U 1 11UI i
3(ood lyver Slexier.
HOOD RIVER, OR.n AUG. 3, 1389.
Her Rival's Valentine.
But the poison wan her friend In this dira
extremity. Its death-dealing power came
Into full action Just in thin;, and with a
groan Vida loosened her grasp, rolled over,
and lay still.
Horror-stricken, hut still with sufUcient
control of herself no; to make any fcreat dis
turbance, riiccbo rose up and staggered
from the room.
Reaching the head of the stairs she saw
that Ruth and her friends had Just left the
hall, but the inspector was just entering the
door.
She glided down, and ere he could ask
for Mr. Moore, laid a hand upon his arm.
"Come upstairs," she said, "I have some
thing to tell you."
She took him up and showed him the dead
Vida, and told him all she knew. lie list
ened like a man to whom a long-sought se
cret Is being revealed.
"Do not disturb the family," he said when
she finished, "but go and quietly bring Mr.
Moore to me."
Kuth's peace was not disturbed that night
They told her that Vida was not well, and
would keep her room, and when the morn
ing came Mrs. Moore took hertoBriarwood,
accompanied by Basil and Mr. Brandreth.
They led her to believe at first that a daa
gerous Illness had come upon Vida, and aft
er a few days that she was dead. Then lit
- tie by little the whole of the sad truth was
told. Much of it was known to Basil ere he
returned.
Vida was buried quietly, and the world
learnt little of her sins. The spacious In
spector saw that no good could come to him
by making any fuss about the affair, and
Mr. Moore amply compensated him for any
loss he could possibly have sustained.
"Let her sins be forgotten," the uncle
eaid, and In sober truth they were soon laid
Aside, and thought as little of as possible.
But all could never be quite forgotten,
and one evening some seven years later,
when Basil Brandreth "Handsome Bran
dreth" lie was called was sitting by a win
dow at Brlarwood with his loving wlie, he
called up the past for a few moments.
"I have been thinking, Ituth." he said,
that Vida must have been mad, after all."
"I do not think so," she answered.
"It Is the more merciful thought, dear
Buth."
"Perhaps so, Basil, but I can look the
truth In the face. She loved you, and you
passed her by. It made a bad woman of her,
and I am net sure that if I had been in her
t place that I should have been much hotter."
"Ruth I"
'Love is strong, Basil, and kails us to
good or evil," she said. "It bore Vida to a
grave, but you and me it has carr'.ed Into a
very happy land. Let us think of her kind
ly." "So be it," he said, and putting his arms
obout her, kissed her with all the love aud
tenderness she had known in their days of
wooing.
A word about Kenard. He did not come
back on St. Valentine's Day, and when the
news of Vkla's death was telegraphed to
him, he decided to remain abroad. How
much or how little he felt was never known.
When at last he did come back he was heart
whole. In due time lie chose a fitting maid
en for a bride, and is now a happy man.
The shadow of Vida rests lightly on Gor
donfelis. TUE END.
ELSIE'S VIOLKm
"Flower's! Who'll buy my flowers?"
This was the timid ci j of a little girl
of about ten years of ae, who, with a
basket of fragrant violets, was wan
dering up and down the streets of a
large city in America. She was a
pretty sight, with her large black
eyes and shining curls, and her poor
but neat dress.
"I do wish somebody would buy my
flowers; mamma will wonder why I
am away so long. Oh, here comes a
sailor man, perhaps he will buy tonie."
And gathering up all her courage, she
went up to him and said, "Dou't you
want to buy some flowers, sir?
Doubtless the sailor's bright, cheery
face had attracted the little one.
"Yes, my little girl; I'll take some of
your violets."
While she was choosing the bunches
lie said:
"What is your name, little girl? You
seem to be very young to be in the
streets alone."
"My name is Elsie Graham. Mamma
is sick, so I coaxed her to let me 4pick
some of our violets, and sell them, so as
to make some money."
"Well," said the sailor, "you are a
very good little girl to try and help
vour mother along, and to help you,
1 will take the rest of your flowers."
"Oh. thank you, sir; but I must
hurry home, mamma will be worried.
Good-bye, sailor-man."
"Good-bye, my little dearie. God
bless the pretty little thing. She re
minds me of my owu little daughter, I
left at home twenty years ago. God
knows where she is now."
"Oh! mamma, look at all the money
I've got!" With this exclamation
Elsie, our little iiower gin bounded
into the room where her mother was
lying.
"Oh, Elsie, darling, are you back
safe? I have been so worried for fear
something would happen to me or
you."
"Yes, mamma, safe and sound, with
a pocketful of money, and lots of good
things," said Elsie, putting her basket
down aud kissing her mother.
"Just see, mamma, one dollar and
fifty cents, beside the good tilings in
tlio hasket," said she, holding out the
money for her mother to see. "A nice
sailor-man bought all I had left, just
as it was getting so dark. 1 knew I
must come home, and I wanted to sell
them all so much. Now, mamma, lie
still and rest, and I'll soon have a good
supper reaily for you."
After they had partaken of their sim
ple evening meal, Elsie said, "Mamma,
if you are not too tired, will you tell
mo all about my sailor grandpa?"
"Well, my dear, when I was a little
girl, I lived in a village on the coast of
England, and my father used t to go
away on long voyages. When I was
about ten years old, he went away on
a trip from which he would not return
in two years. My dear mother ilreatlod
to have him go she knew the dangers
of the sea aud feared he might never
come home again. The evening he
bade us good-bye. I picked him some
of our violets, he put them in his
buttonhole, and said lie would keep
t'iem always to remember his little
Etsie. My mother and I stood at the
door, and watched him until he was
out of sight; then she took me in her
arms and wept the whole night. That
was t:e last time we ever saw him.
Ter years passed, and we had received
r', tidings. But one day a sailor
came, and told us that the vessel on
which my father had sailed, had been
lost at sea. and all on board had
perished. After this sad news, mother
seemed to pine away,, and her one
desire whs to go away from the
cruel sea. I had been married to
your father in the meantime, and we
took her to the pretty little village ol
E . There she died. Soon after
you were born, dear. Then your
father having heard so much of America
induced me to come here. When we
arrived, we went to one of the large
cities. But I had never lived in the
city, and I kept pining for the country,
so finally having saved enough money,
he bought this little home. One of
the things which I had brought from
our old home in England was some
roots of our violets. I planted some
in this little garden, and so we have
had them ever since. We lived happily
enough until the day that 3'our poor
father was brought home dead. Only
think, ju-t two years ago. Elsie, what
should I have done without my little
sunbeiV during that dark time? But
for yor, I would have been willing to
die. Only for your sake, I must live
aud struggle on, as best I can. Oh, .
my darling, it almost breaks my heart
to think that you must go in the streets
and earn u living, while I lie here,
helpless." Overcome with feelings
which she could not control, the sick
woman's form shook with sobs. I
Little Elsie tried to comfort her
mother, saying: "Oh, mamma dear,
don't cry, you have your little Elsie,
and this nice house and garden."
"Yes, my pet, but how long shall we
be able to keep it? If I don't get well,
we will be obliged to move to the city,
where I may rind employment."
The next morning little Elsie was up
betimes gathering and arranging her
slender stock of flowers. After mak
ing her mother comfortable, shestarted
out with her basket on her arm.
Either people were in a hurry this
morning, or they did not care for
flowers, for our little flower girl
walked around until afternoon, and
succeeded in rinding but a few pur
chasers. Just as she was about to
give up in despair, and go home, she
spied her sailor acquaintance on the
opposite corner, and she hurried across
to speak to him. "Hello, my hearty,"
said the old sailor, "here you are
again, bless your prettv face! But
your load seems to be rather heavy to
daT. I'll take some of your flowers,
to lighten it a bit."
"Oh, thank you, sir; but I'd rather
you wouldn't because because, you
might think that 1 only spoke to you
so that you would buy some of my
flowers. I was so glad to see you
again that I couldn't help but speak."
"Ah! my little maiden, 1 am right
glad that you like the old sailor.
Would you mind if I walked home with
you? 1 should like to see the garden
where those pretty violets grow."
"Oh, I should like it ever so much,
sir."
The two trudged along, the old man
beguiling the time by telling her stories
of sailor life.
"But now tell mo something about
yourself, little one.".
'Well, sir, papa is dead, ho was a
carpenter,
, and one day
one day he fell from a
big ladder, and then he was brought
home dead. Mamma ha3 not been
well since. Before papa died we
moved into this nice little cottage
where we live now. Mamma does not
like it as well as I do, because when
she was a little girl like me, she used
to live by the sea, and she always likes
to oe near it. juatuma s latner was a
sailor, I guess that was the reason
why I like you so much."
"Where did your mother live, when
she was small?" "I think it was in
C . sir. in En-rland " "In O ?"
said the old man, startineback in sur
prise. "If it should be, if it only could
dc, my daugnter? ' "liere Is where I
liv3, sir," said Elsie, as thev reached
a little, old-fashioned cottage, stand
ing in the center of a large garden.
In front of the house were beds of
lovely English violets, which gave
forth a most delightful odor. Behind
the house were a Targe number of fruit
trees, now in full blossom. As soon
as Elsie opened the door, sailor Ben's
eyes fell on u picture hanging on the
wall; he recognized it as one which
had been taken of his wife in the hap
py days when they lived in England.
When the door opened, aud Elsie's
mother came into the room, he tried
to rise, but could not. She looked at
the sailor for some time, without say
ing a word; but after long and earnest
gazing at his face, she cried: "Father,
oh father, have you como back to me
at last?" "Yes, my daughter, como
home never to leave you again," said
the old man, with tears running down
his cheeks.
"Now, mamma, you will get well
won't you?" And in her excitement
little Elsie ran from her mother to her
grandfather, saying, "Oh! I am so
happy! But dear uie, I have forgot
ten that you and grandfather must
want your tea, so I must get it ready."
"What, do you make the tea?" said
her newh"-founil grandfather. "Yes,
indeed, sue is quite a little housekeep
er;" said her mother fondly. They sat
up until a late hour, talking about the
past. "Hov was it, father, that they
brought back the report that you were
lost? "Well, my dear, you know the
ship was wrecked, and all of our crew,
except one sailor and myself, perished.
We managed to swim to an island, and
stayed there until we were picked up
by a vessel bound for Africa. When
we landed there, one Gay my com
panion and I were lost in the jungle.
We were taken captives by some Afri
can tribes, and held as prisoners for
quite a w hile, but finally we succeeded
in making our escape. When we
reached the sea coast, we found em
ployment on board of a vessel bound
for England. Old Tim Lockhart and
I must liave been the only survivors of
the wreck, and the vessel returning
from Africa, must have brought the
tidings that finally reached you. I
arrived at home to find it occupied by
strangers. No one seemed to, know
anything about' you, except that you
had married, and that vyoii had all
gone away together. I left ti e place
wholly disheartened. Jim was made
first mate and I captain of a ship
bound for this city, and I was just
going round to see the sights when I
happened to spy little Elsie. 1 noticed
her pretty violets, and they reminded
me of those which yrew in our garden,
and of which your mother was so
fond. Elsie remind 1 me of you when
yov were her age. I came tiiis after
noon to have a chat with 'my little
flower-girl,' as I called her, not daring
to hope that I might find my daughter
again."
"Oh father, to think that the very
trial which I thought so hard to bear,
has brought you back to me. It w as
a hard thing for me to let Elsie sell
lloiersin tue street. But there was
no help for it, for ever since my hus
band died, we have been getting poor
er and poorer, and sometimes we have
been almost without food." "My dear
daughter, you shall not know want
any more, if God is willing to spare
me yet for a few years." "Oh, mam
ma. I shall never like any flowers half
as well us I do violets, because they
brought me my kind old grandpa,"
said the happy little girl, caressing the
old sailor, on whose knee she had been
sitting all the while he was talking to
her mother. "But, my daugnter it is
twelve o'clock, and 1 am afraid our
little Elsie will lose all her roses, if
she stays up so late. Let us thank our
heavenly father that he has brought
mo safe home arain." And kneeling
down, the old man poured out his soul
in thanksgiving to God.
As soon as Jiiisie's mother was able
to travel, they went back to England
in sailor Ben's ship. But old Tim
Lockhart -who rejoiced with all his
heart at his mate's good fortune de
clared himself weary of a sea-faring
life, aud purchasing Mrs. Graham's
neat cottage, with its garden, orchard
and fields, settled down there for the
remainder of his days, with his house
hold gods around him. The last re
membrance the Grahams had of Amer
ica, was the sight of the ex-sailor in
the garb of a truck gardener, his wrin
kled face one tangle of tears and smiles
as, on the morning of their departure,
he leaned over the rail fence, waving
them a farewell with his red bandanna
and wishing Uifr.m "God-speed," while
he whistled "Nancy Lee, to conceal
his feelings. Little Elsie was soon a
great favorite with the sailors on board
the vessel, who called her the "little
violet girl." for she had brought with
her several plants of violets, and
was seldom without one in her hand,
or somewhere about her. When they
reached England, they bought back
their old homestead. Little Elsie never
forgot the good the violets had brought
her, and when she grew up and mar
ried, sho called hep' little baby girl
"Violet.' Louis Buhlieis, in Ayneri
can Agriculturist. J
Fanny So yoo. ae married, Hattie,
and have we&!Mi and all its possibili
ties? llattie Yes, ray husband is very
rich. Fanny And "you enjoy it ad
very much? Hattie Very much, in
deed. Fannie A ud your husand?
Hattie O, well, jou know in this
world, dear, we ha re to take the bitter
with the sweet WashiMjlon Critic.
Nearly Caught.
A minister was walking through ft
side street not verv far from hs par
sonage, says Mr. Grundy (New York),
when he observed a girl on the side
walk crying. Sho stv-mcd to be about
12 years of age aiid the good pastor
felt moved to inquire what might be
her loss or grief.
"Oh," said the girl, "I have been
looking to find a minister who will go
to see my mother. Sho is poor and
no no of these lit li ministers will go to
see her.
"I am a miuister," said the rector.
"Whare is your mother?''
He took the child's hand. He went
along the street, descended to Third
avenue and beyond it, and the child
turned into a house, going through a
hall. The minister went up one flight
of stairs and the jrirl beckoned him
further on. Something' he saw or felt
or had reflected caused him to pause,
lie now looked into the child's face
again and saw a different light in it
from what had appeared on the street.
A feeling of fear look possession of
him and he said:
"I won't go up there without som
person I know to accompany mo."
The child turned, and running down
a few steps seized him fast and said:
"If you don't give me money I'll
have you arrested for following me
home.
. lie saw in a moment the situation
he was in liable to be paraded in
every newspaper of the towp next day
for indulgences he had never con
ceived, his motives misconstrued, and
his family and congregation scandali
zed. At that moment he saw the bright
badge of a policeman coming up the
hall, and supposed himself to be al
ready in the meshes of the law. But
the man spoke to him by name, told
him that ho had followed him under
the belief that he was 'deceived, and
thereupon arrested the gill and her
mother, who followed that line of
business and kept respectable men
spotted, so to speak, so .as better to
decoy them.
Tourist (in Dakota) "Did you ever
meet Jim Perilow from Connecticut?
I think ho came out here." Citizen
"Sorter tall, skinnv-lookin1 cuss with
red hair?" Tourist "Yes; he was
consumptive. When' he left Connecti
cut his life was haugingby a thread."
Citizen "M'h'm, when he left h're,
nardner, his life was hanging by a ropo.
lie stole a h;ss." 7'crre llaute Ex
press. '
S. H.
Contractor
Estimates
Satisfaction
HOOD RIVER. OREGON.
RAND &
nimmr mran
tXS?Good Turnouts and Saddle Horses
Always in Readiness on the arrival of trains, for the Accommodation of Pleasure- Seekers,
Fishing Parties, Tourists, Etc.
. HORSES BOUGHT AND SOLD.
Feed and Stabling at the Lowest Possible Rates by the Day,
Week, or Month.
i"Orilers left at the Mt. Hood hotel will be attended to with promptness and dispatch.
Trucking tnd Draying also Done to Order.
HAND & HAMILTON,
HOOD KIVEE, Oil.
IX E. BERDAN,
HOUSEMOVINC
DONE QUICKLY' AND CHEAPLY.
Experienced Workmen.
The Best of Machinery.
Leave Orders with G. T. Prat her, Hood River, Or.
40-Acre Farms.
5 and 10-Acre Tracts
ONE MILE FROM TOWN.
-CHOICE-
iness licsidencc
LOTS.
FOR SALE BY
K3. R. BONE,
Cor. Oak and Second Sts.
HOOD RIVER, OREGON.
Tfce Celebrated French Care,
-!r"APHRODlTlNE";;;r
Ik Soi.o is a
POSITIVE
GUARANTEE
to cure an)
foimof liernill
iiseuse, or any
disorder of the
generative or
Kitus of either '
BEFORE
Mnii from the Ar I tR
excessive use of Klimulauts, 'Joimceu or Opium
vriurougu yomiiltil lUilinTctiou, over lulling
eiwc, ,Vr., Midi hh Loss of Hrain I'ower, Wakeful
lies, Hearing down I'aim in the Hack, Seminal
Weakness, Hysteria.NervouH I'rnstraliou Niw Initi
al Emissions, toueorrhmi, Jiizaiuess. Weak Mem
ory, l.ohsof Power and Impotency, which if tie
ejected often leail to prematuienldnueand inum
ity. Price f 1. 00 a bos. 6 boxes for fi.uo Sent by
mail on receipt of price.
A W It I XT K N J V A tt A ' T V. r. f or Aery ." 00
order, to refund the money if a Pri tiimirnl
cure in not effected. Thousand of testimonials
from old and ynutiir. of both sexes, permanently
cured bv Aphroditimc. Circular free. Address
THE APHRO MEDICINE CO.
WSSTKRK BRANCH.
HOX 27 PORTLAND OU
For sale by RLAKEU'V S CLAUK, TUWK -jylums
COX,
and Builder.
Furnished.
Guaranteed.
ins
HAMILTON'S
01 in om
i X