CHAPTER XVIII.-(Continued.)
A moment's silence followed, broken by
the sound of Tom's heurty laugh, with
Agnes' somewhat shrill treble mingled
Lady Nevil's thoughts were abruptly
changed. Now she wanted to bo on shore
to interrupt that tete-a-tete. She hated
nothing so much as to see Tom and
Agnes together; it was a certainty that
her cousin was infusing some poisonous
drop Into hor h,!B'innd's pi'nd.
"Let us land," she said to Dallas; but
he had no desire to leave his charming
hostess just as they were discussing such
interesting subjects.
"Oh, not yet," he Implored; "don't go
in yet. Do you really want to?" And
June, who always felt it difficult to op
pose any one who asked anything urgent
. ly of her, forced a smile, and said:
"I will stay here if you like. It is very
pleasant here." ,
Two or three minutes later her mind
was immensely relieved by hearing
Madge's voice join Tom's, and presently
she saw that young lady hanging on
Tom's arm, while Mr. Carslake and
Agnes walked at some distance behind.
'The change of companionship had been
brought about in this way: When Dal
las and June betook themselves to the
boat, Madge and Mr. Carslake had made
their way to the avenue the place par
excellence at the Flail for lovers and love
making, the place to which in former
days Tom had always tried to inveigle
June as being private and cut off from
the rest of the compauy.
Madge had talked away in her usual
bright fashion, and her companion had
listened to her with that sense of pleased
amusement which he always felt at her
quips and pranks. His own disposition
was grave, though the reverse of morbid,
but he had a strong sense of humor and
a keen sympathy with bright and happy
young people. Ills greatest drawback to
the enjoyment of their society was his
extreme diffidence in himself, his fear
lest he should be a kill-joy and spoil
their fun. On Madge, however, he pro
duced anything but . this effect; his
gravity, leavened as it was with an evl
dent appreciation of her sallies and high
spirits, rather stimulated than sobered
her love of fun.
They had begun by laughing, and were
Inclining to a more sentimental mood un
der the influence of moonlight, and the
charm of the evening, when Mr. Cars
lake, with the very best intentions, made
a singularly unfortunate remark:
"What a very sweet woman that sister
of yours is!"
v-It acted on Madge like a douche of
vced water. The moment before she had
been full of gayety, slightly tempered by
a most agreeable rfientimentality, for she
was undeniably ft love with her com
panion; now she was froissee, piqued, an
noyed, she felt angry Indeed with her
friend for not having more discernment.
. She stopped short; the color coaue to
her face, and she said, with extreme de--cision:
"She is not at all a sweet woman, and
I should not have thought you were the
sort of man to be so easily taken in."
Mr. Carslake was astonished; he was
rather shocked, too, and he looked it.
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Madge, "you are
horrified, I see. You think the mere fact
of a person being one's sister ought to
make one adore her; but I assure you
the theory won't hold water. You are
much more apt to dislike people who be
long to you than any one else, because
.you are obliged to see so much of them
and they have such Immense opportuni
ties of aggravating you."
The pair were standing face to face,
'Madge talking herself angry, Mr. Cars
lake preserving his scaudalized expres
sion. "Pray, why do you think she is a sweet
woman?" asked the young lady, slightly
raUlng her voice and looking at him with
rather an aggressive flash in her eyes. '
Mr. Carslake's face relaxed Into a
smile.
"Well, really," he remarked, "she
seemed to me very sweet and kind and
anxious to please every one. I cnught
some of her remarks to our host during
dinner, and I confess they gave me the
Idea that she was a very charitable, good
person; and then I thought she behaved
o nicely In offering to remain with him
afterward and to go and see the child up
stairs." t
"That shows, ihva," retorted Madge,
"how little any one not behind the scenes
Is able to Judge ' She only stopped with
ITom and talked about going up to see
iittle T6m to aggravate June."
"Really?" with evident Incredulity. "I
thought Lady Nevil seemed quite dis
posed for a tete-a-tete with Broke, and
our sifter good-naturedly offered to stay
and amuse Sir Thomas."
"Ohl exclaimed Madge, growing still
ngrler,' "that is Just the delightful way
Agnes has of giving people wrong im
pressions. Do yon suppose," with sotne
(Vehemence, "that June cores two straws
about pallas? She is simply wrapped up
in Tom and the child."
1 "I a sorrj I have offended you by
snying what I thought would naturally
please a sister," remarked Mr. Carslake,
gravely.
"You have offended me very much," re
torted Madge, with unwonted petulance.
"I thought you had more discernment. All
our lives-June and I have suffered from
Agnes' sweetness which had the delight
ful knack of making us look in the wrong.
No doubt," a little quiver coming into her
voice, "when you have ateii u liiiie more
of her sweetness, you will come to the
conclusion that I am not at all a nice
person."
'That I shall not," he answered, and
made as though he would take Madge's
hand, but she eluded him.
CHAPTER XIX.
Madge, who meant to atone for her mis
conduct by behaving very prettily to him,
was much disconcerted at not being given
the opportunity. She felt rather crest
fallen, but worked herself Into a fit of
anger before she finally went to sleep,
and resolved to punish him for being
vexed, although she had done her utmost
to provoke him.
A picnic had been arranged for the fol
lowing day; it was to he held in the same
spot as the one recorded much earlier
In this story the picnic which, as far as
June was concerned, had been such a
dismal failure. Two girls from the neigh
borhood and two soldiers were to swell
the Hall party. Tom could not possibly
leave his harvesting operations, and Ag
nes had declined to join them a circum
stance for which June would have been
devoutly thankful but for the uncom
fortable suspicion that her cousin would
find her way up to the Hall in quest of
Tom senior under pretense of a visit to
his son. However, she did not allow the
thought to trouble her seriously.
It was as lovely a day as that former
one, and the party was very cheery, to
all appearance. Before starting Lady
Ncvil had taken Madge aside and said to
her:
"My dear child, do not carry this any
further. I am sure It is not wise. - Leave
Dallas alone and keep with Mr. Carslake.
He is not a man to be trifled with, I feel
convinced."
But Madge tossed her head willwully,
saying:
"I mean to punish him. What business
had he to go off last night without wish
ing me good-night?"
"You would be very sorry If you lost
him." ,
"i don't mean to log him," answered
Madge. "Now, Juny darling, you let me
manage my lover my own way; you know
I am rather successful in these little af
fairs," with an arch glance.
"One may sometimes be a trifle tpo
clever," answered June. "I dare say your
system might answer with some men, but
I doubt its success in the present case."
"We shall see," smiled Madge. "Be
sides, darling, I am not going to let any
one think that Dallas is making up to
yon."
"You ore very kind," returned June.
"But I fancy I can take care of myself."
"1 don't know," returned Madge. "La-dl-da
is very seductive. I can't help rath
er feeling the influence of his fascinations
myself."
Here their conversation was interrupt
ed ,and five minutes luter they were en
route.
Madge, having arranged her plan of
battle, proceeded to carry It out. Nothing
would please her but that Dallas should
be her squire, and she would not allow
him to leave her side or to speak to any
one else.
Though It was against Mr. Broke's
principles ever to repel the advances of a
pretty woman, he yet, being actuated by
gentlemanlike feelings, thought It not the
proper thing to interfere with a friend in
a genuine love affair, and, though he did
not at all object to the fact of being made
a cat's-paw of by a lady who was willing
to divert and be ngreeable to him, he
thought it very hard line on Carslake to
be punished for an apparently imaginary
offense.
Madge, while she flirted ostentatiously
with the Guardsman, gave an occasional
Bidelong glance at the real object of her
affections, and was exhilarated by observ
ing that she was making him unhappy.
Luncheon over, Madge insisted on a
stroll In the woods, which only meant that
she took Dallas a little away from the
rest of the party and sat with him under
a big tree while he smoked cigarettes, In
which, for the sake of bravado and with
a wicked hope that Mr. Carslake might
see her, she joined him. She was not al
together very happy, so she talked volubly
and feigned higher spirits than usual.
"Here you are!" cried Lndy Nevil's
voice gayly, as she appeared close at hand
with Mr. Carslake. ."Come with us for
a stroll." i
Her ladyship tried to Maneuver to leave
Madge and her lover tgether, and Dal
las was fain to second her, but Madge
wos willful and linked her arm pi June's,
and Mr. Carslake made do eftVH to over
come her perversity. I
Befort the picnic party arted for
home Mafge had partially come to net
senses, and if Mr. Carslake had made the
smallest overture to her would have kind
ly consented to forgive and restore him to
favor. But he made no such overture.
and agnin the young lady's ire was kin
dled. Thnv hntl to iiuhs thp rwtnm mi
the wny back, and Madge insisted on
wtsning tnem good-tiy and going home.
June, being exceedingly vexed with her,
did not cross her very eagerly to return
to the Hall.
Mr. Carslake uttered not a word. Dal
las was the onlv one who niade nnv of.'
fort to shake her resolve.
The willful young lady pawed a very
unpleasant evening aud night with her
own reflections. She hnd overacted her
part had vexed and hurt the kindest,
dearest, best man that ever lived; she
would like to throw herself at his fwt
and beg his forgiveness; she began to
despise her own cleverness, and felt quite
spiteful against Dullas for having lent
himself to be her tool. Never mind! all
should be changed on the morrow. She
would make the handsomest of amendes,
and would never, never behave so badly
again.
The next morning her eyes unclosed on
a tear-stained landscape; the rain was
coming down In torrents. She Intended
to have gone up to the Hall the instant
after breakfast, but the weather made it
impossible. At 12 o'clock there was a
slight cessation of the downpour and she
made a valiant start. Down came the rain
again, but nothing daunted, she pursued
her way and arrived dripping with wet
at her destination. June met her in the
hail and beckoned her into Tom's room.
"Now," said her ladyship, with quit"
unaccustomed severity, "I hope you ar
happy."
"I'm not at all happy," answered
Madge, rather flippantly. "I feel like a
drowned rat."
"Mr. Carslake," proceeded June, too
much displeased to offer, with her usual
hospitality, to assist her cousin in her un
comfortable plight "Mr. Carslake left
twenty minutes ago. And it is quite cer
tain that you will never see any more of
him."
Madge turned ghastly, white.
"Gone!" she stammered.
' "Yes, gone. He made some bald pre
text about a letter he had received, but
I have since ascertained that no letter
came for him this morning."
Madge flung herself Into a chair and
sobbed as If her heart would break. Her
case was hopeless. He had not asked
her to marry him, though she had felt
certain he meant to; there had been no
quarrel between them that would admit
of her writing to explain or to ask for
explanations. She felt thnt she had been
too clever and had outwitted herself and
broken her own heart.
CHAPTER XX.
The year was waning, Christmas not a
great way off.
Sir Thomas and Lady Nevil had spent
two months at their northern place in en
tertaining a succession of shooting par
ties. June had enjoyed this immensely;
she had, no doubt, a great Jove of pleas
ure and excitement.
Madge had been a guest the greater
part of the time. She was not the same
willful, mirthful, mischievous creature
that we have hitherto known her. No
need to check the exuberance of her spir
its now. She laughs and talks; outwardly
she does not give any particular impres
sion of wearing the willow; but, as a
matter of fact, she is desperately unhap
py. Three weeks before Christmas, Sir
Thomas and Lady Nevil, with their heir
and suite, left the north and returned to
the Hall. Tom was rejoiced to get back
to his beloved home. June was almost
equally pleased, and only one thought
cropt In to dampen her enthusiasm. That
was the thought of Agnes.
Several times during the homeward
journey June had hoped she would be
spared seeing Agnes on their arrival; It
was with a feeling of unfeigned vexation
that, as they drove up to the Hnll door,
she saw her cousin on the step to meet
them, arrayed In her sweetest smiles. Tom
greeted her with amazing heartiness, and,
to behold her reception of his son and
heir, one might have Imagined hor a
mother parted from her long-lost child.
Tom Insisted on her remaining to dinner,
and she accepted this invitation without
the smallest demur or any reference to
June. Her ladyship's home-coming was
completely spoiled; the shadow which had
disappeared entirely from between her
and her husband loomed ominously over
them once more; she felt angry and im
patient with him.
At dinner Tom was in the highest spir
its. Agnes evinced considerably more
than her wonted chastened gnycty, and
it was only June who felt vexed, discon
tented, out of sorts. She could not be
pleasant to her cousin, and she was an
grily conscious that Agnes Infinitely pre
ferred her displeasure to seeing her in her
usual mood.
Ai ten o'clock her ladyship hoped, with
some coldness, that her cousin would ex
cuse her, and Agnes jumped up, exclaim
ing, with an air of regret:
"Is It really ten o'clock How the even
ing has flown! I did not think it could
be more than nine. 1 Did you, Tom?"
"No," answered Sir Thomas, heartily,
only too anxious to luuke up for her lady
ship's visible coldness. "Time flies, you
know, Aggie, when It's spent pleasantly."
"It does Indeed," responded Agnes. "I
must go home. Of course, Tom, you are
tired after your Journey, and I must not
be selfish enough to take you out to
night." But Tom swore he was as fresh as a
daisy, and that he should like nothing
better than to stretch his legs a bit
Then Agnes debited a bird-like kiss
on June's cheek, which made that fair
lady grind her teeth with disgust and
repugnance, and the pair set off gayly to
gether. (To be continued.)
Sir Isnac Newton's house In St. Mar
tin's street, London, which Mncnulny
said would forever be an object of ven
eration, U threatened with demolition.
MONGOL'S LAST HIDE.
BEARERS CONVEY HIS BODY AT
FULL GALLOP.
Strars-e and Almost Shocking Hite
Practiced Among the Inhabitants of
the Mongolian Steppe Other Pecul
iar Customs of an Oriental People.
The wild nomad tribes who range
over the vast country known as Mon
golia have been celebrated for their
horsemanship from the earliest days of
history, when they swept across Asia
aud down through Central Eurone.
leaving tracks never to be effaced. In
the mother country of the race, Tibet,
and lu the deserts of Mongolia, the
tribes of wild horsemen have altered
very little with the march of the cen
turies, but of late years they have beeu
reduced to a certain degree of order,
and, lacking the outlet formerly provid
ed for their superfluous energies by
wars and inter-tribal raids, they are
likely to lose much of their old spirit
and characteristic customs.
The hereditary aristocracy play a
great part in Mongolian life, and even
among the wildest nomad tribes
"princes" and "dukes" are quite com
mon. The "princes," It mny be noted,
have for some time past been little
more than the pensioners of the suze
rain, Chlnn, receiving a small yearly
revenue, In return for which they are
bouud to furnish military service ' If
called upon. Beyond the possession of
a more numerous flock) liner sheepskin
coats nnd a larger tent, it is difficult to
see what privileges are conferred by
rank. The expression, "a beggar on
horseback" to denote a ludicrous or
Incongruous eight would, have no
meaning In Mongolia, for prince and
beggar alike ride everywhere.
The summer time, when the cattle are
out grazing, Is spent In riding from tent
HIS LAST RIDE; THE
to tent, drinking tea and gossiping, and
It Is only in the autumn and winter,
when the camels have to be employed
for transport service, that the Mongol
does any hard work. Every Mongol is
a born horseman, and he herds his
flocks of sheep, goats and camels on
horseback, being able, it Is said, to keep
his seat even when Intoxicated, as be is
not infrequently. Horse racing is an ex
tremely popular amusement, the num
ber of entries for each race being enor
mous, and a kind of polo is played In
which the place of the ball is taken by
a fat sheep, held in the arms of one of
the players, from which the others try
to snatch it
There is, In fact, no circumstance of
Mongol life in which horsemanship
does not play a part. Courtship and mar
riage take place on horseback, a simu
lated chase and abduction of the bride
constituting the ceremony of the latter,
while even In the last scene of life's
drama the "ruling passion strong In
death" is frequently shown In the fun
eral obsequies. As a rule, the Chinese
burial rites are followed In the case of
the chief lamas and princes, who,
placed in coffins, are burled in tombs
on the steppes, before which the de
scendants of the deceased have to wor
ship as prescribed by custom. The
poorest people, and even the lower or
der of lamas, are, however, merely
taken out some little distance from the
village or encampment, and thrown in
some small ravine, to become the prey
of wild beasts or dogs ra custom com
mon throughout both Mongolia and
Tibet. The bodies of chief lamas are
usually burnt, and the ashes covered
by small mounds or cairns known as
"nobos" or "obos," a custom partly due
to the Shamanlstlc practice of making
sacred heaps or calms, to which it is an
act of piety to add a stone.
The method of burial most congenial
to the wild free soul of the Mongol Is,
however, that which Is so repugnant
to our Western Ideas, and yet there Is
something weirdly characteristic about
the scene. The dead man, wrapped In
his blanket, is taken from his "pourta,"
or felt tent, In the still hours of the
night, when the cold air blows keenly
across the bleak, open steppes. Four
companions mounted on their rough,
wiry Uttle ponies bear him up, and at a
mad, wild gallop the little band sweeps
across the plain' towards some distant
hills. Frequently the lean prairie dogs
of the village follow the funeral cor
tege, and a black cloud . of ravens,
"known to the people as the "Mongol's
sepulchres," hangs round the hills.
Once at the appointed place there Is
little more to do; a last farewell to their
comrade, and the little band is In the
saddle again, speeding back to the clus
ter of tents, or rudely built town, at
full gallop, with only a stoical regret
for the stiff, stark figure out there on
the hills, with glassy eyes staring up to
the star-spangled sky. Each man knows
thnt the time will come when he, too,
must take this terrible last ride, but
with Oriental philosophy he says, "If
God wills It, what can we do?"
1
WHY HE SMOKED.
Robinson's J'teaaon Seemed to Need a
Good Dial of Bolstering JJp,
"Robl-ison. I never saw yo,u smoking
a cigar before," said, a Chicago man to
nn acquaintance whom h'had met in
the street Robinson looiwd a trifle con
fused, bttt pieeeded tpT give his reason
for using toU,"-". Hls explanation sug
gests very plaim-ft'lie French proverb,
which is, in English, "He who excuses
himself accuses himself."
"I got into the habit In a curious
way," he said. "I used to smoke once
or twice a year. One day while I had
a cigar In my mouth, I accidentally
scratched a small wart on my hand
my hands were covered with them
nnd some of the ashes got into the
scratch. In a few days the wart went
away. That seemed nn easy way to
cure them, and I tried tt again on an
other wart. That one also went away.
So I kept at it.
"Every few days I would smoke an
other cigar, scratch another wart, rub
the ashes on the place, and in due time
it would go away. . I don't say the plan
will work with everybody, but it did
with me. That's how "
"But when they were all gone, why
didn't you Oh, I see. (J?u still have
some to remove. Why aon't you treat
all of them at once?"
"Well, that would be more or less
FUNERAL OF A MONGOL.
trouble. Besides, It might be pain
ful." "Then why not save up the ashes from
one cigar and use them as you need
them?"
"I have an Idea that perhaps they
ought to be used while they are fresh."
"I see. Then why not get the fresh
ashes from some friend who is smok
ing?" "Why, that er well, you see, I
can't be sure that my friends use the
same kind of cigars that 1 use, and I
don't know whether the ashes from
other cigars would work as well. Sor
ry to hurry away, but I er I'm In
a little bit of a hurry to catch a train
Just now." Youth's Companion.
His Notion of the West.
"This surely is a great country, since
we have arrived at the point J that
geograhplcal terms no longer convey
utoy adequate idea of location," remark
ed W. S. Crouch of Tacoma, Wash., at
the Raleigh.
"The other night, shortly after ar
riving here, I got Into an accidental
tulk with a gentleman who chanced to
be my vis-a-vis at dinner. He was a
stranger, and as I was in the same cat
egory it was pleasant to have someone
to chat with. Moreover, he was evi
dently a gentleman of standing and re
spectability and looked like a man of
good Intelligence. He was well dress
ed and his whole aspect betokened pros
perity. file found out that I hailed from the
West and the Information pleased him.
'I like Western people Immensely,' he
said. 'They are not so ceremonious and
so hard to get acquainted with as those
who live In the East. I am a Western
er myself and am tickled mightily to
meet you. Come here, waiter, and take
the gentleman's order.' As I was say
ing, being from the West myself, It is
a real comfort to run across you.'
"'And may I ask where your home
Is?'
'"My home, sir, Is Pittsburg, Pa.,
I am proud to live in such a great and
enterprising city," Later on, when I
told him that I hailed from the town of
Tacoma, he asked me If I was in
Washington Territory, and seemed sur
prised when I told him Washington had
been a State for the last thirteen years."
Washington Tost
Large Area la Irrigated.
The irrigated area of the United
States Is 7,510,r08 acres, of which Col
orado colntalns 1,011,271 and Califor
nia 1,440,110.
J
!jv