Newspaper Page Text
NOTHING LOST.
No corner is in God’s round world
Where one may hide himself away;
The winds through all its spaces search,
Through all its shadows flits the day.
A wild rose trembling o’er a brook,
In thickest dusk of tangled shade,
Spied by some artist’s eye may charm
The world in hues that never fade.
— Youth's Companion.
Mrs. Trelon’s Trouble.
It was Mrs. Trelon’s custom to break
fast on the wide veranda from the time
spring was fairlv out of swaddling he?
clothes until the autu m n winds blew
back into the house. She was such a
tiny, fragile old lady that a gentle gale ?up
could have wafted her awav, coffee
in hand, but the light breeze that was
stirring her tenderly. one September lifted morning cornfr treated her
It a of
fleecy shawl, it tossed her bright yellow
maple leaf into her lap, and it even vea
tured to take some liberties with her
white hair, but, on the whole, it forbore
to play any impish tricks on the mistress
of the Trelon homestead. She dwelt
alone there; she could not be lured away
by her married daughters to New York
or Newport. She was waiting patiently
for the day when her son should grow
wearv of roaming, and return to step into
his father's shoes Mrs. Trelon loved the
fair domain that she had ruled over for
so many yeais, but she was eager to ab
dicate in favor of her son’s wife. Un
luckily have he had no wife, he did not seem
to any wish to step into his father’s
shoes, or bring a young mistress to the
old homestead. He wandered aimlessly
up and down the world, and the stamps
on the letters be sent to his mother were
as French likely to be Russian or Turkish as
or German.
Mrs. Trelon was quite sure that a let
andfie X* he^ s“ Syes he^co”^
broke her roll strayed down the
fid and ronnd en the great fing
inThefi and he had Sa reduced r r educed ttTsoace the space “Yun of un
shorn grass to the size of a table-c oth,
when the coachman trotted a pursy cob
toward the house. His clean, ruddy face
^andt“AXer^from was one broad smile as he allifriitei M? at the
veranda. A_ letter from Mr. Dick Dick ” he he
n v, 1 , °^ g "
Wk I. ’
London T am - t far away.”
He gave the letter to his mistress, and ,
then pretended to hnd something amiss
with the saddle girth He drew it up
lns tighter, causing the fat cob to and lay he back
ears and nip the empty air; let
it out again meanwhile glancing fur
tlvely at Mrs, Trelon over his shoulder.
She had hardly begun to read the letter
when she gave a soft, involuntary little
“Nothing wrong, ma’am?” said the
wily coachman. I i
“Thomas, he is coming home—Dick
is coming home,” cried Mrs, Trelon,
in a tremor of excitement.
I knew it soon as I set eyes on that
letter,’’said Thomas, who always waited
to hear the news, and always the pretended
to have guessed it from postmark.
“And when will he be here, ma’am?”
“In ten days-the Servia-the 3d of
October—oh, Thomas!” and little Mrs.
Trelon forgot herself so far as to wipe
her eyes on her napkin. She was
ashamed of her weakness, and looked
sternly at Thomas, who mounted his
cob and rode toward the stables, mut
tcring something about Mr. Dick’s
needing new horses. Mrs. Trelon read j
the letter again, the hand that held the
sheet of paper trembling a little, the
eyes that scanned the lines filling with
tears of joy, days,”
“I shall be at home in ten
Dick wrote, “probably on the third of
the month, and you may pray for the
safe passage of the Servia. It will, I
hope, be the last time that I cross the
sea for many a long day. I am tired of i
foreign lands; I am tiled of roaming: I
want to settle down. When a bachelor
says that, it is rather suspicious, cockades I sup- and
pose: it hints at white
orange flowers and the march from Loh
engrin. Perhaps-oh, the world is full
of perhapses' • Shall I confess some
thintr? Duri a or the past two or three
years I have often thought that I was
fooli^h to have run away from home as
I did. Still, I was only a boy. Run
ning away mav have been the wisest
thing to do, for if I had stayed at home
I should have been a boy until I was
haired—at least in the eyes of the
neighbors. They may now rega d me
differently, but I dare say that some will
remind me that day before yesterday I
was Nothing trading marbles and will flying kites. that
but matrimony prove
I am really grown up, and I shall have
to try if a not impossible she may at last
be persuaded to accept my heart and me.
I wonder if my chances are any better
than they were at three-and-twenty? At
that age I was told to go forth and learn
my ovrn mind, and I obeyed. On my
return I shall attempt to show that I
have learned my ow n mind, and learned
it thoroughly.
“There is such comfort in writing to
P u : » like talking to myself; I can
as egottstical as I pka-e. It is nat
ural that I should revert to the past when
thoughts turn homeward. I went
au a J m a b°yi--li P e J : ^ re Y, n Y\ b ?
dxed determination; I . have dnly-dallied
lon S en ° u ?>?- Thls ™- vage ahaI1 CIld a
matt f that has caused me to roam up
and do WI1 the .T° rld > ,k ® a but Pandering
lew - ! T am w " tID ?. bhndl &u J ,TmT
read . between the lines. W hen I think
of seeing my sweet little mother again
the tears came so thick and fast
tba ,. { Ff?‘ Trelon could not read. She
patted the aneet of paper tender y. Mv
dear boy,’- she said ‘ my dear dear
bc^* As she folded the letter to put
;‘ back lato the “ Te, °P®’ a Postscript on
the fourth page caught her eye. _
p ;. s - J met ',°, e Ibnvnk in
, other day, and he told m h 11 .
Mul ' ra y T aa Ter { *™ et on
course, if there had been anything in it,
y°n would have tol me.
8o ; sald Mrs. Trelon lifting her
de . - lca . ‘ e e 3 rabr< "™’ \ nd nodd ' ng “
aftar aU * Ikncwdwa ? \TL
body and it is Emily He might as
well have tolc me on ng t.
febe smiled at her boy s clumsy evasion
as sba re-rca e ’’ er *
Emi He had . , been desperately , . .
was y m
> ove WI th har at ‘^ nt T tb ™’ and
, L^SdfoWl
bad aa
& 11 * fiXTad
refusedlevera! ^^/7 e^elSfi 0 ?’S, , £3
AU the
d k e at leagt all the litt j e wor ia
of , T ln-lnKton . , . kncw-that ,, . Harry Ward
bad offered himself to her and had met
wlth a refusal - Then there was Gem S e
Ler °y too - 0h > Emil * conld have been
rf d had she wis hed, but she was
waitingfor Dick. She had only wanted
testhis devotion. It was like Emily ;
she had romantic tendencies; she would
fain put P her lover to the proof. That
* should have fallen in love with
other was the most natural and de -
. f , w fc in the worldi for the had
g own P id e bT side , an d were play
w hen they' / nd toddled out Trelon of their had
,, arm8 _ if M rs.
s . b . of a daughter, ha ° turned her
heart would fir8t of all e
toward Emily .
The girl who was sharing Mrs.Trelon’s
thoughts with Dick at this juncture
wa, lked swiftly across the lawn. She had
come through a gap m the hedge that
s ^ e au< ^ Dmk haa made years and years
a £°» aa ^ that was always kept open
to admit our friendly ^ intercourse between
the Raynors and Trelons. was a
a tall, stately girl, wjth a fresh face and
large brown eyes* Not handsome, per
ha P s > was Mrs Trelon s comment, but
sweet and wholesome, and a gentle
woman from her crown of chestnut hair
to the tips of her slender feet.
“Good morning,” Emily said, “Ah!
that letter is from Dick; I am sure of it
although ,„ , , I did ... not . so much , as ge a
ghmpse of his handwriting. It is your
^ ace t^ a t tells me. M hat is e goor
news.
is coming home, ” said Mrs. _ Tre
“He
Ion; and she looked at Emily fixedly,
Emily certainly changed color, and her
eyes opened wider.
“Coming home? He i3notilli”
“No. He says he is tired of roaming;
he wants to settle down. ”
Emily bent over and kissed Mrs. Tre
Ion’s brow. “I am so glad for you,’
she said.
“But you will be glad to see him too? ’
asked Mrs. Trelon, plaintively, Dick and I have
“Indeed I shall.
been friends since we were babies.”
“You used to be married to him every
week,” said Mrs. Trelon. “Your broth
er used to act as parson, but be could
not read, and held the prayer-book children up
side down. Oh, Emily, you
were very happy together.” happy chil
“Yes,” said Emily, leaned “as as the
dren could be.” She back in
wicker chair, and looked absently at a
clump of cedars. A pensive smile played
about hsr lips,and an uncalled-for blush
slowly mounted over her cheeks. “It
seems a long time ago,” she went on
after a while. “I am almost twenty-six;
I feel very old.”
“Dick is only four months older,”
said Mrs. Trelon
“Ah, but a woman of twenty-six and
a man of twenty-six 1” Emily exclaimed.
“I dare say he will look upon me as quite
a spinster; he will wonder if I have
thought of the proverbial cat and tea.
He must have made up his mind very
hastily,” she added—“I mean, to return
home.”
“No, I think he acted deliberately;
although I confess he did not write to
me that he had any thoughts of coming
home. He will be here by the 3d.”
“My birthday,” said Emily. ensued.
And then another long pause
Mrs. Trelon could not restrain a smile
when she saw Emily’s earnest, preoccu¬
pied expression. There was a little
wrinkle of anxiety between the girl’s
brows; clearly she was troubled about
something. Mrs. Trelon stretched out
her hand with a tender smile. “My
dear,” don’t you suppose Dick told his
mother?”
“I have often wondered,” said Emily.
“He could not keep it from me,” Mrs.
Trelon continued. “He was very un¬
happy. It hurt him to think who that acted you
looked on him as a mere boy
wholly from impulse. And there is a
stubborn streak in him. Otherwise he
would not have staid away so long; but
he was determined to prove that what
you considered a boyish impulse was a
deep and lasting affection ”
“Oh, he would have fallen love with
any girl who lived next door,” Emily
said. “He has forgotten all that by this
time.”
“I am sure he lias not forgotten; you
will see; you will have to confess that
you misjudged him.”
For a few days Mrs. Trelon was the
Happiest of women, but one afternoon
she saw Emily drive past with Dr. Mur¬
ray, and the sight alarmed her. Dr.
Murray was the friend of all the Raynor
family; he went to their house constantly
to see Mrs. Rayuor, who was an invalid,
but it had not been his custom to drive
Emily out. Could it be possible that
there were grounds for Dick’s suspicion?
He had heard in Paris that Dr. Murray
was a suitor for Emily’s hand, while his
mother living next d 0V v u suddenly j
had heard nothing. was
filled with misgivings, and when she a
second time saw Emily seated beside Dr.
Murray in his trim carriage, she resolved
to learn the truth. Accordingly one
evening she took Dick’s letter and went
to the Raynors’, where she found Emily
on the veranda with the obnoxious,
clever, society-hating little doctor. He
was not so very little, but he was stout,
and middle-aged, and bald—not to bo
compared to a tall, slim man like Dick.
He went away presently, and Mrs. Tre¬
lon, after trying in vain to find out what
she wanted to know without asking a
direct question, finally showed Emly the
postscript to Dick’s letter. “My dear,
what shall I tell him?” she said. *
“I have been engaged to Dr. with Murray
just a week,” Emily answered, per¬
fect composure.
Mrs. Trelon was stunned. She sat si¬
lent for a longtime, holding the letter in
her nerveless fingers. repeated last.
“Just a week,” she at
“Then it was before you knew Dick was
coming home? If you had known—”
“It would have made no difference,”
said Emily, with a soft little laugh.
“Dear Mrs. Trelon, I am very sure Dick
has forgotten his boyish love affair. He
asks about me, of course, for I believe
he will always have the same warm affec¬
tion for me that I shall always have for
him. But he will not break his heart
because Allen Murray is to marry me.
No. no. He will wish me happiness,
and laugh at the amatory episode of his
youth.” will laugh,” said Mrs. Tre¬
I t He not
lon, piteously. “Oh, Emily? how could
you?” could I fall in love with Allen?
“How
Becauss he is the best and noblest and
dearest man in the world, I suppose.
Does anybody know any better reason
for falling in love?” And she laughed looked
again, softly; but Mrs. Trelon
very disconsolate, and was not to be
comforted.
“My poor Dick!” she murmured.
Mrs. Trelon wondered how she should
break the news to ter son. Would he
ask her about Emily forthwith? or would
he learn the truth from Emily’s own lips?
She had not answered this question to
her own satisfaction, she had not laid
out a plan of conduct, when a telegram
came from Dick. He was in New York;
he would be at home that evening. Then
minor considerations were swallowed up
in the great thought of dinner for him.
At last, dressed in a shiramery gray
silk, Mrs. Trelon sat in the drawing¬
room, and awaited her son’s coming in a
sort of stony despair. The carringe
wheels crunched on the gravel, a cherry
voice sang out “All right!” the hall
door opened, and then Mrs. Trelon was
clasped in Dick’s arms. She so bed
helplessly, and he smiled tenderly as he
rebuked her for the weakness that made
him love her the better. He had a thick
mustache now, and there was an author¬
itative air ial; he was a boy no
longer. have not day older,”
“You grown a
he said as he drew his mother’s hand
through his arm and led her to the
dining-room. “This is the place for
people who want to keep young. I
passed Emily Rayner as 1 drove from the
station, and—why, what is it, mother?”
“Nothing, Richard. And how did
Emily look at you?” did when :
“As young and sweet as she
I fell in love with her twenty years ago.”
Mrs. Trelon stifled a sigh. “You
were always fond of Emily.” said,
“And I always shall be,” Dick
“although I thought she treated me
badly once; but she was wi-er than I,
after all. It was quite right of her to
test the love of twenty-three. I shall tell
her that; I shall endeavor to show my
gratitude for her advice. I must go and
see Emily to-morrow, bless her dear
heart 1”
His face softened as he said this, and
pariedina smi’e of perfect happiness.
Mrs. Trelon gathered tell him up her Emily's courage; fate,
she was about to
when Dick suddenly began to talk of his
voyage. “Such delightful run!” tr id. “The
a
ship was crow ded, to be s c and the
beef they gave us was abominable; but
what is beef when the sea and sky smile
at each other, and a man has nothing to
do but to lie on a rug and think of future
bliss? A most entertaining occupation.
I need not tell you; you too have
been in Arcadia, as the poets and novel¬
ists say.” happy that Mrs.
He was so serenely could
Trelon made up her mind that she
not tell him of Emily’s faithlessness.
There had been no promises made, but
he had trusted her, and now—
“Shall we go into the library?” said
Dick, when dinner was over. “I want to
talk to you,” he continued, leading her
into the cherful, book-lined room- “I
don’t suppose I shall surprise you, for if
my letter was blind, it was tell-tale
enough. You could guess, couldn’t
you?” Dick.”
“It was easy to gue-s,
“1 was sure it would be. You see, I
have been in love with her so long, al¬
though I never wrote much about her to
yon.” “That necessary,’’ said Mrs.
was not
Trelon, with a wan smile.
“And then I was not sure whether I
was making the voyage in vain or not,”
Dick went on, “but before Queenstowh
was quite out of sight she rewarded me
for following her across the sea. I have
been chasing her these two years—up
the Nile, down the Rhine, over the caught Alps
and now back to New York. I have
her at last. It is Rose Ammon, old
Judge Ammon’s daughter. You and
her mother used to be great friends.
Here is a photograph of her, but it is a
wretched portrait. You get no idea
from this of her hair and eyes, and as for
the expression about her mouth—”
— Char Lea Dunning, in Harper ’« Weekly.
The first specimen of arciialopteryx,
the fossil link between birds and rep¬
tiles, was discovered in Germauy in I860
and was sold to the British museum for
$3,500. A second specimen, more per¬
fect, was secured a few years ago, and
was finally sold to the Berlin museum for
about $5,000. These fossi's have af¬
forded a strong argument to supporters
of the Dawiniau theory of development.
According to a New York professor,
the common idea that a fly uses its wing wings of
like a bird is a mistake. The
the insects, he says,is comparatively nar¬
row and it makes up for want of expanse
by lateral motion. It does not beat back
and forth in one place, but makes a move¬
ment as if describing the figure 8. The
number of vibrations is 330 a second.
New named postoffices are Ethel, Sa¬
rah, Edith, Eve, May and Violet. There
are also, Wavback, Wildcat, Snorter
ville and Onion.