3ood Iiver Slacier. HOOD RIVER, OR., JUNE 15, 1889. Sir. Injralls' Hint to the Pregldent. (Philadelphia Inquirer.)1 ' Tbe Hon. A. C Ilarmor, representa tive in congress for tho olh District of this city, was talking with a number . of triends yesterday in relation, to the ex pected , changes in tho federal offices here. ""Yes,!' ho said, "the changes come slowly. That recalls an incident which occurred in Washington the oth er day," he added. "Senatoj Ingalls of Kansas had called on the president to, urge the appointment of a man to a place in his state, and after stating the case, the president observed that the time of the incumbent had not yet expired. 'Nof replied the senator, 'he was ap pointed only a short time before Presi dent Cleveland's term expired.' 'In that care,' said tho president, 'we had better let him remain until his time is out. Cleveland seems to have douo that with his Republican predecessor, , and we ought to at least do a well as Cleveland.' "Well, Mr. President,' remarked the cyriical president pro tem of the senate, 'maybe your judgment is best, and cer tainly your opinion in this1 matter will have the most force, but I would like to ,. call your attention to where Cleveland isnovy.' " The subject was not pursued . further, -i i :'' T i , j . r . - ,1 L. 1 Pari It c CoHgt fruit, in the Bast. San Francisco," June 12. J. K. Amis by, of the Armsby Packing Co., of Chi- ' cago, is in the city, and when questioned concerning the handling of California fruits in the East, said 'today: "We have been very successful in disposing pf California fruit. It finds a ready market, and few compaints come buck about it.! The growers, however, should exercise more care ' in raising, and in preparing fruit for the market, and should send only the best quality of goods. Pacific coast fruit is a favorite in 'the East, and the market is just opening up. Last year's crop Jiaa- all been disposed of at fairly goodjrices. -Pru-hee bae-a-la-F;? sslS and i is no reaSQijyiiy those from this coast should not supply the 80,000,000 pounds an nually imported from France and Turkey- - ' ' - t - ' , r Clowned In a Wulerspont. . , i (Hcppner Gazette.) f ' - . On Wednesday of last week Mrs. Les lie Spicer was drowned in a waterspout near Pilot Rock. A shearing crew were at work in a corral near the house when the rain storm came up, which was con fined principally to the gulch in which the house was situated. Mr. Spicer was with the crow and started to the house to look after his wife, but before reaching it the building washed away, resulting as stated above. Her body was found a half mile below on Thurs day morning. The building was torn to atoms by the force oi the current, Mr. and Mrs. Spicer were married last fall, and this is surely a sad onding of their happiness. . .... Snow and ftloet In Wyoming. Cheyk.wve, Wyo., June JO. So much rain has fallen in the- past few days along the line of tbe Union Pacitic and 100 miles north that the track is soft in many places, and all trains nro some what delayed. Saturday and Sunday there was sleet and heavy snow three inches deep here, and a foot at Sherman, thirty miles west, and fifteen inches at Carbon, and Rawlins, the center of the territory. The Western Union wires are still down. There have been bliz zards in the foothills, and a consider able loss of sheep. Otherwise the storm is highly beneficial. Stanley's Movements. Zanzibar, June 12. A letter received here from Ururi, on the southeastern shore of Victoria Nyanza, dated Decem ber 22, 1888, reports the arrival there of Henry M. Stanley, with a number of in valided mombers of his force. The let ter says that Stanley had sustained heavy losses, a large number of his men having died from disease and famine. The explorer had rejoined and left Emin Pacha at Unvara, on the northwestern shore of the lake. . Bodies Recovered at Johnstown, "4tii Wabd Schodl IIoosk Morgue,) June 8. "The bodies received here are 219; Pennsylvania railroad station morgue, 182; Morrellville morguo, 128; St. Col umbia church morgue, in Cambria city, 835 ; the Hawes morgue, "73 ; Millville, 57; Grandview chappel, 118; the old Nineveh, Indiana county, morgue, 56; Nineveh proper, 233. Total, 1880, Mrs.' Ferry Sues For Divorce. Sax -Francisco, June 8. Mrs. Eve lyn P. Ferry, the woman who has been the cause of so much scandal in the American colony of Paris during the past four months, brought suit today, through her attorneys, asking jor a di vorce from Iter husband, Clinton P. Ferry, on "the ground of cruelty and neglect. ' Her Rival's Valentine. "Do it," ho said, "and anything short of taking my own life I'll do." "You would not part with that?" "It's only just begun. ' I've had no fling yet. Ko, my lady, I'll not part with my life.". ' i ' "Perhaps," still in a bantering tone she spoke, "you would take the life of another?" An understanding was growing up be tween them. He drew a step nearer, and now looked at her steadily. "I would take a life," he said deliberately, "if I were paid for it." y . "And whp-t would be your price?" He paused, and a hot flush deepened the brown of his skin. Only by an effort could he speak. . "I wouldn't do it formoney,"he said, "but I would for love." Ho expected to see the fury spring into her face and bear himself denouncedfor his audacity, but she stood still and kept her eyes upon his face. .- t "To-morrow night," she said in a tone that reached his ears distinctly, but went very little beyond him, "a gentleman will come riding through the village towards the Gordonfells." "Do I know him?" he asked in the same keen whisper. "His name is Basil Brandreth." "1 know him well." "Enough, then. He is not to come to the Gordonfells; he must never reach It; and it he could disappear and never be heard of again all the better." . f ; . "He can be " "Do not let mo know what could be done,' hut tell me this can he be kept from the Gordonfells?" "He can." . ; . : lie no longer called her "my lady," and eacft moment ho was growing bolder. He had drawn nearly up to her when she check ed him with her hand. - . JVfm mic,t Af .A", wArV five "and then seek payment." ; "I'll have something on account," he said. "You will not deceive me?'' . "If there were twenty Basil Brandreths, not one of them should roach the Gordon fells to-night." "Or be heard of again?" ' "Never again." . ; "Haste you, then, to-day to Carpingdean. and post this letter there." She drew one from her breast and handed it to him as sho spoke. "Do It secretly and well." " ' "You must not go yet," he said, planting himself in her way. "Something on account. Let me touch your cheek with my lips." With a shuddering frame she stood still while he stooped down, and trembling with joy, put his lips, not to her cheek, but to her lips he had quite recoveredhis ordinary audacity. , ... "That's my seal upon the compact," he said. - And Vida, without answering a word, drew her cloak over her head and hurried back to Gordonfells. . CHAPTER III. HIS SHAKE OF THE COMPACT. Vida went back by the way she came, and had got no farther than the border of the wood when, to her secret terror and dismay, she met Abel Moore. . He was usually dressed with remarkable neatness early or late, but now there were signs of a hurried toilet, In an imperfectly tied scarf, and an overcoat buttoned awry. He wore no gloves, and carried a heavy riding-whip In his hand. t "Why, dearest Vida," he exclaimed in an agitated tone, "j. am rejoiced to find you safe." ' ' "' . "Safol" she repeated with a forced smile; "1 have never been in danger." "Not that you know of," herejoined,"but you have had somo fellow dogging you as you walked. I could see him from the win dow of my dressing-room in the north tow er." . . "I I havo seen no one," she stammered, appalled at the danger of discovery that bad been only just averted. He mistook tho nature of her agitation, and taking her hand drew it through his arm. "You must not be out so early alone," he said, "and, perhaps, after all, I have need lessly alarmed myself." "It may havo been fancy," Vida suggest ed. . . "No, I saw the fellow clearly enough." "Did you recongnise him, uncle?" "No, my dear, but I thought he looked like a gipsy." And as he spoke her lips burned with the memory of tho vagabond Bardolph's kiss as it would have done withthe after-pain of a wasp's sting. . . ' ' "Well, I am safe," she said with a faint smile, "but I am very sorry to have brought you out In the chill damp of the early morn ing." . "Why, dear child, I am not made of paste board, but, as you say, it is chilly, and we must hasten back." At the hall-door they met Ruth, attired for a walk and coming to meet her cousin. ; t" How pure and fresh her beauty was I Like a newly blown rose, rich and radiant In the morning light. "My dear father," sheexclaimed, ''you out walking too?" "I have been a little way to meet Vida," he answered, as he touched her cheek with his lips. . ' She turned to Vida to give her the accus tomed morning salute, but already it seem ed to Vida that a black" barrier stood up be tween them, and she barely touched Ruth's cheek in return. "I am no longer Vida Moore," she thought, "but theancee of agipsy vagabond." She would fain at this moment have un done the work of the morning, but it was already too late. . Bardolph was on his way to Carpingdean with the letter, and there was no recalling him. The rest of his work he would do by-and-by, and there was but one way of sav ing Basil Brandreth, and that tfas by open confession. . No, that would never do tho bitter work must go on to the end. Of all tho days of her young life, Vida had never knpwn one like that which fol lowed. It was not pain, or sickness, or fear, orre pentance that assailed her, but a wild watchfulness and soul weariness that was inexpressibly horrible to bear. "I slept very little last night," she told Ruth when she ' expressed some anxiety about her health, '"and my headaches. I think I shall spend the day quietly in my room." "Shall I read to you?" Ruth asked. "Yes; read to me," Vida said. Vida lay upon her couch with the curtains drawn to dim the light, and Ruth, choosing "Evangeline," began to read that charming story of woman's pure faithful love. It jarred upon Vida's ears ; she turned her thoughts to Basil Brandreth. She knew he was at Briarwood, spending a few hours with his people, and burning with impatience to mount his horse and ride to his lady-love. ' "'.-''. In the depths of her aching heart her an guish boiled and bubbled like oil in a cauldron.,- ' ' ."If he were burning, to come to me," she thought, "how different my life would bej" "What did you say, dear?" Ruth asked. ' "Nothin?," she replied. "I did not speak." "I thought you did. Shall I go on read ing?" "No, thank you. I think if you leave mo now I shall sleep, and if I d'o not wake to dress for dinner, do not disturb me." "But Basil is coming," said Ruth. "To see you," replied Vida, smothering some harsh words that rose toherlfps."You will be good company enough without my poor society. I will join you at tea." Ruth left, and as it was then four in the afternoon Vida knew she would be disturb ed no more. , . if To guard against the posstr$ftf a visi tor, she went to the door anoj5Cked it. ' To her coh she di1 -not return hut s?.t down by the fire and tried to warm her chill ed hands and feet, which seemed to have been turned to ice. In vain, the life-blood would not return to them, and, shivering she arose and walked about the room. . Every few minutes she looked at her watch, and the" time lagged wearily. . "My lover with the tiger's eyes will keep his word," she said; "Basil will not be hefb to-night. But where and how will ho stop him." . She felt that Bardolph might be trusted, but as the time for the arrival of Ruth's lover drew hear, she became restless beyond all endurance. One moment she would have stopped the murderer for Bardolph could tie nothing less than that to be successful and the next moment she was ready to take a share in the deadly work. Now hot, now cold, she pwed the room until she could bear it no longer. "I must go out," she though; "Imustt nave air." She took the fur-lined cloak she had worn In the morning, and wrapped it about her. Just outside in the corridor there was a staircase seldom used, that led to a small door in the north tower. . Mr. Moore used it occasionally for a pri vate mode of entrance or cxitbr.t nobody else ever went that way. Opening the door of the room softly she listened. All was still without. "Now," she said, "1 can Umivo safely. It Is the idle hour of .all at Gordonfells." She locked her door quietly, and with a light step descended the staircase. As she passed her uncle's room, she heard him within humming a tune. 1 "All are merry here but me,'? sho thought bitterly. The door below turned back on its hinge3 without noise, and she passed out, closing It gently behind her. It was already night, and the moon was rising. "I will walk here," she said, and paced up and down the terrace once. Then she was drawn by a mysterious pow er that was irresistible. towards tho road by which Basil would come. ' '. ' Sho crossed the park, and avoiding the lodge, reached the main road by a gap iu tho fence she knew of. Once on the high road she went forward swiftly. A revulsion of feeling had again come up on her. . " "I was foolish mad," she murmured. "I must stop that gipsy bloodhound. If Ruth get3 the letter lean say that it is a Jest. Hark I is that not a horse coming?" ' Sho stopped and listened, and the patter ing of a horse's hoofs fell upon her ear. The sound came from a distance. "He is com'ng," sjie said; "the gipsy has been false to his promise. No. Oh, my God!" The report of a gun or a pistol echoed in the night air. In a moment the sound was repeated, and then a stillness followed. , With hurried feet, and trembling in every limb, V-da glided swiijlly over the ground. She reached the be'f "-t the road, turned it, and came upon a blood back upon her t sent the life d for a rap- nient stopped its beating. On the ground lay a young fellow with all the grace of early handsome manhood in his face and figure, an unmistakable scion of gentle blood. He was quite still, and lay as if ho had fallen asleep upon the road. In the distance a horse was galloping off in affright ; - Not far from the trembling Vida stood a man, roughly dressed, with a mask cover inghisface. . Vida drew near to the fallen man, and with wild eyes and hushed breath scanned him over.. . i Suddenly she fell upon her knee's beside him. ' "Not dead, not dead 1" she cried. "Basil, speak to me! Oh, Heaven, what have I done? Basil, come back to life!" "If you make this noise," said a stern voice behind her, "you will bring somebody who will make it unpleasant for both of us. You were mad to come here." ' "You villain!" cried Vida, leaping to her feet and turning upon him, like an angered tigress, "for this foul work I will have you hanged ! There is no gallows high enough for such a pitiless murderer!" v "Heyday!" said the masked Bardolph Dimsey, "so that is your game. You set me to do your dirty work, and when it Is done you threaten to pay me with a rope. But, my lady, mark me ! we shall die together." She stared at him now like a woman sud denly turned to stone. Her very soul wag frozen with horror. . Bardolph glanced down the road, and see ing that nobody was coming, took her by the wrist, and, tearing off his mask, looked her full in the face. - ' . "We live or die together," he went on; "Do you remember that letter I posted to lay? I'm not a gipsy vagabond-I've gentle Wood in my veins, and I've learnt to read ' nd write. 1 opened your letter bofore I posted it and copied it." "You villain!" hissed Vida. Ho laughed softly, and put his arm about' aer. , . "Come," lie said, "let us be friends. I've ao notion of harming you if you keep your word. I've done my work, let me have air; ther kiss on account" . . He stooped down to kiss her, but sho Itruck him fiercely, and wrenehed.from his rrasp. . ... "Do not madden me," she said; "if you go too far I may despise the risk I run myself and bring the do?s of justice on you. Look, man is it here," pointing to the still form of Basil Brandreth, "that you dare talk of love?" ' , "By-and-by, then," he said recklessly. ' "I've not been bred so daintily as you, and, ni not so particular. Hurry home, my bride, you may be missed, and leave me to give the finishing touches to this job. , I've i the grave ready.'.' --! i Her face blanched, and she shook so ter-; rihly that she was in danger of falling, but when he put out his arm to hold her up, she recovered herself with an effort, f "Do not touch me here," was all she said. "Go then," he-answered, "but remember this: I shall expect you to-morrow at the place where we mot and talked so pleasant ly this morning. Yon know the spot, and do not forget or I shall be induced to make a call at the Gordonfells." . ' ; It was a peaceful spot in which they stood. Not far from the place was the old church, with its massive tower, and the bright sil very moou behind it. In the churchyard lay those who slept with their fathers, and the dark windows of the church looked blindly down upon them. Beyond a mile away the lighted houses Of the village faintly gleamed. " All so still, so peaceful even to Basil Bran dreth peace on everything butlheman and woman on whose souls lay the weight of the murderous deed. . heir hearts dark passions were con ig. The tires of hate and unholy love i d fiercely, flashing from their eyes. iot blood ran like molten lava through . vo n. - . mi ,vi 1 1 m for mo if T clo not oo -you," saia Vida siowiy. "Indeed I will," he answered. "Suppose I am ill?" she asked. "I feel a fevej; in my veins. It may lay me on a sick couch to-morrow." . "I will not wait for fever or anything," he said impatiently. "You'must come." "So be it then," she said, "in the after noonan hour before sunset" Then, casting one shuddering glance at Basil, she drew her cloak closely around her, and hurried from the place. CHAPTER IV. : v A WE All Y WAITING. , - "It seems to me," said Mr. Moore, "that we shall have to wait dinner for Basil Bran dreth." ; ' "The last man In the world I should have thought to prove a laggard lover," said Mrs. Moore. - They were in the drawing-room alone, and it was within five minutes of the dinner hour. Neither Ruth nor Vida had come down. ': "When a man himself makes an appoint ment,"! continued Abel, "even, in a small matter, he should keep it." "Something must have dotumed him," said Mrs. Moore. ( "In any case, he could have sent a mes sage," the husband rejoined. ' At this moment Ruth came into the room She looked pale and troubled, and the smile that she put upon her face was a very faint one indeed. - . . "Basil is very late," she said; "he will scarcely have time to dress for dinner." "I am afraid that he will not dine hereto night," said her father, shrugging his shoul ders; "it is sometimes necessary to teach tho rising generation good manners. Ruth, how is Vida?" - "I have knocked at. her door several times," Ruth answered, "and sho is still sAeeping." ; Barker slowly and solemnly entered the room. "Madame, shall I keep dinner back?" Mrs. Moore looked at lo,er, husbau'd, who. answered for her; ' ' "No, Barker; Mr. Brandreth has bu tained. Let dinner be served at oner. They went into the dining-room, bt, ner, so far as Ruth was concerned, mockery. She could eat nothing. Tb was being removed when Vida appearf "My dear child," said 'Mr. Moore, il hurriedly, "how pale you are I Why d' not keep your room?" , r "Being alone Irew wearisome," shl "and so I came down. No fish, thanl , n little wine." - ! j The attentive Barker poured hefjj glass of sherry, and she drank it. looked at Ruth steadily and without? ing. ' .- , ;H "Why, Birdie," she said, "you mTv too. We have ceased to be roses a J come lilies." u "Somebody has been detained," saJJ Moore jocosely; "but he will belief and-by." . '.tut "In the selfishness of my headache, Vida, "I forgot Basil was expected, p. wprfl nw lnv(r T ahnuM nnt. pasilv tneev' him Jt I Fri ( ContiMivd next vseek. ) House Paintii ii 'It v s Cantt Erthi Kalsomining, Tin losei i Mr, jsqui Paper HanB I Mi Dalh I Mi Ws. SATISFACTION GUARATE ort Tt tari Ul ay George Mathia ei HOOD RIVER. tot .as; the Tlit Acre r a 5 andjlO-Acre ) racts ONEjlLE FROM TOVA HOODER, OREGOm THiLACIEK Grains,'fropr. V Second St., ncl ' ocd Rivera Or, S having audattinj eatly done. S&.tisi.naraeeld. pOLUMBT wiiv,' ax-gust iR; letw ni, wr,f. 7i'- M?.a.sed toe form the clUuenj 0 ( If1"' JT . " 1 that he will lvVf i rT,"l"fl'y quality o' I .11 H A i, -CHOICE ; v - -ots. J v. ' SALE BY '-'J - Corind Second Sts.. 'V ' BaijrBhop1 1. .RR it X y-"