Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1900-1909, November 24, 1903, Image 1

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    VOL
GAZETTE
SEMI-WEEKLY.
Know
flJLVl'J.. (CcnMllfotet FeS., 1829.
COBVAIililS, BENTON COUNTY, OREGON, TUESDAY, NOYEMBER 24, 1903.
VOL. IV. NO. 31.
I The Contrabandist; I j
8 Dne Life's Secret ! fell
CHAPTER XIII.
It was evening. In the lofty and richly
furnished library of the marquis, the sil
ver lamps burned with a soft, subdued
glow, blending their moonlight radiance
with the deeper and warmer tinge cast by
a blazing wood fire upon the broad hearth
over the magnificent apartment, with its
Hark, massive, antique furniture, its
broad, , high walls, lined with costly and
substantial volumes, the crimson draper
ies of its deep windows, and the polished
oaken floor that shone and reflected back
' the mellow warmth in rippling lines of
light.
Beside a table of curiously carven oak,
which is strewn with rare and ancient
volumes and the writing implements of
the marquis, aud which occupies the cen
ter of the floor, sits Rose. She is lean-
ing forward upon this table, her face hid
den in her folded arms those fair, sculp
tured ' arms whose snowy whiteness
gleams rarely through the veil of falling
tresses. Her graceful form is attired in
a robe of shining fabric, its pearl-hued
folds sweeping the floor about her and
shining, glittering softly in the mellow
light shed all around her. She does not
mover she is silent motionless; she hard
ly seems to breathe even. ' So quiet is
she, as she reclines thus, with her face
concealed, that you might think her sleep
fag. , f v v. ., j . ; ; .
But Rose is not sleeping. S Her errand
. hither is. of too painful a nature for-that.
Alone, in this swelling silence, she waits;
j and listening for an approaching foot
step, the hour passes in deep and sorrow
ful reverie. For Rose has a duty, too
long deferred; to perform to-night, and
its consequences may be only, too, bitter
bitter to her, inasmuch as they affect
others. She does not fear the perform
ance' of this duty 'because she shrinks
from fulfilling her. trust from keeping
her plighted word; but she pictures to
herself the disappointment she may be
about to inflict on others.
A distant door uncloses, but so softly
in its casing of cloth that no sound fol
lows. It is a gentleman who enters; he
pauses a moment; his glance takes in the
beauty and subdued splendor of the scene
lefore him; but it is accustomed to that.
It rests upon the center of the" whole
tpon the bowed figure of the young girl
yonder by the table. A shadow, a blend
ing at once of sorrow and perplexity,
rests upon his fine brow. Then closing
the door, he advances, and stands beside
the tMig7r.tsy!y-JH
"Rose j" he calls, gently.... .
The young girl raised her head.
"Is it you, . Louis?" she asked, with an
air of sadness. "I, thought you were
. away.". '. .-' 'f
"I have remained at home, Rose. I
could not go. I wished to see you."
"You wished to see me, Louis? We
are in each other's presence every day.
To-night " 1
"Ay, to-night, Rose! To-night, you
would say, you have an interview with
my uncle, and cannot listen to me. I
knew of this interview; my uncle told
me; and,-forgive me, dear -Rose; but I
would prevent it!"
He spoke in a subdued, but agitated
voice. He seated himself beside her,
and Seaned, also, forward on the table,
with his hands elasing hers, as he Ut
tered these imploring words. -
"You would prevent it, Louis! why?
Would you bid me neglect the fulfilment
of a duty already too long delayed?"
"Ah, Rose, you are about to seal your
fate! Thing once more, I beseech yon;
there is time. Break this ideal bondage;
le silent, and forget the vows that are
no longer binding. . Do not bring this
great sorrow to my uncle, who loves you
so; do not break up this happy house
hold, which can be no more happy when
yon have sacrificed yourself when you
have left the hearth that is only bright
with your presence, to hide yourself in
obscurity" v . , ,
The tears were filling her sweet eyes;
a great cry was struggling for utterance
in her breast; but she silenced it with a
Lalf-despairing effort. She raised her
glance to his. i .:":.'-
"You are aware, then, - Louis, of the
object of this interview?" ; '.'
"Ah,- too well too well!' he answered;
"for I knew that it' must come, sooner
or later, since you adhere to the decision
you once made. But again I ask you
" lo not reveal this secret to my uncle.'
"It is not alone my promise to. Robin
which I regard, Louis." - ' '
"You would say that you love him
still, then?"
TheLtears fell from her eyes; a blush
stole to her, fair cheek; her head was
turned aside.
"Ah, no no! do not say it, Rose!" he
cried, sorrowfully.
"Louis Louis, this it not kind it is
not like you!" said the young girl, turn
ing to him again. "You know I cannot
break my promise. Do not add to the
-sorrow I already feel. I must see your
uncle; I must acknowledge my betrothal
to Robin." , .
-- "And render him unhappy, cut Helen
Montauban to the very heart, leave me
wretched miserable! Rose, listen to
me - '
"Louis, be silent, I entreat!" she ut
tered, withdrawing her hand from his,
while the crimson glow of consciousness
and timidity suffused her countenance;
"have pity on me!"
"Rose, one instant. Let me speak for
the last time. I love you; I would ask
you to be my wife! Nay do not start
and turn away from me. Hear me to the
.end. How can I bear to see you you,
- Rose, who should move among the high
est and the noblest of France, envied and
admired . by - all who should have at
-command the thousand luxuries for
which you were born who should oc
cupy, finally, a position and enjoy ad
vantages suited to your beauty,- your
grace, your refinement, your intellect
how can I bear to see you the wife of
a peasant? Ah, be merciful to me! be
Just to yourself; awake from this fatal
trance; for yon are dreaming, Rose." , -
He spoke 'with strange .energy, i His
tones thrilled through her; his glance
sought hers, waiting for an answer, with
an earnestness an anxiety that con
fused her. A feeling of faintness stole
over her; she put her hand to her brow;
all was strange bewilderment about her.
Still his eyes were fixed upon her; still
he watched eagerly. But over his lips
stole the palor of death;; his fine brow
grew cold and white as marble itself,
and on it stood the very -dew of agony.
"You yield, then?" he said, in a voice
choked with -emotion.
: "Yield!" She rose slowly from her
seat; she unclasped his fingers from hers
with despairing strength. "Ah, no! You
mistake! I love him; I will be true to
him."
Louis stood with one hand supporting
himself by the table, the other pressed
hard against his side, and his face avert
ed, so that she did not see its expression.
He did not speak; but the hand resting
upon the table was withdrawn in a mo
ment and it trembled.
"Louis, I have hurt wounded you;' I
have been too harsh! Will you not for
give me?" Rose said, gently, and in a
tone that quivered with agitation. She
drew near to him, and laid her hand im
ploringly upon his arm. "You can but
see that my promise must be kept, and it
pained me that you should urge me to
break it. Ah, it is sacred, Louis! help
me to keep it so." -
There was no reply. But he turned
towards her; he held out his arms; he
gathered , her to his breast and held her
there, while his lips were pressed calmly,
silently, tenderly to hers. Then releasing
her, Be went out from her presence. The
door closed behind him. A step is heard
without that of the marquis. :H $ '.-."
"Well, my Rose, you. are waiting for
me," he said, cheerily, as he approached
her; "and have been waiting some time,
I am afraid, too. What shall I say for
myself, eh?" and he seated himself be
side her. "But, what ails you, my child?"
he added, with evident concern; "you are
ill!" v',.- .;' :-1 ''J, J
"No no! I am not ill, sir; but I am un
happy," returned Rose, lifting her beau
tiful eyesj swimming with tears, to his
earnest face. ' - , ,
"Unhappy? you "are .young for that,
Rose. ' Some girlish whim it is, I'll war
rant me nothing more, and you are mak
ing yourself extremely miserable about
it." And he stroked her bright hair gent
ly, as he spoke these words in an enliv
ening tone. -;--, , '-'
"It is no whim, sir," answered Rose,
sadly. "I have been doing wrong all this
j-ttoBaa'heeoald proeeedT'no further
for her tears.
"Doing wrong, poor little mouse? and
to make a confession?" smiled the good
old man, kindly. "Why, Rose,-1 think,
then, that I must grant absolution, before
hand, and refuse to listen to your story.'
I won't hear any tales against my little
"Ah, monsieur, you treat it lightly! You
do not know how how " , .
:"Idon't know, I suppose you would
say, now serious an affair it is is that it,
little Rose, eh?"
"Yes, monsieur," answered the young
girl. V i ,. '.' . .f
"Exactly. ,Well, then, suppose I try
to guess?""
"You could not guess!-Monsieur, you
must read this." And she drew from her
pocket a letter, which she was about to
give him; but he put it away, ..smilingly,
with his hand.
"You will not allow me to guess, Rose?
then I will not look at your letter. I am
harder than stone, mybird. And, now.
Rose, don't interrupt me, for; as' I told"1
you, I mean to guess; and. I'll wager a
a wedding dress shall it bej petite?" '
' His good-natured, comical manner and
lively tone, together with a certain sig
nificance . which he threw into his last
words caused her first to smi!eand then
to blush, despite her sorrow and agita
tion. He waited an , instant, and then
went on: : .......
. ""What silence? then - you consent.
Rose? well, a wedding dress it shall be,
then. '. A I said, I will wager a weeding
dress, lace,, jewels and all.' - - '.
"I shall want neither lace nor jewels,
monsieur," said Rose, half sadly.
"Do not interrupt me,' my 'child!
-Against let V me see-against- a ' pair of
diamond buckles. . You see I mean to
make you pay ' well, Rose that I shall
guess rightly." -; ;'
;-"I do .not understand you, monsieur,"
said the young girl, wondering, perplexed
and diverted at hisjnanner. --t
"You don't? what a pity!" 'There was
mischief in his eyes,, that brought ..the
smile to hers. "What a pity!" he repeat
ed. "Well, at all events, I' will com
mence, and .probably by the time I shall
have finished, you will comprehend my
meaning more fully.4' In the first place,
then, there is a certain young girl you
see I mention no names, Rose--a certain
young girl, I say, who has a lover. .You
are listening, I presume, my child?"
"I am listening, monsieur."
" "Good! This young girl, then, is be
trothed. ' Very well; that is not at all to
be wondered at, as young girls very fre
quently find themselves in this'- position.
She is betrothed to a poor young man a
workman; we will say he is--a gardener.
Well, these two the girl and her lover
cannot marry -yet, because they are by
no means in suitable circumstances; for
she is quite as poor as he. Ah, they
must be content to wait!"
He paused, and regarded - her with a
curious smile. - She looked up, her eyes
sparkling with fresh-streaming tears.
"Ah, monsieur! you are telling me
my " - -y;:-
The good marquis kissed her.
"I am telling you about two people
whom I once knew, my child. I will pro
ceed. Our young gardener, we will say,
goes away; and the girl, who meets with
some slight change of circumstances dur
ing his absence, continues to remember
him. But for some reason, which is,
doubtless, in this case, an extremely nat
ural one, she neglects to inform a certain
friend,:, or friends, of hers, that she has
promised to marry this young man. For
this neglect she presently begins to re
proach herself. Now, listen again, Rose;"
and he grew quite serious; "if this young
girl if .you. Rose, had been really about
to bestow your hand upon a poor, low- j
born peasant, who had no desires, no a- '
pirations, above his condition; if you had .
become the bride of such a one, and for- j
saken us and our love and care for you,
after we have all -been so happy here to
gether, and cast away from you all that
belongs to you in your present position;
had suffered that finer mind, those quick
sensibilities, that loftier, that more ele-.
vated and refined nature, to mate with"
the coarse, gross, blunt composition of a
mere tiller of the soil, a rude, uncultivat
ed. peasant, then, my child, I confess- that.
it would have been a bitter, bitter thing
to me. It would have been the hardest
blow this heart has borne for - many a
long year. Rose!" And his voice grew
husky, and faltered, and the tears, de
spite his manhood, gathered in his eyes. I
HI 1 . . i; 91 I
nave arnea 10 .ove yo.w T i
he said, "with a father s affection. I had
iitti PhiM'nnM. 'rim.. tw1 t it hr.
You seem to bring to my mind -what she
would'have been: you grow more like
that ideal daily hourly? You have taken
her place in my heart; you are dar to
me. Rose, as she would have been!"
He clasped her tenderly to him; and
f "u"s 111081 uwsyv wuwwu j
k". manaer' yi B"e""y uir
"But, my child," he continued, when he
had become calmer, "it was no clown
whom you promised to wed. You have
been always sensible of that."
"Oh, yes, monsieur!" she responded,
raising her head and speaking earnestly
seriously. "Robin was different from
those about him. He was better more
.! tt "
off in the midst of her words, blushing xo relurn
and confused at her own animation.
"Nay, my child, you need have no1
shame," said the marquis, kindly; this
young man was, indeed, something more
than those whom one is accustomed to
meet in that class to which he was allied.
I 'confess that your ' preference for him
. jtj 4.4. 11
is no mystery to me, and I do not at all
disapprove of it."
"Ah. how cood vou are. monsieur!"
uttered the young girl, gratefully, as
she pressed his hand to her lips.
- "It is no merit to me, Rose, that my
own honest convictions force me to ac-
knowledge his superiority, and the good
sense you have displayed in your choice
And now," he added, while the old
laughing glance shone in his eyes, "I dare
say you are dying with curiosity to know
how I came into possession of all this
knowledge."
"Indeed, sir, 'it is a matter of curiosity
to me, she answered, frankly.
What, then, w;.i you say, if 1 assure
you that Robin himself told to me the
greater part of it all, and that I divined
only-a very little biteh, Rose?" he ask -
ej
"Robin, sir? ah, then you have seen
him!" said Rose, with hardly suppressed
joy.
'I have seen him, my child.'
"And lately V
'Quite lately," he returned, pleased and
light. -
"May I ask when it was, monsieur?'
sItaeenlaTraly ITBaWTieeO
him as . lately as to-day."
"To-day? ah, then, he is very near!"
she said, in a subdued yet joyful tone,
and with her eyes bent to the floor, as
in meditation. Suddenly raising them,
she asked: "Where was it, monsieur r
urn.- ,, , u 1
.loo many questions, xvose laugueo
must keep his whereabouts a matter of
secrecy for a short time.
"Ah, mon.sieur!" said Rose, gently, and
with a pretty air of deprecation.
"Indeed, my dear child, it will do you
no harm. Wait till to-morrow, only to
morrow, and I will tell you where he is;
nay, more you shall see him. You will
grant me until then?"
"Willingly."
"Now you can easily tell how I guessed
at the object of your errand thither to
night." "
"Since- Robin told you all about this,"
she said, with a slight . and charming
blush, "you must have had little difficulty
in divining v my purpose, when, at your
questioning this morning, I acknowledged
tnat it was to say to you sometning im-
desired to meet you here.
Exactly, Rose," said
the marquis,
gaily. . "Well, my darling, we have made
our confessions have we not? and they
were not such terrible confessions, aftei
all. Robin, I honestly declare to you, I
like, and am proud of. I have invited
him here to-morrow. But, Kose, and he
took herhand in his. "you must not ex-
pect to behold the linen blouse and ser-
viceable garments in which you were
nrnhnhiv wont to se him ' Rohin i na
longer a gardener.- and, therefore, you
must anticipate quite an alteration in his
personal appearance.
"How? no longer a gardener, mon
sieur?" iterated Rose, in some surprise.
"No longer, my child; he was offered
an employment of an entirely different
character, which he immediately accept
ed; it was much more congenial to his tal
ents and capabilities,, as well as to his
tastes and desires. He is fast rising in
the world, Rose;" and the good marquis
smiled. "Ah, he will be a great man,
some day! You would scarcely recogniza
him how, I'll warrant Why, child, thii
rustic lover of yours is as great a, gen
tleman as there is in France this . day.
The throne itself smiles upon him!"
"He said so,". said Rose, musingly
"he said so did he not? that he should
rise: to honor ..and preferments and
wealth? Yet how little I imagined that
it would be so soon!" .
"Well, you see, I have T won my dia
monds, Rose," he said, laughingly. "You
shall give' them to me on -your wedding
day. And now, my darling, let us join
our friends. They will be waiting fol
:, And Rose went with him, almost in a
state of bewilderment, knowing that she
had not said half she1 wished to say, yet
nnable to recall it, or to think anything
but this sudden revelation of " the mar
quis. ,
(To be continued.) "
A Legal Expectation.
An Illinois attorney argued to the
court one after another of a series of
very weak points, none of which
seemed to the court to have any merit,
until the court finally said:
"Mr, : , do you think there is any
thing in these points?"
, To which the attorney replied: "Well,
Judge, perhaps there isn't much In any
one of them alone, but I didn't know
ut your Honor would kind of bunch
them." Case and Comment. -
Conduct is three-fourths of life. Mat
thew Arnold.
I Calloused Feet-Never pare the cal
, . ,
loa8ed OI tender feet except un
der absolutely necessary conditions be-
cause irequent paring manes it rorm
faster. Such spots represent an effort
of nature to overcome the dangerous
effect of lone mntinnwl nrpssnre
Those who stand for many hours daily
, are prone to this condition. When
the calloused spot needs removal ap
Ply the following to the thickened
parts for five nights: Salicylic acid
1 drams, sulphuric ether two drams,
I tincture of Indian hemp two drams.
flexible collodion fifteen drams, mix.
on the sixth night soak the feet in
hot water and the callous will come
nfe A j 1 . m,-
off- Avoid pressure and it Is not like-
Wounds. Three useful things to
have In the home as a provision in
: case of wounds not sufficiently seri-
0us ,to necessitate the calling in of a
medical attendant, are a spool of ad-
t,ol . .
hesive plaster, some Iodoform gauze
. , . , . .
and a PackaSe of carbolated absorb-
ent cotton. Cleanse? and dry the cut
surface as well as possible with a wad
j of the cotton, using moderate pressure
and elevating the part if necessary to
check the flow of blood. Do not ap-
ply any water. Bring the cut sur-
face(J together and retain
... . ,
th as few and as yarrow strips of
a win suuice, cutting mem
In S00& length. Then cover the wound
I with a dozen or so thicknesses of the
iodoform gauze which should extend
an inch at least beyond the wound.
over the gauze apply a liberal layer
of the absorbent cotto allowing it to
, . . , 6 u
, extend ond the gauze. The cotton
may be kept in place by a bandage of
cheese-cloth or when suitable a part
of the leg of a stocking may be drawn
i over it. Moderate pressure, if evenly
distributed is helpful. The pressure
of a string is hurtful. Keep the part
TnftrtPraiv rito na tot ,
there is no constriction of the limb
above the wound by i garter or other-
FAIR OHIO BARRISTER.
Descendant of a Famona British Judge
Now Practices Lair,
."On motion" Miss Gabrielle Town-
eonrt Rtflwart riovolnnil C hoi Wn
, .
admItted to the New York bar. She
had already made
her mark at the
Ohio bar.
Lord Mansfield,
Lord Chief Jus
tice of England,
was ' her ; great
grandfather, so
she comes to her
legal talent quite
naturally. She has
decided to under
take metropolitan
MISS BTEWABT
practice,
MIsb Stewart' is rated one of Ohio's
Dfettiest girls,, and was a society., belle
before ghe thought of studying law. In
nar butterfly days she satisfied her en
jergetic disposition by engaging in so-
t ciological work. On one occasion there
wa a big banquet for newsboys. Miss
Stewart was on nana, ana aeciaea mat
some of the boys might like apples,
So. like Lady Bountiful, she - went
among them with an apronful of rosy
cheeked pippins. ' "Who -wants a nice
apple? she asked, in her most sil-
. . . .,
toncs- " took several policemen
and some of the older boys to rescue
her from the scrambling mob of
newsies. The experience was discour-
aging, but she stuck to her work for
some time afterward.
No Need to Rise. ,
In one of Glasgow's finely laid out
cemeteries a rich citizen, who . was
notorious as a skeptic, had erected a
maasire mausoleum on what he termed
i"1 ancestral plot, t;;
One." day he met a worthy elder of
the kirk coming away from the vicin
ity of the imposing mass of masonry,
bo he said to him:- .,,.
- "Weel, Dauvit, ye've been up seem
that gran' 'erection o' mine?"
"Deed, MV I, sir?" ' -"Gey
strong place that, isn't It? I'll
tak' a man a' his time tae rise oot o'
yon at the day o' judgment."
"Hoots,--ina mon," said David, "ye
can gle yersel little fash aboot risin'
gin that day comes. They'll tak' the
bottom oot o't taes let ye fa' down."
London Spare Moments. ,
Good News by W holesale.
; A postal card sent from Biliville to
one of the absent brethren reads: - "
"Dear Jim Nuthin' but good news
to tell you. Your crap paid off the
mortgage, .your brother broke out o'
JaiL an' your daddy has jest got $1,000
out of the railroad fer runnin' over b!s
leg. Ain't. Providence providin'.'" At
lanta Constitution.
British Postal Deficit.
The deficit on account of the British
postal telegraph is $4,500,000 for the
year. '';'-' j
' After following the faces a little
while a man gets so far behind, that
be is seldom able to catch up.
Nothing surprises the (woman . who
marries a man to reform; him like the
success of her efforts.
WHEN THANKSQIVIN. COMES.
Ooln to hare a Joyful day
Bout next Thursday down our wayf
Relatives 'II all be here
Comln' now fr'm far an near.
Oot a turkey home, I'll bet
Is the biggest we've had yet; .
Always lots to eat, I've found
When Thanksgivln" comes around.
Pa. he'll carve the noble bird,
Tellln' all the Jokes he's heard;
Ma, she'll keep things movln' right,
Everyone'll talk a sight
All exceptin' Bill an me :
We'll be still as still can be.
Won't have time to make a sound
When Thanksglrin comes around.
Golly! but It's bully, though,
Havin' relatives, you know.
Ma est smiles when Bill and I
Take a second piece of pie;
Pa, he'll only laugh and roar
When we pass our plates fer more;
Never's scolded us ner frowned
When Thanksgivln' comes around.
Uncle Jim ses me an' Bill
'8 Jest about ex hard to fill
T.x two elephants, but Gee!
If they'll only let us be
We won't care fer what they say.
But Jest grin an eat away.
We'll be full clear fr'm the ground
When Thanksgivln' cornea around.
Council Bluffs Nonpareil.
A THANKFUL
THANKSGIVING
DON'T feel as if I should enjoy this
If Thanksizivin." said Mrs. Joel Nis-
bett, looking down into the basket of
gloesy, red cheeked Spitzenbergs as it
wero a family vault ana laniug up au
apple as if it had been a skull; "no, I
don't."
"Then. SareDta," .observed ; her hue
band, who had just thrown a huge log
on the open fire, "you don't disarn noth-
in' to be thankful for! It's as harnsome
a turkey as ever flapped, and I don't
know of a year when I've had nicer
pumpkins on that ar- corn lot!"
" 'Tain't turkey or pumpkin pies or
cranberry sass as makes Thanksgivin',"
sighed Mrs. Nisbett.
"What is it. then t Kf it a cold weatn-
eiv I should ha' thought the last frost
would ha' done the business ior you
nrettv f airlv. Them artemisias by the
front door in scorched black, and the old
maple is losin' its leaves as if they was
rainin down. Parson Jarvis k comdn
all the Jff ai from lpatesville. to preach
to-morrow, and thequire'sarned "a Tran'
new ' anthem Juet a-purpose, about bein
thankful for harvest and all that sort of
tiling. I'm sure I don't know what else
you'd have."
Mrs. Nisbett only answered Dy a sign.
"I wonder if 'tain't possible Stephe'll
be hum to-night," the said after a pause.
"He writ not. He thought he d drop
in arly to-morrow mornin' if he caught
the train he expected. Only think, old
woman; it's five years since Stephe was
hum to Thanksgivin' r
Old Nisbett rubbed his horny hands,
with a chuckle, adding:
j "And' I s'pose, if all accounts is true,
he's gettin' to be a great man out in
that western country.. It was kind of a
hard Dull when he went off and left us,
but maybe the boy was in the right."
"Yes." said Mrs. Nisbett dolorously.
"but somehow I can't get reconciled to
the idea of hia marry in' a strange gal
out there."
Joel scratched his head. This was a
ahase of the , subject that he scarcely
felt competent to discuss..
"Maybe you'll like her..; Stephen says
he's a nice gal."
"Stephen Bays! As if a man over head
and ears in love wouldn t say anything.
"I wish he'd told us who she was."
Mrs. Nisbett groaned again. Joel went
out to the woodpile, the everyday shrine
whence he generally derived what little
of philosophic inspiration he had.
"Mrs. Nisbett!" .
It was . a soft little voice, and the old
lady's face relaxed instinctively as it
sounded on her ears. - -
"Why, Lida Tremaihe 'tain't you!"
"It is. I've done everything that Aunt
Constance wanted, and now I've just run
over to see if you don't . need a bit of
help." ' ' . . . ;
She stood in the doorway, a fair nttie
apparition, all, flushed and rosy with the
November wind, while , her blue eyes
sDarkled as if they were, twin sapphires
hidden aWay under her long, dark lashes.
She was neither blond nor brunette, but
a fresh cheeked girl, with nut brown
hair, skin like the leaf of ; a damask rose,
a straight, refined nose and Itps as ripe
as a red crabapple, fchohgh by no means
so sour. Generally she had a demure
sort of gravity lingering about her face,
but when she did laugh a dimple came
ut upon her cheek and .a row of pearly
teeth glimmered instantaneously.
In one hand she carried a bunch of
late autumn flowers.
"See!" ahe cried, holding them up. "I
ransacked Aunt Constance's garden for
these.. I knew that big vase on the man
tel needed something, and, with a branch
so of scarlet leaves, 1 11 have a "royal
bouquet to help you keep Thanksgiving."
Mrs. Nisbett took the fair oval face
between her two hands and kissed the
fresh little mouth. - -
'Set,' down,' Lida," she said. -"I wasn't
a-calculatin' to have, no sech fixin's up,
but you've , eech a way,-child, I can't
never say no to you." . - .
'But you're going to keep Thanksgiv
ing," cried Lida, throwing off her outer
wrappings and dancing up to the looking
glass like a little gale of wind, "because
you invited Aunt Constance and me to
dinner and because your, eon is coming,
home." '"..- -
'Yes. child, yes." said . Mrs. Nisbett.
subsiding once more into the mournful
key from which Lida's sudden appear
ance had momentarily , aroused her.
'Joel's got the turkey shut Up In a coop.
and the bakin's done, and I'm just a-fix-in'
them apples, and ' ; '
"Oh, oh,", cried Lida, who had flut
tered to the window "What glorious red
leaves speckled over with little drops of
gold! May I make some wreath for the
wall? Oh, please say yes" .'"
Mrs. Nisbett said "yea" it would have .
been hard work to say "no" to Lida-
and the girl soon came in, her apron full
of the sprigs of the old maple tree,
whose shadowy boughs kept the window
veiled with cool shadows through the
glaring summer days and showered fad
ing gold upon the dead grass when the
autumn came.
Mrs. Nisbett looked with tenderness
upon the graceful little figure seated on
the hearth rug, when the shine of the
high heaped logs lost itself in her bright
hair and made sparkles in her eyes, as
the wreathe and trails of autumn leaves
grew rapidly beneath her deft fingers.
"L.ida," she said softly, "Lida, my
dear!" Lida looked up.
. "I saw your Aunt Constance yesterday
but there's somethin' reserved about her,
and I didn't like to ask about you
whether you had decided to go out as a
governess or not; because, my dear, Joel
and I were talkin' last night, and we
both thought what a comfort it would be
to have you here."
"To have me here?" -
"We're old and we're alone, and some
how we've both took a fancy to you, my
child. So when your Aunt Constance
goes back to the city, if you choose to
come here
Mrs. Nisbett paused abruptly and buret
Into tears. V
"We had a little girl once, my dear,
and If she'd lived she would ha' been
nigh about your age."
Lida iet the leaves drop down on the
floor as she sprang up and threw both
arms round the old woman's neck.
"Oh, Mrs. Nisbett," she whispered
softly, "you are eo very, very kind. Be
lieve me, I appreciate it alL but but
I hardly know how to tell you."
Mrs. Nisbett listened intently. Lida
smiled and cried a little and then whis
pered so low it was scarcely audible.
"I am going to be married."
"Married!" ejaculated Mrs. Nisbett,
with; all a woman's interest in this im
portant piece of information. "And who
to?" v -.''
"Your son lives in Iowa in Parting
ton?" '
"Yes."
"Well, did he ever mention tihe name
of " -
-Lida paused, her cheeks glowing
roses. Old Nisbett had come in with an
armful of wood, bringing a gale with him
from the frosty outer world.
"I'll tell you by and by," whispered
Lida as she went back to her work.
".Toel'U go out again arter awhile,"
thought Mrs. Nisbett, "and then I'll hear
about. .J.,-.
But Joel sat down before the fire with
a complacent satisfaction which boded
ill for the gratification of his wife's curi
osity, and finally accompanied Lida home,
thus : frustrating all hia wife s designs
and cutting off her chanee of hearing
Lida's story.
'Dear me!" thought she. "I don't be
lieve the man was ever born who know-
ed when he wasn't wanted! How lone
some it seems when Lida's gone! What
does - the girl want to get married for
when .1 could ha' took such a sight o
comfort with her? Oh, dear, dear! It
does seem as if the world was all
askew!"
The next day, in spite of the weather
prophet's prediction of snow, dawned
clear, and brilliant as the dying smile of
Indian summer. By 11 o'clock Mrs. Nis
bett was dressed in her best silk and
cap, with the turkey browning beauti
fully iu the oven and the cranberry tarts
doing credit to themselves as well as to
their maker, the table set, the fire high
heaped, with crackling logs and the plates
dressed with coronals of autumn leaves.
Aunt Constance, . a tall, prim maiden
lady of uncertain age, stood before the
bedroom looking glass arranging her coif
fure. Lida, in a blue drees with a late
autumn rose in her .hah, was tripping
hither and thither as light footed and
helpful as half a dozen household - fairies
merged into one, ' while Mrs. Nisbett
stood regarding her with a loving eye,
murmuring to herself: ; ,
"Well, well, it 'seems like it was the
Lord's will to deny us of just what we
most want, but . if L had a daughter I
could wish she was like Lida."
As the old kitchen clock struck 1 Mrs'
Nisbett, looking from the window, gave
a little cry. . : j
."There he comes there comes ..Joel
and, as I live, there's the boy with him!"
Lida ran into the bedroom. : . ,
v When she returned, Mrs. Nisbett was
clasped In the arms of a tall, handsm
man of four or five and twenty.
"lida." said the proud matron, staiv
ing to disengage herself from the affec
tionate clasp, "this is my son Stepkea,
and why, what's the matter?"
For Stephen had dropped her haads
with an exclamation of surprise and
amazement, and Lida stood there glowing
crimson.
"Lida! Why, mother, this, Is a sur
prise indeed that you have prepared for
me!"
"I prepared!" echoed the astonished
ojd lady. "Well, that's a good un, wfcea
I'm ten times as much surprised as yo
be! Lida, what does this mean?"
"It means," said Lida, with a demece
smile she was. beginning to recover hei
scattered self-possession "it means that
this is the gentleman I am to be married
to!" ; .
"Stephen!" cried Mrs. Nisbett, "is Lida
to be your wife?"
"She has given me her promise to hVat
effect, at least," said Stephen, looking
proudly, down . upon his lovely Utth
fiancee.
"Well, if it don't beat all how queer
things do happen!" said Mrs. Nisbett,
her face radiant. "And you've been Bv
in" neighbor to me' these six weeks and
I never knowed it Lida, why dida't
you tell me?" ; .
"Because I never dreamed that Ste
phen Risingham, my betrothed western
lover, was anything to Mrs. Nisbett." .
said Lida, laughing.
'There 'tis, now!" ejaculated the farm
er. "How was she to know that he was
only my nephew, adopted when his par
ents died, twenty good years ago? We've
always called him son, and he's always
been a son to us. But Lida didn't know.
Old woman, what do you say to Ste
phen's wife?" -
Mrs. Nisbett clasped Lida to her
heart." 1
"I do say," she ejaculated, "this is tfc
thankfullest Thanksgivin' I ever lived to
see!" New York Dally News.
On Thanksgiving Week.
The Leader of the Runaways Dsa'C
be alarmed, my dears; it's nothing bat
a vegetarian hunting for edible fungi.
Thanksgiving Day.
Our pilgrim fathers left us a good ex
ample when they set aside a day in
which to devote our ' thoughts to count
ing up the blessings of the year not oaiy
to outside causes of prosperity, such as
the abundance of our crops, the good
fruit year, peace and plenty everywhere,
but we should count our personal bless-,
ings, "one by one;" even in those where
sorrow and trouble are ever present tie
blessings; would . outnumber the afflic
tions. - ... , . - '.
. Is it not something to see the blue sky
and the green fields, to hear the joyousr
song of the birds, to have the use of our
limbs, and, better far, a clear brain and
an active mind? Let us keep our hearts
tuned to praise and thanksgiving, Shea
we will bring smiles to other faces that ,
seldom smile. These are little things,
life is made up of little things.
Soliloquy of a Turkey.
I know that Thanksgiving day's most here.
And It makes me long to fly.
For I've reached my prime, and it's mights
: clear ;
That..it's time for me to die.
I saw the head of the honse come out.
And he smiled as he gazed at me.
And he cried aloud that there was ns
-doubt '
What a comfortable meal I'd be.
Qht I've got to go! And It gives me a nt.
Thought it isn't so much for my life
That I care about, but he can't carve a Wt,
And I've got to be hacked by his wife.
ii 1., , New York Herald.