches, but in cluster of twigs that affords sb,elte$ it is much, shallower than when to , tlifl, wJ»A, but it is very ' - UW4 with soft, oriole's, "

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