The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on December 21, 1898 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, December 21, 1898
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IflPPfctt JD®8 MOlNlSt AMONA IOWA, BUOIMBlfilt fAA.AA.A.A^.AJi.JL^A^^.^^^ A ROMANCE; »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»» + Wilden. CHAPTER I. a glorious spring day. The old hall in the spacious hall of the flerness has just announced slow- o all those whom it may concern A noon is past. Again the house has into Stillness, save for the distant of a fresh young voice singing, very gladness of heart, at iken intervals. ' 'ing down a long passage covered frayed cocoanut matting and ihing the thick oak door one comes what seems to be the only in- ed room in the house. Here again pace—ample space, and a lofty ceil- though certainly, as regards any 'dern luxuries in the way of furnl- e, the apartment Is bare enough, faded drugget covers the center of ! floor, eked out round the edge by ••cloth which has long since failed " boast more than faint visions of ttern. An old square piano with a iprt yellow keyboard stands open at '.e end of the room littered with lisle; some half-dozen chairs' of no Ttlcular pattern, and most of them an uncompromising nature, are hld^ tt under snippings of dark blue print mysteriously-shaped pieces of lln- ; the shabby old sofa Is also piled th various articles of feminine at- 3oth windows are thrown as high | the sashes will permit, so admitting genial sunshine' and sweet flower- |cented air—before one stands a very fractical-looking sewing machine, be-, jfpre the other is an old wicker table strewed with fashion-plates and paper ^patterns. Bending over the solid table which listands in the middle of the room is JShell Wllden. She is at present mak- King a determined onslaught with a pair |jof formidable scissors on a section of blue print before mentioned. She fihas ceased singing for the moment; her ||farows are slightly puckered, whilst |her keen grey-green eyes follow anx- |ibusly the line to be taken by her S'hears. There is a decision and energy every curve of her girlish rounded Jgure as she leans over-the work; the right sleeve of her dark dress is pushed |p nearly to the elbow to allow of free play, so disclosing a plump, rounded rm of almost snowy whiteness. Shell's fine pure white skin is her i personal attraction; but, as her sls- Iter Ruby often remarks, she pays for tit dearly, for Shell's complexion Is ac- Ijompanled by a wealth of wavy shim- lering red hair, faintly marked eyebrows, and a pair of eyes which are positively pale green in certain strong ghte, though they deepen almost to under strong emotion or in the l|amy gloaming of a summer evening. J Is a little below the middle height, |s|essing a round, childish face, with ' |-jthat speak so often when her e is wisely silent that her sister many a time takes umbrage at "ffexpress^ve looks. t |'e' has just finished her critical |ie| of work, and is again breaking 1)J unconscious song, when the door is quickly, admitting a tall, grace- f Woman of some thirty summers, bX>se light spring costume sets off her |ark classical beauty to advantage. feuby, for she it is, differs from her pister as much In temperament and disposition as in form and expression, stranger at first sight would have ik'en these two young women to be re- ated, yet such of their acquaintances yho were addicted to the pursuit of psychological inquiry were fond of Dinting out that behind the widely fifferent manifestations of the person- |lity of eacb there was the same orlg- aal force and Insistence. "Did you get, it?" questions Shell, fausing at her work, and looking a lit|e blankly at her sister's empty, finds, "Get it! Get what?" asks Ruby, Jearlng a space upon the sofa, and jnking down upon It languidly, f "Why, the tape, of course! I haven't inch left; and how can I get on with killings without tape?".cries Shell, •jth a pathetic ring In her voice. '"Dear me, your mind never seems to soar above dress-making!" says tlby, slightly shrugging her shoulders, jre got the tape all right—fortunately remembered it." |"Has'Vi got it, then?" asks Shell, no way affected by her sister's low Rinion of her intellect. ''Got it!" sneers Ruby. "You surely pn't imagine, child, that we are go- to burdens ourselves with parcels "such a broiling day as this?" 'I surely did not imagine that even would make any Poor errand-boy {imp a whole mile to bring a few leces of tape that would have fitted |to your pocket if you were ashamed carrying them openly," responds ell with spirit. _en there is a period of silence, dur- which Shell looks quite stern and |en haughty, while Ruby does not ag- to be altogether as self-satisfied le would wish to be—possibly be- j it irritates her to see. Shell more .ease than herself. Shell meanwhile .ys steadily on, and me conversation reatens to come to a sudden terml- |tlon, when a somewhat sarcastic ace from Shell causes it to revive. There is no greater mistake than Bglng parcels oneself," pursues in an Injured tone--"parcels *** such a nuisance! and why should one do errand-boy's work-i-they are paid for it?" Shell makes no answer, but, bending over the table/begins to fit a tissue Paper pattern on her stuff, making a scornful and expressive grimace of contempt at her sister's affectation. ' "I know you dote on carrying parcels; but then you do so many things purposely to annoy that it is no use attempting to stop you," continued Ruby, sighing gently. Shell still keeps silent, only smiling knowingly at her pattern as she twists it from side to side. " "You were very wise not to go down Into the town this morning," Ruby goes on after a short pause. "Not that there was much sense in the excuse that you hadn't time, for I see you have been wasting It in the grounds"—pointing with her sunshade to a large vase full of lilac which stands In the center of the chimney piece. "It Is so absurd to put flowers In this horrid old room." Shell turns her head sharply and smiles at the mauve and white plumes behind her. "I just couldn't resist them," she says softly. "I took a rush round the grounds before setting to work, and I felt I must bring a bit of sweetness back with me." Ruby Is not listening to the explanation; her eyes are gazing absently through one of the open windows. "We heard some news In the town," she observes with a deliberate suddenness. "Did you?" returns Shell carelessly, as she continues to adjust her pins. "Yes—Robert Champley Is expected home- next week." "Is he?" says Shell, pausing suddenly in her work and opening her green eyes to their fullest extent. Then she continues musingly—"Poor fellow!" "Your pity seems rather ridiculous," observes Ruby Impatiently. "A man with over two thousand a year Is not to be pitied." "Not even when he has lost the only person who could make that two thousand a year worth having?" queries Shell, with a curl of her lip. "Absurd! He must have got over his wife's death by this time," says Ruby, tapping her sunshade restlessly on the carpet; "besides, he has his children." "Poor little things!" muses Shell, with a short sigh. "Why poor? Of course he will marry again; and they will be well looked after." "Will they?" says Shell dubiously. "I am sure" I hope so; besides, It remains to be proved that Robert Champley will marry .again—I think it very doubtful myself." "As if you, a child of nineteen, could possibly form an opinion!" exclaims Ruby. "Why, you were, a perfect baby when his wife died—I wonder that you can even remember her." "Let me see—I must have been sixteen," remarks Shell, with provoking accuracy, "because I know It happened four years since; and I shall be twenty the day after to-morrow." "Of course you would remember him —I didn't exactly mean that," owns Ruby—"only at that age you could not possibly understand much of his character. Now' poor Clara used to say that I comprehended him so thoroughly—nearly as well as she did. You know Clara and I were close friends." "I always thought Mrs. Champley was Garnet's great friend," observes Shell, with just a shade of unbelief in her tone. "At one time," admits Ruby irvsome confusion; "only after Garnet m&ried and went to India I took her place." "No one person can take another's place," says Shell decidedly. "I know Garnet corresponded with Mrs. Champley up to the time of her death—I have often heard mamma say so." "I am very glad that he is coming home," pursues Ruby, ignoring this last allusion of her sister's intimacy with Mrs. Champley. "1 have often felt it a weight on my mind that I have not been able to carry out dear Clara's wish, and look after her children." Shell has straightened her back, and now stands staring full at Ruby with such a quizzical glance that her sister says with an impatient flush— "Well—foave I said anything so very extraordinary? . You look as If you were going to eat me." "Well, It certainly sounded odd, to say the least of it," replies Shell, resuming her work," to hear that you were going to look after Robert Champley's children. I should imagine that he is pretty well able to look after them himself." "As If a man could possibly know anything about the training of children!" answers Ruby contemptuously. "Of course he can't, I promised their poor mother that I would do my best to look after them, and I shall allow no conventional scruples to prevent my fulfilling that promise." "I am quite sure you won't," says Shell in a low tone to her work. Then suddenly a happy thought strikes her. "Perhaps he won't have the children home," she says, with a hopeful laugh —"he can't do better than leave tbe m where they are, at bis sister's." "Ah, V at she Is going aorov, health; and it is solely be _. must now take charge of the .£,*&">.. himself that he is coming tome!" 1e Joins Ruby, with a trlumphftnf glea-* in her fine brown eyes. ( "Well. I suppose it is easy enougl. to get competent nurses when one has plenty rf money," says Shell; and then, dismissing the subject with an Impatient Shrug Of her shbUldeirs, she aSks, holding up a long narrow piece of tissue paper, "Will you have your back cut in four parts or six?" Ruby's mind soon descends to the practical, advancing to the table, She at once enters into the most minute instructions for the cutting out of her dress. "I think this pale sateen such a sweet shade," she says, holding up a bit of the material admiringly. "I have half a mind to get a pale pink, too." "If so, please look sharp!" remarks Shell, in a tone of anything but keen .delight. "I like to get all the summer dresses over In one batch and not keep on at It for months." "But. my dear Shell," expostulates Ruby, "I thought you liked cutting out and fitting. I am sure you always tell mamma so; besides, you are so clever at It." "Oh, I don't mind!" admits Shell, rather crossly. "Of course one of us must play at being fond of It, since we can't afford a maid. Only it does rather annoy me for any one to be so insane, as really tojlmaglne that I prefer work- Ing on a morning like this to being out of doors;" and she heaves a sharp little sigh as she glances out at the waving tender-green boughs of the newly- budded trees. „ "Why that heart-rending sigh, my sweet sea-Shell?" asks a tall, willowy girl with blue eyes, who has just entered the room. As she speaks 'She lays her arm caressingly around the girl's firm shoulders. "She Is quite overcome at the prospect of cutting me out a second wash- Ing dress," answers Ruby, in a tone which Implies, "Hasn't she an unfortunate temper?" "Oh, dear—and I was just going to ask her to fix. my buff print, because she Is so clever at that sort of thing!" says Violet, In a tone of consternation. "All right, VI dear—I adore cutting out," laughs Shell. "Bring your buff print by all means—and any other material that you can lay your hands on. 'In for a penny, in for a pound." It is'a pity that we are not all three the same figure—In that case I could cut out half-a-dozen at the same time." "Do you seriously mean you- would be kind enough to do more than one— because there is my new flannel tennis- frock to arrange?" asks Violet coax- Ingly. "I'll do it," answers Shell rather shortly—"only, if I do all the cutting and fixing and trimming, I must bargain that you and Ruby help with the machine work." "Yes, dear, of course—only that stupid old machine will never work for me," responds Ruby, with a vicious look at that useful but Inartistic piece of furniture. "I'll make it work for me, or I'll know the reason why!" laughs VI, seating herself before the machine and commencing to arrange her cottons. "Now, Shell, toss me over your skirt, child!" "How can you be so energetic, VI, after our long walk?" says Ruby, rising from the sofa with a slight yawn. "I have quite a headache with the heat and must rest till lunch, or I shall be fit for nothing during the remainder of the day;" and then she leaves the room with a languid step, and the "click, click" of the old sewing machine echoing pleasantly In her ears. (To be Continued.) OLD SHOES. And a Word About Other Thlnca Old, Including Old Habits. " 'As eaiy as an old shoe," is a familiar saying," said Mr. Staybolt, "and there can le no doubt that an old shoe is a mighty comfortable thing. After we have worn the new shoes, close fitting, hard, and formal, how gladly we put them off, and w^ith what joy wo put on the shoes that are old and worn and familiar to the feet. Old shoes, however, are not the only thing old that we like. We like an old bed, if it is not too old, but just old enough, so that while still soft and comfortable, it is also shaped somewhat to the body, v.hich It supports at every point, yielding a degree of comfort which not the finest of beds can afford when It is new. But it Is so with all things old, that are not too old, including old habits. We cling to them, so long as they give us comfort, and we hate to change. We are creatures of habit, who would if we could follow to the end along the first comfortable rut we fall Into, and never look out above its sides. And it is well for us that our shoes wear out, and that we have to buy new ones and wear them; that we are in various ways compelled to change; that we are rooted out now and then and 'set going anew. And some of us profit by this change. Once lifted out of the rut we stay up on the plain, where there Is nothing to cramp us, and where we can lay about freely In any direction in accordance with our power, but more of us, I fancy, rather welcome the days when the shoes grow old again, and yield without much struggle to tbe enticements of ease and comfort." Gaust 's the smallest republic in the world. It has an area of one mile and 0, population of 140. It has existed since JC48, and Is recognized by both Spain and France. It is situated on A flat top of $i mountain in the Pyrenees, and has a president who is elected by tb.e council 9 f twelve, CHAFER 1. HE heavy rufnbie of the long passen* get train from the West had not yet died away, and ,clouda of smoke Btlil marked Us on* ward course, as a man walked slowly along th6 streets of a busy Eastern town. There was nothing in hts appearance to especially distinguish him from the many men who passed along the same streets. He was simply a gentlemanly appearing man, -no longer young, tall and well formed, resolute of face, and With hair that was turning gray. He was well but quietly dressed, and Walked with the step of one tired from travel, the chest thrown forward as It to breathe, In all its sweetness, the pure air free from the dust and smoke of locomotives. • It was Chrlstmastide. At no other season are shop windows so enticing, nor so many people on shopping bent, wearing that conscious look betraying the purchases that are meant to be concealed. All this, to say nothing of the venders of evergreen and the heaps of pine and cedar about church doors telling of the Christmas trees within. Once when opposite one of the best looking houses, he walked more slowly for a little way, looking up at the house across the street, as if in expectation of seeing some one. Turning into another street, he paused .before a rather pretentious, house just long enough for a glance at all the windows, and shortly afterward a trim maid opened the door in response to his ring, and ho was ushered in. Then, following the maid's anouncement, came the quick light tread of feet down the stairway and a woman who, in a feminine way, was like the man wait- Ing In the^drawlng room, rushed into the room and into his arms with a welcome full of tears and smiles and exclamations of "Oh, Bob! Bob! Why didn't you let us know? I am so glad to see you!" "Just started on an impulse. Didn't know really that I would come until an hour before I was off. I thought, too, it would bo pleasant to surprise you all, and then when I was here I wished you had known of my coming. It was almost uncanny, as if I had been dead, coming along the old streets and finding them all changed and meeting only strangers along the way." The reunited brother and sister, for such they were, sat for a long time, exchanging reminiscences of the past and Information of the present, until they were interrupted by a young girl, scarcely yet a woman; who, rosy cneeked and bright eyed, came tripping into .the room. "This is Nellie, Robert, your eldest niece. Your uncle, from Oregon, my dear." "Not baby Nell!" exclaimed tiie gentleman, in surprise,. while the young lady in question released herself from his embrace with something like a pout, half indignant, as is the manner of very young ladies at being regarded as only little girls. The uncle was quite unconscious of the little assumption of dignity, and the mother, more observant, passed It by, saying: 'She has been round helping the Falrlee girls,' Tom's daughters, decorate for a party they are to give tomorrow night. .Did you have a pleasant morning, Nellie?" . "Oh,'yes! More fun! Only Grace and I were making some little joke about Miss Patience under the mistletoe, and we thought she heard us, We went into tUe library for some wreaths she was making for us, and we imagined that she looked flushed and hurt. Isabel was real cross with Grace 'and me about' ft, and we were sorry as could be, for she Js so sweet and nice." "You girls, I fear, are' very thoughtless," said her mother, soberly, looking across at her brother, who had picked up a newspaper with which to shield his face from the heat of the open flre, and who remarked In a reminiscent way: "Well well! I think 1 remember one or two little tots of Tom Falrlee's, mere babies, and now they are giving parties!"' A little later Miss Nellie went into ibe dining room, where her mother was adding a few extra touches to the luncheon, and left Uncle Robert musing before the flre. »•*»•» CHAPTER II. Miss Patience had heard the thoughtless words. She handed over the shining garlands on mistletoe to the merry girls who ran into the library for them, then dropped her hands listlessly into her lap as she looked far away through the window—not at the holiday sights without, but down a long vista of years at a girlhood as gay and impulsive as Oracle's and Nellie's own, -It was not so strange that they should laugh at the idea of any one caring to surprise Aunt Patience under the mistletoe bough, nor that to their sixteen or seventeen years thirty-five should seem a period of life entirely remote from all thought of romance. When hearts are fresh and sympathetic and loving, as Miss Patience had always been, the touch of years falls lightly. But it had come to her once before, a kind of revelation, this realization that youth was past, An old- time friend, one of, those overbanest persons who must say the truth an<J the whole truth even at 9, venture of saying a little more, on meeting her for the first time after a lapse of years, had followed up her first greeting with. "How you have changed, Patience! But then you can't deny that y»» M9 W longer young." PaUejee, vfcs thought Of fofiytef tt, ftltheugn It had scarcely occurred to net betel*, thld fine did not doubt that she had changed. Alone In her o$n room, she fastened her ddof and threw the blinds wide open that the unpltying light mlgnt fall as severely as possible on the face 6he*stu8ied 1ft her inirtof. It was a pleasant face and a youthful ofti.. But Miss Patience saw only the coming of the crows' feet around hef eyes, the tiny lines settling about the cornets of her mouth and In the soft, brown waves of half- the shining of a few "gray threads./ She Wasn't Weaker' than most of ns, perhaps. Yet she had closed the blinds a little sadly. You'th is beautiful, and a precious possession to us all. Who Is there among Us Who would hot for its beauty, its hope and even its ignorance, give in exchange a goodly portion of sUch store of knowledge, experience or success as the added years have brought? , i .' . On that other day she had folde'a away a favorite gown or two as no longer suited, with their touches of bright color and frivolous adornment, to her sober years. But now she tried to put away in some secret chamber of her woman's heart certain sweet memories and a few "fond hopes. For, like that revelation of her lost youth, came the consciousness that the sweetest things that had come Into her life— would ever come into it—were only memories now. "Aunt Patience, we're ready for the wreath for the doorway," roused her from her reverie. She hastily gathered up the green for the wreath not yet begun, and went to work making it as carefully as if that were the day before a Christmas of seventeen years ago, and she was wondering if Robert Bently would linger after the other guests were gone and tell her the secret she knew he wanted to tell. He had waited. She would never forget how he looked standing there under the chandelier, and she had thought him surely the handsomest lover in all the world. Even now her cheeks burned as she remembered how slight had been her resistance when he said: "But, Patty, you're under the mistletoe. It's my right to kiss you, you know." Why should these old memories come crowding upon her after all these YOU NEEDN'T SAY A WORD, PATTY years? In the afternoon she donned a street dress and-went out. "Sitting over the flre all morning has made me mopey," she said. CHAPTER III. In another handsome home a young girl sat dreamily rocking before a glowing flre when the doorbell rang. "Not callers, I hope," and it was with a gesture of impatience that she took the card the servant brought in. But her face brightened as she glanced at the elegant script. "Oh, it's Miss Falrlee! Show her right up here," "Indeed, Miss Patience," she ,saia, Impulsively, when she had seated her visitor in the warmest corner, "I don't think any one else would be. quite so welcome as yourself this afternoon. You always seem so glad to see people happy, and I am very happy indeed." There was, by way of emphasis, a little wave of one pretty hand, and Miss Patience was not slow to discover that it was meant as well to direct attention to the ring that sparkled on the third finger. "You see," aa she grew more confidential, "Will said he meant to wait until tomorrow, but he couldn't, and—'' as the bright color rose in her face— "I am very glad he did not, for I am so happy." Miss Patience went down to the street again feeling that, in a certain sense, her calls were likely to prove a failure. There was a flurry of snow in the air,«and she turned homeward. "I might just as well," she thought, "for clearly I am not in accord with the season, nor with other people," She was annoyed and impatient with herself, for, try as she would, she could not forget that in that far-away time she had been a little unjust to Robert. She had been proud of him, ambitious for him; but bow'proud of him and how dear his success would be to her she had not let him know. And he, high-spirited and sensitive, had misunderstood. "Twas nothing, really nothing more than "trifles light as air," but there had opened that breach between them, and be had gone off West somewhere. The letter she was tempted to write and which, she left sure, would have brought him borne again fast enough, she had been a little too proud to write, and now she did not'evei* knew where be was. His own family bad not heard from him for a Jong time. "Married, of course, long ago. And QW would tbinfc we plnjng beoauje J am not married, too, and at feeing an herself, and changed fcgf mind going fcoine. "i shall just m&kft & different fo Of calls from that f had frfftfinW decMed, ' The ne*t bell tnftt she fang was of & i^ifti, little fao'tite on a plarti, fi«f» row street. The weary fads 6f Ih4 black-robed woman who Opened 166 door brightened when she sa» whs hef visitor was. ' >, "1 hope you wlii e*eu9e tnV site- said, as she took up the work basket beside her chair, "but my mending has been accumulating, and soffie of ft triust be done today." Miss Patience assured hef that sfa» would enjoy hef call the mofe, knotf-, • ing that It was not an Interruption, aad added, with a laugh: "I suppose every one almost Is busy excepting myself this afternoon, and 4 ought to be at home this minute put*-' ting the finishing touches on a few 1 lit* tie gifts, but 1 thought I could do it t04 night. Are you quite ready for yous little ones?" "There are no gifts to prepare, J don't much mind telling you, Patty, Wg have been friends so long. This yea* I have had only my little income, and, with Nellie's Illness in the fall, thera was only enough left for the bare necessaries. While their father was allva Christmas was always such a happj| time with us that I have dreaded to tell the children they must expect nothing this year. It seems a pity to dispel these little childish illusions while their faith is so sweet and strong, but 1 must talk to them tonight. if only Harry were with ua again! We could be happy together if we are poor." The poor woman was crying hysterically now, and Miss Patience stroked the work-worn hand in silent sympathy. Mary Robertson had always been so proud and reserved. It must be a sofa heart, indeed, that could induce her to say so much. "Haven't we loved each other all our lives. Mary?" asked Miss Patience, softly. "Let me play Santa Claus for your little ones this once. I have n"o one of my very own to make happy, and my pleasure,'! think, will be greater than theirs." Mother love was stronger than pride, and when Miss Patience came out of an uptown establishment late in the even- Ing her purse and her heart were alike light. A turkey and cranberries, a big package of toys dear to the hearts of children, with a couple of new hooka and a bunch of hothouse flowers had been sent to the little house on that back street. A bundle of warm flannels had gone with a basket of fruit to an invalid girl in a poor tenement. As Miss Patience fastened up her wraps for the homeward .walk something very like happiness shone in her face. As she entered the hall one of the little girls was scurrying upstairs, a mysterious something hidden In the folds of her dress. "Aunt Patience," called the child over the balustrade, "Papa's brought some one to dinner. He said if I saw you come home, I must tell you to come right on in. They're in the back parlor," and she was off to the nursery. "I wonder who It can be?" thought Miss Patience,. as she parted the portieres. There were her brother and his wife, the two older girls and, just rising above the back of an easy chair, the . top of a man's head. "Here she comes now," said Mr. Falrlee; "we were just speaking of you, Patience." Miss Patience stopped suddenly in the middle of the room. The face of the man who had risen, tall and erect, by her brother's side was one she remembered very well. His hair was turning gray— grayer than her own, yet he looked as If time and fortune had dealt kindly with him. As he came toward her with outstretched band, there was something in his face that carried her back to that other Christmas time when he had told her he' loved her, and she had thought him the handsomest lover in all the world. "Don't you know me?" he asked, eagerly. "Yes, Robert," she said, simply. What this tall, bronzed stranger saw was a fair, fresh face, for all its flve- and-thlrty years, the color heightened by the dark fur trimmings of her dress, and the eyes full of a shy, sweet gladness at his coming that -he had scarcely dared to hope he Would ever see again. He quite forgot that any one was looking; or, if he remembered, he did not care, for he took the upturned face between both his hands and tenderly kissed one soft, pink cheek, Then he said, with something of tne old roguishness: "You needn't say a word, Patty, for you walked right under the mistletoe." And Miss Patience, who had only that very morning laid her life's little romance in its grave, what if she did feel a sudden dread of being laughed at .' Conscious as she was of the smllea on the faces of her brother and bis wife, and that most mischievous ot nieces, Grace, looking at her }n wide- eyed amazement— what did it matter? Had not all of hope and happiness, and almost youth itself,* come back to fter with this happy Christmas eve and .her old love? It is not necessary tp say that Brother Bob bad company on. bis return to Oregon, and that Patience w^s no longer an °ld but a blushing bride,— j^ew Yorfc ger. . HU Only Mr. Buyer—Mr. Green, there seem,? be something tbe matter with the I bought Q? ypu yesterday.* and wheez.es atetwaisigiyv perhaps, i^ if wJn,a*brQk,e,», yo,u »<3,Yliie m to do.?

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