WEN MELINDY TOl ME YES,
Jent tw wwHks troiii my till Tall out wltii my
firm BWiiKi hwitri, 'Lnclinty,
Dili Mullmiy. my Mullmty. lull iiih "Ym;v
Ap' the titimw!iari? wna wliuly 'way from
Pukitmvlllt to Imly.
WtiKly with tiiu brntwy mmv of etflrrim
ll(!P()ll tlHHB,
An' Bhomihl It ftiir an' Hijuttrely. an' nm "Cai
attain" or "May Im."
Ao'n New .icniHuhtm jtlnry lit the (tol an
wfliUtniBMH j
Aa1 the nun hum. out like laughter on the
round fm of a halty,
Weu Mulimly, my Mullmly, tol' me "Yeal"
Liken twenty million oruhestra away buyout!
all ominflii",
The IwhMliikrt Imhbletl over In am uh to water
fall, .
An' I folt Jent Hkb a-mouiittn' on the meet In
lioime an' uhoutln'
That Huratlitw wan open, with aclmliwlon free
loall.
JCach tfrtWH blade In the mmliler wug n HtrtiiK
to Natur'n fUltlli,
Thot wan played on by thuwjphyrn wltb a vol-"
voty earns;
An' ol' Nutur's Jlntn were Umbered, an' the
sashayed down the middle,
Weu Moll nd y, my Molhitiy, tol' mo "Yeal"
An' tbe angiilH played to bully thot tbe tuunle
reached tin; gateway
An catim aiillllit' through tbe op'nln, and
a-sliigln' down to uarth-
Oftme a-aliighr mtuh a great way tbet the uni
verse Wilis Htratuhtway
Shoti tin' In the glad redem'tlon of a boty
etson' birth;
An' I I net a-st raddle on tbe ridice pole of cre
ation, An only Itt to holler in my bootlu' bappi
nene, Wen Mullndy, uiy Melludy. filled my heart
'lib Jtihllatloii,
Weu Melludy, my Mellndy, tol1 m Tee!"
-Yankee Blade.
UNDER A CLOUD.
i am Agnes Grey; or at least that was
my name when one bright summer day.
the sky as blue as though there never
could be anuther cloud in it, I came home
across the HeldB from Nellie fiobart's
wedding. Very sweet bIid looked in her
bridal drew, and very fond the gentle
man to whom she had given her hand
seemed to be of her. The church was
decked with Mowers, and not one of
those whosat there but wished the pretty
young creature well; and as she stepjied
out from the shadow of the painted
windows into the clear, golden, out of
door light 1 thought of the old rhyme
Happy Is lliu Iiriile
WllOUl LhU HlHI HlllllHH Oft.
And thought that she looked like one of
those fair saints the old musters were so
fond of painting, blue eyed and blond,
and with .mouths like those of smiling
babies.
i thought of something else, also, as I
suppose every girl who bad been to that
wedding did, could one but know the
truth. I wondered whether it would
ever be my turu to stand where Nellie
stood that day, and what manner of man
my bridegroom would be; for 1 hud never
yet seen any one I could fancy giving
myself to, almost budy and Boul, as a
wife must, I was making a picture of
him for myself, like a goose, when my
foot caught in the grass, where some
boys had tied it, and down 1 fell, twist
ing my ankle and hurting my head.-so
that fur awhile 1 knew nothing.
At last 1 folt some one lift ine off the
ground, and opened my eyes to see that
it was a great, swarthy, blaok eyed girl
of seventeen or so a girl with a carelesB
look about hor dress which was not lady
like. But she had the voice and manner
of a lady, and she asked me very kindly
if 1 were much hurt; and, seeing that I
was, picked me up in her strung arms
and carried me through a garden gate
and into a little parlor, where she laid
me on a sofa and bathed my head with
rose water and told me to keep up my
courage, for "Gideon has gone for a doc
tor." That name told me where 1 was. I
was under a roof that I had never
thought would shelter me, no matter
what would come to pass. 1 would have
risen and gone away if 1 could have
atirred from the odd old sofa. For this
was Gideon bee's old homestead, and
here dwelt the children of the man who.
sixteen years before, had been hung for
the murder of uiy Uncle Mathew.
1 was but a baby when it ull happened,
butl could remember how the whole
Tillage was astir in search of the miss
ing man, and how a body was found at
last in the heart of Aloott's woods, and
how the facts that there had been a
quarrel betweeu Gideon Lee and Uncle
Mathew, and that Gideon Lee owed the
latter money, and how they were last
seen together quarreling in Gideon's
garden, where a bloody handkerchief,
marked "M. U.," was found soon after
and brought Gideon to the gallows.
Perhaps heaving the story afterward
from my grandfather made me fancy 1
remembered it, but at all events the
name 1 had learned to hate was that of
Gideon Lee. And now it was the child
born on the day of her mother's death
the very day on which the father met
his awful fate who lifted me from the
ground, dusky Madge Lee, who had
sever found a playmate nor a friend in
the town because of the ban upon her
father's name, and Gideon, the son, who
had been old enough to understand it
all at the time, who came in with old
Sr. Humphries soon after.
They were not poor people. The house
was a substantial one, and there were
more books and pictures and tokens of
refinement within than country homes
generally boast of. But even the farm
hands Bpoke contemptuously of the "son
of the man who was hung," and the serv
ants who were hired by Madge Lee
were not natives of the place.
And here was 1, Mathew Grey's own
niece, lying under the roof, and likely to
bejhere for some tune, for the doctor
forbade my removal. j
"1 must go liuiHn I must go awuv
from thin housel" I said, angrily and ,
feverishly. : ,
And Madge Le looking down on me ,
as an Indian priucesa wipit, with her
dark eyes aglow, mud, In a ultter voice.
"Never fear, Minn Grey, - I not mur
der youl" and somehow cashed me.
haughty as 1 was,
Grandpa was away from home, or 1 ,
think even the risk of my life would not
have kept In in from taking me home,
land I grew iii and delirious, and Madge
Lee nursed me as a sister might, and
Gideon was kinder than a brother. He
read to mo; he brought me cooliug drinks
made of fruits after some Oriental rec
ipes which he possessed; he found sweet
flowers dripping with dew in the woods,
and he sang, as I never heard any one
sing before, those Scottish balladB that
are lovelier than any other musio ever
written, to my mind; and it ended in
my loving them
So when I was well enough to go away
I took Madge's band in mine and said.
"How shall I ever thank yon for your
tender care of me?"
And she answered, "Agnes Grey, the
nly gratitude I ask is belief in us. The
people dowu there'' (and she pointed
with her brown hand toward the town)
"call us the children of a murderer, We
are the children of a martyr instead. 1
never saw my father, hut we both know
that hels innocent. And Gideon remem
bers Mb kindness, his tenderness, his gen
tleness and his honor
"Your uncle Mathew forgive me, bat
it is the truth was a wild, bad fellow.
He quarreled with my father, not father
with him, and the debt was paid. Mother
saw it done, and beard him boast that
the money should take him beyond the
roach of irksome laws and chattering
tongues. And for the bloody handker
chief, he had cut bis hand, and unbound
and washed it, and tied it up afresh in
mother'B very sight that day. Don't dare
to doubt it; don't be so cruel as to doubt
it, Agnes Grey,"
Then she brought me the picture that
they kept as a sacred relic, and verses
written by his hand and tender love let
ters yellow with age, and as 1 looked at
the face so sweet, so good, bo like that
of the Gideon Lee 1 knew 1 felt sure
that those who stood before me, though
they were the children of the man who
was hung, were not the offspring of a
murderer And afterward Gideon also
spoke.
"It is hard to bear," he said; "hard to
know that we must bear it all our lives;
but if yon only see the truth if only,
without proof, yon will understand that
we know no murder was ever done by I
our dear father's hand we, who have 1
his pictured face upon the wall, the let- I
tors written to our mother, the wori
our mother wrote begging us to read
them often when she was dead, and
never doubt the mau who on his knees
in the condemned cell, calling on God to
witness his last words, had sworn to the , grazed in the meadow and Rover's ken
wife who would have loved him even : nel was empty. The sight brought tears
bad he in some basty moment oeart a
fatal blow, that he knew nothing of
Mathew Grey's death and even doubted
that he was dead at all if you can believe
with us and not with those who were
his murderers, I. at least, shall have a
lighter heart.'
And 1 put my hand Into his, and gave
the other to Madge, and said honestly,
"1 do believe as you do, and 1 always
will"
And so I went away; but 1 took their
faces with mo, their pleasant ways, their
voices. As tor Gideon b tace, it haunted
me. There was about him a charm that
no one else ever had. They were all
quaint, all charming in their way, but
he most of all
A pretty scandal there was through
the town when I began to go down to
the farmhouse to see my friends. 1
knew it, and fought it bravely.
"Gideon Lee never killed any one," 1
Vowed aloud to those who eluded me,
"I will not ban his children for the fault
of others."
But there In the town were those who
had been at the trial, and eleven of the
jurymen and witnesses; and under a
stone in tho graveyard were the bones
that had been sworn to as Uncle
Muthew's, and in a bleak, lonely spot
bear the prison the coffin of the man who
Was hung; and how dared 1, a baby al
most at the time, to judge for myself.
I knew they were right enough, but I
never faltered, i was as sure as Madge
Was that her father never killed Uncle
Mathew. ,
They would not come to my home.
Indeed, grandfather would have had the
door closed in their faces, but nothing
oould keep me from them, And it was
dangerous work for me, too, as I began grown to be a magnificent waman
to know before long, to sit bo much by Madge, who kissed me as of yore, but
Gideon Lee's side, to hear his dear voice more gladly, and who left me in a nio
o Often, to feel my heart thrillingtwith nent alone with Gideon and drew the
a loving pity for him for which I had no stranger away with her.
Words. He was my wounded and des- I And Gideon held my hand, and I could
pised knight, this dear Gideon Lee, be- ' only eay,"It has been very long, Gideon,"
fore I bad known him throe mouths, and and try and hide my tears.
1 would have- given my life for him.
But he said no words of love to me nor 1
to him. JnstfriendB we were, and noth
ing more, outwardly. That was enough
for the town enough for grandfather.
I was called unnatural. 1 found my
dearest friends grown cold. Even the
clergyman -asked tne if "it would not
harm me to hold companionship with
Buoh people," ' '
And 1 said: "They are the best people
I have ever known. And even had their
father done the deed for which he died,
they would be no worse for it As it is
he was murdered, and you are all cruel
to these poor children of his cruel and
unchristian. '
So he left me unfitly, and so many a
friend left me, and all my comfort was
to eit between Madge and Gideon in the
qmet evenings arm taia to mem.
In the snmmer time we used to light
no candles, and the moonlight fell
through the Ivy leaves upon ns, and the
old dog lay at our feet and put his curly
head unon Madge's lap.. We would tell
"tories of fairies and goblins or sing re
mantie songs written before any of us
were born. Now and then Gideon
would steal his arm about my waist or
hold my hand awhile, and wrong though
any one might have thought there was
no more harm in it than though we had
been children.
Just so we were sitting one evening,
when grandfather walked into our midst
and clutched me fiercely by the arm.
No need to repeat the words he uttered.
The insults stung me as sharply as they
could Gideon Lee's children. But he
forbadetne ever to speak to them again
and took me home with him.
The last glimpse 1 caught of the broth
er and' sister showed them to be stand
ing hand in hand, their fingers clutched
tight, their teeth set, their faces white
with wrath tinder the moonlight, it
was my last glimpse for many years,
for the day after this we Bailed for Can
ada. Grandfather was a Canadian, and
it was partly to revisit his native land
and partly to put the ooean between the
Lees and me that he took the voyage.
But he could not tear my heart from
them. I loved them better than any
people I ever met; most of all I loved
Gideon.
But 1 never heard of him or from him,
nor could 1 guess whether he lived or
died, remembered or forgot me, for three
long years. ' '
At the end of that time mygraud
fathei died, and I, his heiress, returned
to my native land a rich woman and my
own mistress, though this was the codi
cil to the wilt that left me all:
"I, Henry Grey, having cause to fear
that my beloved grandchild is easily
misled by artful persons, and 1b not
guileful enough to understand their
guile, do, for her own welfare, add this
proviso, That, should she ever give her
hand in marriage to the son of the mur
derer of my son, Matthew Grey, all
claim upon the moneysand estates above
bequeathed her shall be forfeited, and
said property go, without reserve, to the
Hospital of St. Martha, to be ased by the
trustees of said institution as they see
fit."
But, despite this codicil, i went down
into the valley in which Gideon Lee'H
homestead stood before 1 had been at
home a day It was sunset when I
reached it, but the light did not as of
yore gild the paues of tbe upper win-
dows to sheets of burnished gold. Every
shutter was closed and the bouse Beeined
to frown upon me. The garden had run
wild; the fields lay desolate; the broken
branches of the orchard trees told
of boyish depredation. Strange cattle
to my eyes, 1 went up the old porch
and found there, wet with rain and
tangled in the relics of last year'B vine, a
acarlet ribbon, one Madge must have
worn, 1 put it in my bosom and came
away. No one could tell me anything
of Gideon Lee's children, .except what
the empty house had idd me that they
were gone.
( had lost them: and what did 1 care
that all the country place besides wel-
corned me home? Gideon's smile would
: have .been more to me than all their
greetings, and Madge would have given
I me a kiss that had true love iu it.
I was not happy, 1 could not be gay.
I could not care for anything veryrauch.
I lived a quiet life for two long years,
and, let thosecall me cold and proud who
I would, 1 was not cold, but those who
courted me were Gideon Lee's enemies,
I and had persecuted pretty Madge since
' her very birth, and had done their inno
cent father to death, and I hated them
, for it, though 1 said nothing.
But at last, one bright morning, walk
ing up the road to look at the desolate
, dwelling where 1 had learned to love
Gideon Lee's children, 1 saw a change
in it. The windows were open; a man
was at work in the garden. Three fig
ures in traveling costume had just en
tered the porch and a carriage stood at
the gate.
I knew Gideon's tall figure at a glance,
but who was this superb, glowing, beau
tiful, with a look of triumph on her
face who came toward me? And who
was that old man with the strange, sar
castic smile, that I fancied I had seen
before?
As 1 advanced I knew that it was
Madge who ran to meet me Madge,
"It has been long for me, Agnesl" he
said. And then there was a pause. He
broke it by kneeling down beside me,
with my hands in his as i set on the low
step of the porch.
"You are Miss Agnes (reyt he said,
"and the world honors yon. 1 am the
ion of the man who was hanged, Even
now. loving you as 1 do as I have all
this weary while that stands between
us, a barrier you could not cross. Is It
not so? Were 1 all else, and so worthy
of you, I should still be Gideon Lee, and
an outcast, branded with Cain's brand
upon the forehead, and you oould neither
love nor wed mel"
Could 1 say "1 love you?" It was not I
in maidenhood to do that. It was im
possible. 1 trembled; 1 faltered; 1 only An Antroiogist Cau tiie Horoscope of Lis
said these words; "It is an unjtiBt brand j Honlon.
unjust and cruel. My eyes never see I The Sew York World has "cast" what ,
it, Gideon Lee I" , , 1 the illiterate sometimes call the "horror-
He showered fond kisses on my hands. I scope" of Borden-tliat is, It has
but he spoke again. : astwlogb to do so- .
r. . a Z ... a : a and the result Is a horrible horoscope in-
Do you dare to do it, Agnes-to love The 9 Bo rfhe WorW ' wag
an outcast man; to bring upon yourself vea &n tho detaii of Uzlie,t birtMay
contempt and hate; to relinquish wealth mi tacts reqired by the profession,'
ior wie uuinuie uie oi a Bunyie huuibk
Is your love strong enough for this? j
Will you never repontr
"Never," I said,
"When' your gold is gone, your land
ViAAa ,-.Il rt
another s, your friends turned to ene-
mies and your name, your very name,
Agnes that of the man who was hang- !
edT he asked slowly. "Thinkl can you
bear that ignominy? I know how ter-
ribleitis." i
And i took my hands from his and
laid them on his broad shoulders and
. , , , , , , -3i
said-but no matter what 1 said I
have forgotten the words that told him
that i loved him too well to doubt my
courage to bear anything for his dear
sake. .
But suddenly, as he knelt there look-
ing up into my eyes, 1 saw a look in his
face that 1 could not underBtand-a look
u m Komn t
that made me cry out and begin to
tremble! and I saw others draw near;
and 1 saw Madge clasp her brother's
hand, and the old man held out both of
histome.
"We have been parted five years," Baid
Gideon. "In that time J have been
searching for something that 1 believed
must be hidden in the wide world. I
have touna it.
"Gideon, tell me, I cried.
"Could any earthly thing but one em-
bolden me to speak as I have spoken to
you?" said Gideon. "Do you think that
I would ever have offered any woman a
tu. .m , uM
name that would have made her an ou
cast? That which I sought, that which
I found, was a living proof of my dear
father's innocence. Look! do you know
this man? Have you no recollection of
him?"
And 1 turned my eyes upon the old
man, who had taken my hand in his,
and knew that 1 looked upon my uncle
tj. r J
ml 't ,
The whole town knows the story now.
He has told them how, yielding to his
wandering impulses, he left, as he had
done once before, the home and friends
of his early manhood, and far from all
news of Christian lands dwelt inthe
Arab's tent upuu the desert and wan-
A , v, i ;
dered with him over the burning sands
loving the hie too well to leave it, aid
never hearing of Gideon Lees nnjjst
condemnation, or of his terrible fate, until
his son stood before him and bade him,
if one drop of Christian pity lingered in
his soul for tbe man on whom he had
brought this awful doom, to return and
prove by his living presence the fact of
his innocence and of his unjust death.
. ,11.
now as ol thowe of a martyr; and the
ban is lifted from the name that 1 have
taken for my own. Buffalo News.
'
Tho Ancient Mines of Laurium.
United States Consul Manatt, at
Athens, in a recent report on Greek min-
, . t n ,
ing and metallurgy, enters into the his-
. . , v J .
tory of the subject in an interesting
manner.
The mines of Laurium, now worked
for zinc, lead and iron, are, he says, the
very mines from which Themistocles
drew the silver supply to fit out his fleet
and beat back the Persian invader at
Salamis (490-480 B. C), and so to lay the
- , , . . tl . , J
foundations of the Athenian hegemony.
More than tlns.it is thought probable
that the Phoenicians delved here before
the.Greeks came, as they are known to
have done in the Island of Thasos.
At any rate, Thoricus was a free city
before Theseus welded the Attic bor -
oughs into a single commonwealth (that
, ? , . , , u,
is to say, before the name of Athens ap-
peared in history) and its importance
must have been due to the mines; so that
the mining industry at Laurium may
possibly boast an origin as remote as
thirty centuries back, while it is again
in full blast today.
In walking through the French com
pany's great mine at Camaresa, in the
heart of the Laurium region, one tra
verses here a gallery in active exploita
tion for zinc and lead and hard by an
other worked out by the old Greeks two
or three thousand years ago. These an
cient works are among the most inter
esting monuments of Hellenio civiliza
tion. . '
Nearly All tbe Veterans Gone.
In 1867 Napoleon III can ted a medal to
be struck hi honor of the veterans of the
first republic and the first empire. It was
called the St. Helena medal, and was only
conferred on those old soldiers who had
served under French colors between 1798
and 1815 and for a period of at least two
years. In the year 1809 this decoration was
in the possession of no less than 48,593 vet
erans, and now, according to the German
Militar-Wochenblatt, the total has dwin
dled to IS. In 1877 the number had sunk to
10,640, in 1880 there were 4,024 survivors,
and in 1890 only 48 wornout old men re
mained to answer any mortal roll call.
Of the 13 veterans who are yet with us
ftien who have actually seen 'le petit cor
poral" face to facethe youngest was born
In 1800 and the eldest on July 28, 1786. He
is therefore KHJ years old. He lives in a hos
pital for veterans at Lyons. He served with
Napoleon in Egypt and marched with him
Over the Great St. Bernard. He took part
in the peninsular war and the fatal retreat
from Moscow. Five times wounded in Rus
sia, he carries one of the bullets in his body
still. His battles and bruises ended at Wa
terloo, where he served with the imperial
zuard.
FOR SUPERSTITIOUS READERS.
nut was Kept in ignorance ol tne name ana
present condition cf the person to be horo-
scoped.
Afterstudying her charts and findingthe
portions of un, m, planets, ete, on the
iawi oi Lizzie Dinu uie seeress wasnurn
.fled r,(u8pdt0 on tm assured that
: ,h vMt0 M n nerMnal Interest in the
Mm,. ..r jj .v.. mrwa. "a m-ent.
deal of trouble in this life-trouble in the
home trouble everywhere. ThiB woman
is a very peculiar person not like other
women. She is true, loyal to those Bhe is
' anso ute.y reien less , raose sue
dislikes and distrusts. Her life seems to
hav(J been blagted Iike the buds on s tree
which fr08t ha8 A11 the gtomjg
md troubles which have swirled about her
since she was 15 years old seem to have
united to destroy her in 1892.
"It has been a terrible year to her. Inthe
nmmep-July, I should say-there was a
in some sort of a cataa-
trophe which seems to be the misery climax
,, xTn.Hn m J hofa.ii
km ht th infl , .whh w. a.
w as she lives. It does not, however, af-
feet her as it would an ordinary woman,
..though she suffers much niorethananyone
knows. You see, the outer woman has to
j be superior to the inner one. She is com-;
Vi to seem better than she is. This ,
makes another struggle.
So far any one familiar with the case
could go, but the seeress went on to tell
Lizzie's future: "This woman must die 8ud-;
1 im7 and by her own hand. I see her in
prison suffering for some one else. She
could go out if she would speak, but sh
does not, she cannot, although she is al-; :
i ways conscious that a few words would
I her ghe gllCm sientl for anotherJ
In igtnr that other will die. and jtiat before'
that every cloud clears from this horoscope. I
But it will be too late she will have gone."j
"You spoke of a sudden and violent death,
Can you say more?" ... .
"It was written from the first that she
EU't die of steel and by her own hand,
Jhi 1b the only crime of her life, but I see
her accused of many. Perhaps she con-i
sented to some of them, but her hand is
only ifted against herself-to end a blasted
ijfa. She will never see another birthday."
The seeress absolutely refused to make a
written report of the horoscope and pledged
The World's representative, a woman re-!
porter, to never reveal what she said to the'
subject In conemdmg she shuddered and, ,
declared that there was mora suffering in
thiscasethaa in anyshe had ever exam-'
So now we know what Lizzie's fate!
fa to be, if the astrologist is to be relied on.
t
TAME, BUT DANGEROUS : j;
The Story of a Mountain Lion That Knew
Its Master.
The author of " A Ride Through Wonder-'
land" says that she was invited when in
Colorado to visit a hunter's store and see a
mountain lion, the only one, as Its owner
, . , . . , . . ' . ,
asserted, which had ever been tamed. It
was in a little back room, chained to an
iron staple in the floor, round which it was
pacing, uttering low growls.
j It appeared very much like a small pan-:
ther, and seemed anything but tame, snarl-:
J at lonSf t0 P
inaweof its master, however, and cowed
- .,.! i i..i ,v,; u
down every time he cracked Ins whip. He
made it do several tricks with a retriever
dogi which did not seem to like the t.it.k
. very well,
' "Come and kiss Miss Pussy," said the ;
man, and the dog went np to it, laid a paw
' nP0B its neck mi Ucked its face.'
' The masto th.a put a piece of meat on
."iv iefgtw. 3,.
He doesn t ciu-e tor this part, was nia
mmmmti ..slle has had him by the throat
once 0r twice. Just look at her iron paws!
One blow would lay you dead as mutton.
What, you brute, you would, would' your"
I Miss Pussy had tried to gnaw his boot
and needed to be lashed off .
I "Did you ever take her out?" . .'. ,
1 "oh- J"?'." wit,h '!
the mountains sometimes. I take her chain1
off when Wro out of the towD( but Vmt
precious oaivful to follow her and never let
her step behind mel" , ,
1 .
The Panama Swindlers.
The scandal in connection with the Panr-I
ama canal has been the subject of many:
newspaper articles. The persons charged;
with fraud are now lodged in the Mazasi
prison at Paris, On their complaining of j
cold and of the regulation hammock on,
their arrival they were moved from the1
MAZAS PE1SON,
ground to the first floor, which is drier J
and allowed to improve their beddiog. The
cells are heated to 60 degrees, andtheao-j
cused are permitted light throughout the
night at their own expense after 9. Dp to
the present their reading has been confined i
to Jules Verne's novels, supplied from the !
prison library. They obuim their food!
from the prison canteen, but a certain
quantity of wine from their own cellars is
allowed them. . M. Cottu has specially
prepared coffee brought him daily.
haliy M. Charles de Lesseps has the use of;
an elaborate toilet bag. ,
life
Blii