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.