The Doetbr'$ pemma
By Hesba
CHAPTER XX.-fContlnaed.)
"You love her J" said Johanna.
"Certainly," I answered. " my
t.er.M
"Better than any woman now living?
aha nursued.
"Tea." I replied. ; '
"That ia all Juila requires." aha con
tinued: "so let us aay no more at pres
ent, Martin, Only understand that all
Idea of marriage between her and my
brother la quite put away. Don't argue
with me, don't contradict me. -Come to
aee ua aa you would have done but for
that unfortunate conversation laat eight.
All will come right by-and-by." "
"But Captain Carey " I began.
"There! not a word!" ahe interrupted
Imperatively. "Tell me all about that
wretch, Blchard Foster. How did you
come across hlmt Is he likely to die?
Ia ha anything like Kate Daltrey? I
will never call her Kate Dobree as long
aa the world lasts. Come, Martin, tell
me everything about him."
She aat with me most of the morning,
talking with animated perseverance, and
at last prevailed upon me to take her a
walk In Hyde Park. Her pertinacity did
me good in spite of the Irritation It
caused me. When her dinuer hour was
at hand I felt bound to attend her to
her house In Hanover street; and I could
not get away . from her without first
speaking to Julia. Her face waa very
sorrowful, and her manner sympathetic.
We aaid only a few words to one another,
but I went away with the impression that
her heart was still with me.
At dinner Jack announced his intention
of paying a visit to Richard Foster.
"You are not fit to deal with the fel
low," he said; "you may be sharp enough
upon your own black aheep in Guernsey,
but you know nothing of the breed here.
Now If I aee him I will squeeze out of
him every mortal thing he know about
Olivia." .
Jack returned, his face kindled with
xcitement. He caught my hand, and
grasped it heartily. ,
"I no more believe she is dead than 1
am," were his first words. "You recol
lect me telling you of drunken brawl
In a street off the Strand, where a fel
low, aa drunk as a lord, waa for claim
ing a pretty girl aa hie wife; only I had
followed her out of Kidley'a agency of
fice, and waa Just in time to protect her
from him. A girl I could have fallen in
love with myself. You recollect?"
"Yea, yes," I said, almost breathless.
"He was the man, and Olivia was the
girl!"' exclaimed Jack.
"No!" I cried.
""YesI" continued Jack, with an affec
tionate lunge at me; "at any rate I can
awear he la the man; and I would bet a
thousand to one that the girl was Olivia."
"But when waa It?" I asked.
"Since he married again," he answer
ed; "they were married on the 2d of Oc
tober, and this was early In November.
I had gone to Ridley's after a place for
a poor fellow as an assistant to a drug
gist, and I saw the girl distinctly. She
gave the name of Ellen Martineau. Those
letters about her death are all forgeries."
"Olivia's la not," I said; "I know her
handwriting too well."
"Well, then," observed Jack, "there ia
only one explanation. She has aent them
herself to throw Foster off the scent; she
thinks she will be safe if he believes her
dead." ,
"No," I answered hotly, "she would
never have done such a thing as that"
"Who else is benefited by it?" he ask
ed gravely. "It does not put Foster into
possession of any of her property, or
that would have been a motive for him
to do It But he gains nothing by it; and
he is so convinced of her death that he
has taken a second wife."
"What can I do now?" I aaid, apeaklng
loud, though I was thinking to myself.
""Martin," replied Jack, gravely, "Isn't
it wisest to leave the matter aa it stands?
If you find Olivia, what then? She ia aa
much separated from you as she can be
by death. So long as Foster lives -It is
worse than useless to be thinking of her."
"I only wish to aatiafy myself that she
is alive," I answered. "Just think of it,
Jack, not to know whether she is living
or dead! You must help me to satisfy
myself. This mystery would be intolera
ble to me."
"You're right, old fellow," he said, cor
dially; "we will go to Bidley'a together
to-morrow morning."
We were there soon after the door
were open. There were not many cli
ents present, and the clerka were enjoy
ing a alack time. Jack had recalled to
his mind the exact date of his former
visit; and thus the sole difficulty was
overcome. The clerk found the name of
Ellen Martineau entered under that date
in his book.
"Yes," he said, "Miss Ellen Martineau,
English teacher in a French school; pre
mium to be paid, about 10; no salary;
reference, Mrs. Wilkinson, No. 19, Bell
i ringer street"
1 "No. 19 Bellringer streetf wa repeated
in one breath.
i "Yes, gentlemen, that is the address,"
said the clerk, closing the book, "Shall
I write It down for you? Mrs. Wilkin
ison waa the party who ahould have paid
oar commission; as you perceive, a pre
mium waa required instead of a salary
given. We feel pretty sure the young
lady went to the school, but Mrs. Wil
kinson denies it, and it is not worth our
while to pursue our claim in law."
"Can you describe the young lady?" I
inquired.
. "Well, no. We have such hosts of
young ladies here."
"Do you know where the school is?"
"No. Mrs. Wilkinson waa the party,"
.he said. "We had nothing to do with it
except to send any ladies to her who
tbotight It worth their while. That was
n."
As we could obtain no further Informa
tion we went away, and paced op and
down the tolerably quiet street deep in
consultation. That we should have need
for great caution, and aa much craftiness
'as we both possessed. In pursuing our in
quiries was quite evident Who couid
be this Mrs. Wilkinson? Was it possi
ble that she might prove to be Mrs. Fos
ter herself? At any rate It would not do
for either of us to present ourselves there
in quest of Miss Ellen Martineau. It
was finally settled between us that Jo
hanna should be entrusted with the diplo
matic enterprise.
Johanna put in the next day following
down the clews Jack and I had discov
ered. "Well, Martin," she said that evening,
"you need suffer no more anxiety. Olivia
has gne as English tea, her in an excel
lent French school, where the lady ia
thoroughly acquainted with English ways
and comforts. This is the prospectus of
the establishment. You aee there are
extensive grounds for recreation, and the
comforts of a cheerfully happy home, the
domt-'ic rr,njr"m' btiag ca a thor
i
"Til
Stretton
oughly liberal acale.' Here ia alao a pho;
tographle view of the place; a charming
villa, you aee, In the best French style.
The lady's husband la an avocat; and ev
erything is taught by professors cosmog
raphy and pedagogy, and other studies of
which we never heard when I was a girl.
Olivia is to atay there twelve months, and
in return for her services will take les
sons from any professors attending the
establishment. Your mind may be quite
at ease now."
"But where Is the place?" I inquired.
"Oh! It is in Normandy Nolreau," he
said "quite out of the range of railways
and tourists. There will be no danger of
any one finding her out there; and you
know she has changed her name alto
gether this time."
"Did you discover that Olivia and Ellen
Martineau are the same persona?" I ask
ed. "No, I did not" ahe answered; "I
thought you were sure of that."
But I was not sure of it; neither could
Jack be sure. He puzzled himself in
trying to give a satisfactory description
of his Ellen Martineau; but every an
swertj he gave to my eager questions
plunged us into greater uncertainty. He
was not sura of the color either of her
hair or eyes, and made bltinderiug guesses
at her height
What waa I to believe?
It was running too great a risk to
make any further inquiries at No. 19
Bellringer street Mrs. Wilkinson was
the landlady of the lodging house, and
ahe had told Johanna that Madame Per
rier boarded with her when ahe waa in
London. But she might begin to talk to
her other lodgers, if her own curiosity
t r . -14 irJ i -
sat
"SITTING BESIDE
were excited; and once more my desire
to fathom the mystery hanging about
Olivia might plunge her into fresh diffi
culties, should It reach the cars of Fos
ter or his wife.
"I must satisfy myself about her safe
ty now," I said. "Only put yourself In
my place, Jack. How can I rest till 1
know more about Olivia?".
"I do put myself In your place," he
answered. "What do you say to having
a run down to this place in Basse Nor
mandy, and seeing for yourself whether
Miss Ellen Martineau ia your Olivia?"
"How can I?" I aaked, attempting to
hang back from the suggestion. It was a
busy time with us. The season was in
full roll, and our most aristocratic pa
tients were In town. The easterly winds
were bringing In their nsual harvest of
bronchitis and diphtheria. If I went
Jack's hands would be more than full.
Had these things come to perplex ua only
two months earlier, I could have taken
holiday with a clear conscience.
"Dad will jump at the chance of com
ing back for a week," replied Jack; "he
is bored to death down at Fulham. Go
you must for my sake, old fellow. You
re good for nothing as long as you're so
down in the mouth. I shall be glad to be
rid of you."
In this way It came to pass that two
evenings later I was crossing the Chan
nel to Havre, and found myself about
five o'clock in the afternoon of the next
day at Falaise. It waa the terminus of
the railway In that direction; and a very
ancient conveyance was in waiting to
carry on any travelers who were venture
some enough to explore the regions be
yond. I very much preferred sitting beaide
the driver, red-faced, smooth-cheeked
Norman, habited m a blue blouse, who
could crack his long whip with almoat the
skill of a Parisian omnibus driver. We
were friends in trice, for my patois was
almost identical with his own, and he
could not believe his own eara that he
was talking with an Englishman.
The sun sank below the distant hori
son, with the trees showing clearly
against It, and the light of the stars that
came out one by one almost cast defined
shadow upon our path, from the poplar
trees standing in long straight rows in
the hedges. If I found Olivia at the end
of that atar-lit path my gladnesa in it
would be completed. Yet if I found her,
what then? I should see her for a few
minutes in the dull salon of a school, per
haps with some watchful, spying French
woman present I should simply satisfy
myself that she was living. There could
be nothing mora between ua. I dared
not tell her how dear ahe waa to me, or
ask her If she ever thought of me In her
loneliness and friendleasness.
I begsn to sound the driver, cautiously
wheeling about the object of my excur
sion into those remote regions. I hsd
tramped through Normandy and Brit
tany three or four times, but there had
been no inducement to visit Nolreau,
which resembled Lancashire cotton
town, and I had never been there.
"There are not many English at Nol
reau V I remarked suggestively.
"Not one." he replied "not one at this
moment. There was oue little English
mam'selle peste! a very pretty little
English girl, who was voyaging precisely
like you, m'sieur, some mouths ago.
There wss a little child with her, and the
two were quite alone. They are very in
trepid, are the English main'ielles. She
did not know a word of our lunguage.
But that waa droll, m'sieur! A French
demoiselle would sever voysge like that."
The little child pusr.led me. Yet I
could not help fsnrying that this young
Englishwoman traveling aloue, with no
knowledge of French, must be my O.ivia
At any rate it couid be no other thaa
Mls Ellen Martineau.
"Where was she going to?" I a'ed.
"She came to Nolreau to be aa in
structress tai sa estsblinhnti nt" answered
the driver, in a tone of great enjoyment
"an establishment founded by the wife
of Monsieur Ernile Perricr, the avocat!
Hel he! he! hew drell that was, m'sleurj
An avocat! So they believed that In
England? Bah! Eiuile Perrler an a vo
ce!" '
"But what is there to laugh at?" I ask
ed. "Am I an-avocat?" he inquired deris
ively, "am I a proprietor? am I even a
cure? Pardon, m'sleur, but I am just aa
much avocat proprietor, cure, as Emlle
Perrler. He waa an impostor. He be
came bankrupt; he and his wife ran away
to save themselves; the establishment
was broken up. It waa a bubble, m'sieur,
and it burst."
My driver clapped his hands together
lightly, as though Monsieur Perrler'a bub
ble needed very little pressure to dis
perse It
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "but
what became of Oil of the young Eng
lish lady, and the child?"
"Ah, m'sleur!" he said, "I do not know.
I do not live In Nolreau, but I pass to
and fro from Falaise. She has not re
turned In my omnibus, that is all I know.
But she could go to Qran-IUe., or to Caen.
There are other omnibuses, you see.
Somebody will te'.l yon down there."
It was nearly eleven o'clock-before we
entered the town; but I learned a few
more particulars from the middle-aged
woman in the omnibus bureau. She rec
ollected the name of Miss Ellen Marti
neau, and her arrival; and she described
her with the accuracy and faithfulness
of a woman. If she were not Olivia her
self she must be her very counterpart.
I started out early the next morning
to find the Rue de Grace, where the In
scription on my photographic view of the
premises represented them as situated.
There were two houses, one standing in
the street, the other lying back beyond a
very pleasant garden. A Frenchman waa
pacing up and down the broad gravel
path which connected them, examining
critically the vines growing against the
walls.' Two little children were gam
boling about In close white caps, and witn
frocks down to their heels. Upon seeing
me he lifted his hat. I returned the sal
utation with a politeness aa ceremonious
as his own.
"Monsieur is an Englishman?" he aaid
In a doubtful tone.
"From the Channel Islands," I replied.
"Ah! you belong to us," he said, "but
rfl lt&i$jfi "
THE DRIVER."
you are hybrid, half English, half
French; fine race. I also have English
blood in my velus."
I paid monsieur a compliment upon the
result of the admixture of blood in his
own instance, and then proceeded to un
fold my object in now visiting him.
"Ah!" he said, "yea, yes, yes; Perrier
was an impostor. These houses are
mine, monsieur. I live in the front yon
der; my daughter and son-in-law occupy
the other. We had the photographs tak
en for our own pleasure, but Perrler
must have bought them from the artist,
no doubt I have small cottage at the
back of my house; monsieur! there it is.
Perrier rented it from me for two hun
dred francs a year. I permitted him to
pass along this walk, aud through our
coach house Into a passage which leads
to the street where madame had her
achool. Permit me, and I will show It
to you."
' He led me through a abed, and along
dirty, vaulted passage, Into a mean street
at the back. A small, miserable-looking
house stood In it, shut up, with broken
persiennes covering the windows. My
heart sank at the Idea of Olivia living
here. In such discomfort and neglect and
sordid poverty.
"Did you ever see young English
lady here, monsieur?" I asked; "she ar
rived about the beginning of last Novem
ber." "But yes, certainly, monsieur," he re
plied, "a charming English demoiselle!
One must have been blind not to observe
her. A sweet face, with hair of gold,
but a little more somber.
"What height was she, monsieur?" I
inquired.
"A just height," he answered, "not tall
like camel, rbr too short like a mon
key. She would stand an inch or two
above your ahoulder, monsieur." '
It could be no other than my Olivia!
She bad been living here, then, in thia
miserable place, only a month ago; but
where could she he now? How waa I
to find any trace of her?
"I will make aome Inquiries from my
daughter," aaid the Frenchman; "when
the establishment was broken up I waa
ill with the fever, monsieur. We have
fever often here. But she will Enow
I will ask her."
He returned to me after some time,
with the information that the English
demoiselle had been seen In the house
of a woman who aold milk. Mademoiselle
Rosalie by name; and he volunteered to
accompany me to her dwelling.
It was poor-looking house, of one
room only. In the aame street as the
achool; but we found no one there except
an old woman, exceedingly deaf, who
told ua that Mademoiselle Rosalie waa
gone somewhere to nurse a relative, who
was dangerously 111, and she knew noth
ing of an Englishwoman and a little girl
I turned away baffled and discouraged;
but my new friend waa not so quickly
depressed. It was impossible he main
tained, that the English girl and the
child could have left the town unnoticed.
He went with me to all the omnibus bu
reaus, where we made urgent inquiries
concerning the passengers who had quit
ted Noireau during the last month. Ns
places had been taken for Miss Eilen
Martineau and the child, for there waa
no such name in any of the books. But
at each bureau I was recommended tu
see the drivers upon their return in the
evening;' and I was compelled to giva up
the pursuit for that day.
(To be continued.)
What He Was IMng Of.
Mrs. Kelly-Did jex hesr of th felly
ocrosht the way djin' of Anglophobia?
Mrs. Googaa Yes mean hydrophobia!
Mrs. Kelly No; I mean Anglopho
bia! He wui cheerln fer King Ed
ward, n' de gang hecrd h!m! Judge.
Few Millionaire in France.
There are four millionaires In En
gland to oue in "ranee.
V ' fpAIKSOIVINO Kfik
Fair Dorothea, a goodly mayde.
From Puritans descended,
In kirtle, cap and kerchief prayed
That famine sore be ended.
Though piump and fair albeit she kept
She tired of frugal living.
Bo prayed she while the Elders slept,
"Lord, send a true Thanksgiving'
The cunning lass. She had no lack
Of gown or ermine tippet,
Of mettled palfrey's pillioned back.
Or pretty fawning whippet.
The roses In her saucy cheeks
Are not by famine shrunken.
Her wholesome appetite bespeaks
The pies of quince er pumpkin.
lint ah, her secret yon have guessed,
Sharp eyes her tricks discover;
For Mistress Dorothea Is vexed
To miss ber soldier lover.
Who, with his bnllets, powder, match.
In forests dense Is living.
That he the bounding roe may snatch
To make their first Thanksgiving.
Ah, Miss Dorothea, your face
In smiling beauty painted.
Looks on me from a panel's space
Long, long, hare you been painted.
May we, though centuries apart
In peace and plenty living.
Voice your petition of the heart,
"Lord, send a true Thanksgiving." .
JIMMY'S THANKSGIVING. ?
BY PAUL INOELOW. T
-H--H-
PROCLAMATION-By virtue of
authority In me vested, do here
by appoint as day of
thanksgiving "
In sonorous, well-rounded accents the
sentences rolled forth. Little Jimmy
Quinn, newsboy and waif, listened, catch
ing not all that was spoken. But be un
derstood the Import, and he thought how
grand and majestic did the name and the
official designation, "Governor," fill out
the dignified, well-worded announcement.
He was outside the hotel, Now he tip
toed and looked over screen into
lounging room.
Jimmy saw person he thought the
nicest-faced, noblest looking man he had
ever met standing facing a mixed audi
ence, who had been listening while he
read the Governor's Thanksgiving proc
lamation, though Jimmy, not seeing the
paper he had just put aside, supposed he
had been speaking it out
"Further," said the pleasant faced, fine
eyed young man who held the interest of
the group by hla magnetic oratorical
grasp and general good fellowship, "be it
ordained that I, the Governor, command
that one ten-pound turkey be given to
every poor family, family with no father
two turkeys, family with no mother three
turkeya."
Jimmy got down from painful tiptoe
poise, full of the rarest excitement
wrought up by vivid imagination.
"Crackey!" he exploded. "Here's
news!" and bolted down the street for
home.
"Home" was rickety cabin in an un
kempt yard. It had known no woman's
care for three weeks. Jimmy and hla
brother had been "keeping bachelor's
hall" while she was In the hospital. . .
Across the back yard was stretched
taut wire, and against It leaned a balanc
ing pole. Just near it waa an Impromptu
spring-board, with an old torn mattress
nnder it.
Jimmy's older brother, Ned, -had Just
turned double somerssnlt as the former
burst upon the scene with prolonged:
"Say!
"Hello! what's up?" queried Ned, pos
ing for another tumble.
"Hold on! Say great newa!"
"WeUr
"The Governor's In town!"
"Hey! what Governor?" challenged
Ned, suspiciously and incredulously.
"Why, of the State the big nob. see?
I saw him! I heard him apeak his proc
lermation go ahead."
"He promised one turkey to every poor
man. two to half orphans, three to"
"Gwsnr
Ned disdainfully turned the cold shoul
der on his brother.
"Bat av "
"Naw! There's nothia" to it Some
body's been kiddin' you!"
"But it wss the Governor! Didn't he
tslk out the proc-lermition? Don't be
look a Governor all over? Two turkeys."
"Say, Jimmy," gravely interrupted
Ne4, "drop it You've been hoaxed. Get
down to business now, if you ever expect
to make mas of yourself."
Ever since the lsst cirrus came to town
the Quinn boys had been "making men
of themselves" ia wsy unique the ac
robatic way.
They were epry, supple, daring. Ned
waa "India rubber!" He could flip up
In the air Ilka an expert tumbler already,
after month's practice. And as to Jim
my's wire-walking feats Ned declared
they would aojn be earning "fifty per"
aa "the celebrated Flying Brothers!"
And "they had sacred motive in view,
"for mother's sake." She had scrubbed,
washed, worked day and night to raise
them. Now, even out of the trivial
amount thoy earned selling papers, they
had saved small sum to buy her a new
"comfort-rocker" when she came out of
the hospital.
Jimmy went through his practice In
half-hearted way. Hie cherished hopes
had been "sat on." He believed in fairies
asd luck, and therefore ln'"the Governor"
and his turkeys, and he determined to
find out more about them the next day,
without saying anything about it to the
scoffing Ned.
Opportunity presented the following af
ternoon. Jimmy waa getting rid of his
last "extry," when he recognised aplen
did figure coming up the street it was
"the Governor!"
With due awe and hesitation Jimmy
approached him, and the smiling, good
natured young man noticed it.
"Well, youngster," be said, "you act as
if you wanted to apeak to me."
"I do, Governor."'
"What's that?" exclaimed the other,
puxzled.
"Oh, I know you!" nodded Jimmy In
a mysterious, Masonic way and blurted
out his story, and asked to be put on "the
two-turkey list."
An amused expression crossed "the
Governor's" face. He waa only trav
eling jewelry salesman, but he could not
mar this lad's bright faith. He looked
Interested and grave when Jimmy told
all hi story of hardship, hope and en
deavor. "Jimmy Quinn," he said, taking out his
note book and making an entry "Keep
quiet about my being tba Governor, be
cause I'm modest man, and don't like
to attract attention."
"Yes, sir," promised Jimmy fervently,
proud of the confidence Implied.
"Thanksgiving day, when your mother
comes home, you shall have two turkeys,
I pledge the Governor's royal word for
It, friend Jimmy!"
e
Jimmy turned over In bed with a yell,
and his brother grabbed him. He had
been dreaming of ten thousand turkeya
roasting on a spit mile long, and
thought he fell in among them, so
"Fire!" he shouted.
"Bet your lifer' cried Ned. "Get up!
There's corker of blaze somewhere!"
Sure enough, there waa. The town waa
astir. Half-dressed, the brothers were
soon scudding wildly down the street
"Jimmy," said Ned, brcathieasly, aa
they turned the corner, "the Central's all
ablaze!"
The principal hotel of the little inland
city was doomed. In the crush the broth
ers became separated.
Jimmy waa hurrying past a building ad
joining, when he gave a quick stare.
A man in hla shirt aleeves, batlcss and
barefooted, dashed past him.
"Why!" asld Jimmy, electrically, "it's
the Governor!"
The man darted up the dark stairs of
the vacant building, next across brief
court to the hotel.
Jimmy put after him, he hardly knew
why. Up one flight two, three the roof,
through a scuttle, the man went before
Jimmy overtook him.
"The Governor" ran to the edge of the
eaves and looked down.
"No use!" Jimmy heard him groan.
"Mr Governor, what'a the matter?"
asked Jimmy, presenting himself In view.
"Hey? Oh, it's yon? Well, my boy,
I'm ruined, that'a all" .
"Yes, sir; bnt why are yos up here?"
"Because the fire drove me out of my
room. In the excitement end peril I left
behind a satched containing bnt It's
gone op! I hoped I could cross to the
roof "
"Which room, sir?" demanded Jimmy,
in the spsrkling ardor of mighty
thought
"That where this wire crosses to an
arm, and cuts above the court Boy, atopl
Jimmy!"
Whiz! Jimmy had seized the wire. Like
sprite he made a descent to which his
practiced hands were Inured.
Into the open window lost in the
amoke moment, into view (gain, blind
ed, apluttering, aatchel atrapped to hla
arm!
Tve got it r he yelled hilariously
"For nwrcy'a sake, be careful."" remark
ed the anxious "Governor." '
But Jimmy laughed. He even cut an
acrobatic caper across the dangling wire,
and, flushed and happy, landed on the
opposite roof, teuJeriug the satchel with
the words:
"There yon are, Mr. Governor!"
That sstchel contained "the Govern
or's" samples, $'2i1,ntio In precious gems.
When he wrote to his firm and then to
the insurance people explaining Jiuimj's
brave and daring exploit one sent check
for $300, the other for double that
mount.
The happiest wmaa ia ChritUadom
the bright Thanksgiving day ensuing was
Mrs. Mary Quinn.
Her "brave lads" bad placed JF900 in
bank to her account.
And, true to his promise, "the Gov
ernor" saw that their merry dinner table
was actually graced with two turkeya!
GLEESON'S TURKEY.
The Hired Man Waited for and Got
His Revenge.
ARVESTING w I
over, and work at
Farmer Uleeson'a be
ing slacker than
'I i-
&
propless clothesline,
cut was wade la
the hired man's
wages.
It waa not big
cut It could not be;
for It is not possible
to cut a universe
from an atom. But
it made big wound In the hired man's
contentment and he determined to have
revenge, although he made no open
threat of that intention. Deep in his
heart he muttered, "I'll git even with
im."
Now Mr. Gleeson possessed turkey
of which he waa very proud. In com
manding presence, in weight, in gobbling,
in symmetry of drum-sticks, it had no
peer, and scarcely rival. It was noted
for miles around as the most magnificent
of all turkeys ever raised In that section
The farmer thought so much of his
piece of property that In the sitting room
he hung photograph nt the bird be
tween the portraits of the first two Mrs.
Glecsons. But he had good reason to
regard It highly. It promised a great
financial gain to him. Managers of the
lesding hotels had deluged him with of
fers for the turkey. They wanted It for
Thanksgiving day. Bidding went on at
furious and reckless rate, The contest
excited the whole country. Prices rose
and jumped. One noted bostelrykeeper
added more interest by offering as
supplementary bid a premium of tw
dollars for every pound the turkey gain'
ed. An enterprising rival raised the
figure to three dollars. The farmer waa
bending all his facilities to take the
greatest possible advantage of these
wonderful chances.
The hired man acted as steward and
pusher. It was his duty to keep the
turkey supplied at all times with abun
dant food. If the turkey's appetite fal
tered from satiation, he prepared tit bits
that would tempt the fullest crop. Even
At night he awakened the poor, tired
turkey and coaxed it to eat lunches. His
teal was no less than the farmer s, aud
the results he waa achieving were re
markable. A gain of one pound a day
was recorded several times, and half-
pound additions were common.
But this description treats of the time
prior to the cut In wages. That event
marked change in the bird's condition.
There came lull In the Increase of
weight The rate valued at dollars per
day dwindled to centa worth; to noth
ing; and finally represented an actual
decline. No one seemed to know what
caused the change. The fowl certainly
consumed as much food as before, and
Its appetite seemed more ravenoua. Why
it should lose flesh under these conditions
was a mystery at least to the farmer.
He became very much alarmed, and had
his family physician come and look at
the turkey's tongue which the hired man
exhibited, not without difficulty. But
the doctor, though he prescribed tonic
and cod-liver oil, did the falling bird no
good. Ounce by ounce and pound by
pound the precious weight disappeared;
and bones began to be conspicuous.
The poor farmer, bitterly disappoint
ed, finally collapsed. A severe stroke
kept him In bed for a week. When he
recovered and saw his prize once more,
he knew that the cheapest boarding
house In the country would not have It.
The very next day was Thanksgiving.
He had eagerly looked forward to it, but
now he sorrowfully hung crape around
the turkey'a photograph.
But there was to be little rift In his
cloud of unbsppiness. One day the
hired man said be would give fifty centa
for the turkey If the photograph was
tbrowu In as a chromo. Cheerfully the
farmer accepted the offer. It waa so very
unexpected.
Then the hired man, as he jingled his
coin, cried triumphsntly: "I've got evea
with yer; I didn't doctor that 'er turkey
for uutbiu'."
The Meaning of It
if
Little Ersstus Poppy, why dey ssy
Fsnksgibbiu' turkey, huh?
Poppy Dat'a er cause yo' tank de
owna ob de coop fo' lea bin' de do' open,
St Louis Globe-Democrat
ssisrfla'fgpjsfl ...
GEO. P. CROVVELL,
Successor to E. L. Smith,
Oldest Established House in the valley.
DEALER IN
Dry Goods, Groceries,
Boots and Shoes,
Hardware,
Flour and Feed, etc.
Thii old-entablidhed house will con
tinue to pay cash for all its Roods; it
payi no rent; it employs a clerk, but
does not have to divide with a partner.
All dividends are made with customer!
in the way of reasonable prices.
Davenport Bros.
Are running their two mills, planer and box
factory, and can nil orders for
Lumber
Boxes, Wood
and Posts
ON SHORT NOTICK.
DAVIDSON FRUIT CO.
SHirrERa op
ROOD RIVER'S HIS FRUITS
PACKERS OP THI
Hood River Brand cf Canned Fruits.
MANUFACTURERS OP
Boxes and Fruit Packages
DEALKRS IN
Fertilizers & Agricultural Implements
THE REGULATOR LINE.
Dalles, Portland & Astoria
Navigation Co.
DALLES BOAT
Leaves Oak Street Dock, Portland
7 A. M.
PORTLAND BOAT
Leaves Dalles 7 A. M. Dally Ex
cept Sunday.
STEAMERS
Regulator, Dalles City, Reliance.
WHITE COLLAR LINE.
The Dalles-Portland Route
Str. "Bailey Gatzert,"
Bslwaaa Portland, The Oal.e and Way Points
TIMS CARP
Leaves Portland Tuesdays, Thnradays and
Saturdays at 5 a. ni. Arrive, The limits, si ma
day. 6 p. m.
Leavea Ths Dalles Bnndsvn, Wednesday! and
Fridays at 7 a. m. Arrives l'orlland, name Hay,
4 p. m.
Thla route has the grandest scenic attraction!
On earth.
- Strm " Tahonta,"
Dally Round Trip-, exeunt Sunday.
TIM K CARD.
Leave rortland...7 a.m. I Leave Astoria.....7a.m.
Landing and office . font of Alder street. Both
'phones, Main Sol, Portland, Or.
E. W. CRrrilTON. Agent, Portland.
JOHN M. FILLOON, Agent. The Hallo.
A. J. TAYLOR, Agen, Antoriii.
J. ('. V YATT, eent, Vancouver.
WOLFOKD & WYEKH, Agla.. White Salmon. '
K. B. GILBKETH. Acent, Lyle, Wash.
PRATHER A BARNES,
Agunta st Hood River
Oregon
Shout Line
and union Pacific
mm.
vTkn fm Hoed mr. A"'T1
Salt Lake, Denver,
Chicago I Ft. orth.Omsha, Portland
Special I Kansas city, 8t. Special
11:26a. m. i Louia,C'htwgoatiJ 2:06 p. m.
East.
Walls Walla twls-
pnVan Uin,Bpokaii,Min- Portland
Flyer neapolla.Ht. pant. Flyer
t.et p.m. Dulmh. ijilttiin- 4:80a.m.
ke,ClilcagoKajt
Salt Lake, Denver,
Wall end Ft. Worth.Omahs, Mail and
Express Kansas City, St. Kxpres
ll;4ip. m. Iouis,Cisluaeoaud k .42 a.m.
Esau
OCEAN AND RIVER SCHEDULE
FROM FOKTLANI.
10 a.m. All aslllng date 4:00 p. a.
subject tu change
For Ban Frsncl
fcail sverr e days
Dally CeHimhla Rlisr i OO p. m.
Ii.H.iunay Staaaairs. Ex. Suudar
:(. m.
faturday To Astoria and Way
Hi:oa p. ni. Laudltica.
Sttem. WIH.Mtia ttvr. 4:80 pm.
Es. Bandar Oreaon City, New. Ex. Sunday
bars. fUIin, Inits
jeudence Waf
i-andtnsa.
7 00 a. m. W!lla Taat- I St p.m.
Tu , Tkur. s4N alters. Hon.,
i &d Frt
Ore on city. Day.
ton, A Wsy Ltud-
In.
4m. Wi:iaart llw. 4m.
. JhM Mon., We4.
ad Bm. Portland ! Oeriat. sad FrL
lis Way Laud-
Jn-
tt. Rlnsrta bkar.1 Eivss. Lv Uwlstoa
i.SSa m. HI par U to Leviatoa t m.
. "F daily
Far lew rat and other Information writs ta
A. L. CRAIQ,
Oeseral Pus ncer Ami. PartUaA r
BAG LET, A (eat, Bh4 Kli.r.