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- r ,r xwr.&*e%r*nMr nmr A'lEan,
!fiA rms I
\ me Woman!
I-" j-i. j-'.- "•.*•■'•;■.•' ’^'fwwwn*w;i' ■' ■—:-V/.:-.-.l
r By Harold M&ccGrath V
fcssft Copwght, i°oo
®*y Harold MacGrath. :■ -.;‘-‘--j-V: ; ':
r chatter i.
Thi* first time I met her I was a re
porter in the embryonic state and she
was a girl in short dresses. It was in
a garden surrounded by high red briek
walls which were half hidden by dus
ters of green vines and at the base of
which nestled earth beds radiant with
roses and poppies and peonies and
bushes of lavender lilacs, all spilling
their delicate ambrosia on the mild air
of passing May. I stood, straw hat in
hand, wondering if 1 had not stumbled
into some sweet prison of flowers
which, having run disobedient ways in
the past, had been placed la re by Flo- ;
ra and forever denied their native i
meadows and wildernesses. And this '
vision of fresh youth in my path, per- [
haps she was some guardian nymph. I
was only 22, a most impressionable
age. Her hair was like that rare Oc- j
tober brown, half dun, half gold; her
eyes were cool and restful, like the !
brown pools one sees In the heart of
the forests, and her lips and cheeks
cozened the warm vermilion of the
rose which lay ever so lightly on the ;
bosom of her white dress. Close at j
hand was a table upon which stood a '
pitcher of lemonade. She was holding |
in her hand an empty glass. As my j
eyes encountered her calm, inquiring |
gaze my courage# fled precipitately, j
likewise the object of my errand. I
There was a pause; diflidence and em
barrassment on my side, placidity on
hers.
“Well, sir?” said she In a voice the
tone of which Implied that she could
readily understand her presence In the
garden, but not mine.
As I remember it, I was suddenly
seized with a great thirst. “I should
like a glass of your lemonade,” I an- |
swered. bravely laying down the only j
piece of money I possessed. Her stern j
lips parted in n smile, and my courage j
came back cautiously—that Is to say,
by degrees. She filled a glass for me,
and us I gulped it down I could al
most detect the flavor of lemon and
sugar.
“It is very good.” I volunteered, pass
ing back the glass. I held out my
hand, smiling.
“There Isn't any change,” coolly.
1 flushed painfully. It was fully four
miles to Newspaper row. I was con
scious of a sullen pride. Presently the
object of irv errand returned Some
what down the p;.:b 1 saw a gentleman
reclining In a canvas swing. “Is that
Mr. Y'entvorth?” I asked.
“Yes. Do you wish to speak to him?
Uncle Bob, here is a gentleman who
desires to speak to you.”
I approached. “Mr. Wentworth,” I
began, cracking the straw In my hat.
“my name is John Winthrop. lam a
reporter. 1 have called to see if It is true
that you have declined the Italian port
folio.”
”lt is true,” he replied kindly. “There
are any number of reasons for my de
clining it, but I cannot make them pub
lic. is that all?”
“Yes, sir; tbauk you,” and I backed
away.
“Are you a reporter?” asked the girl
as I was about to pass by her.
“Yes. I am.”
“Do you draw pictures?”
“No, I do not.”
“Do you write novels?”
“No,” with a nervous laugh.
There is nothing like the process of
interrogation to make one person lose
interest in another.
“Oh, I thought perhaps you did,” she
said and turned her back to me. I
passed through the darkened halls of
the house and into the street. I never
expected to see her again, but it was
otherwise ordained. We came together
three years later at Block Islaud. She
was 18 now, gathering the rosy flowers
of her first season. She remembered
the incident In the garden, and we
laughed over it. A few dances, two or
three evenings on the verandas watch
ing the sea, moonlit, as it sprawled
among the rocks below us, and the
even tenor of my way ceased to be. I
appreciated bow far she was above me,
so I worshiped her silently and from
afar. I told her my ambitions, confi
dences so welcome to feminine ears,
and she rewarded me with a srnail ex
change. She, too, was an orphan and
lived with her uncle, a rich banker,
who as a diversion consented to repre
sent his country at foreign courts. Her
given name was Phyllis. I had seen
the name a thousand times in print;
the poets had idealized it and the nov
elists had embalmed It in tender
phrases.
It was the first time I had ever met
a woman of the name of Phyllis. It
appealed to my poetic instinct. Per
haps that was the cause of It all. And
then she wtps very beautiful. In the
autumn of that year we became great
friends, and through her influence I
began to see beyond the portals of the
mansions of the rich. Matthew Prior’s
Cbloes and Sir John Suckling’s Eupbe
lias lost their charms. Henceforth my
muse's name became Phyllis. I took
her to the opera when I didn’t know
where I was going to breakfast on the
morrow. I sent her roses and went
without tobacco, a privation of which
Woman knows nothing. Often I was
plunged Into despair at my distressed
circumstances. Money to her meant
something to spend; to me It meant
something to get Her Income bother
ed her because she could not spend tt;
my income was mortgaged a week fa
advance and did not bother me at uIL
This was the barrier at mj lips. But
her woman’s Intuition must have told
her that she was a part and parcel of
my existence.
1 had what is called a forlorn hope—
a rich uncle who was a planter In Lou
isiana. His son and I were his only
heirs. But this old planter had a mor
tal antipathy to my side of the family.
When my mother, his sister, married
Alfred Winthrop In 1850, at the time
when the north and south were ap
proaching the precipice of a civil war,
he considered all family ties obliterat
ed. We never worried much about It
When mother died, he softened to the
extent of being present at the funeral.
He took small notice of my father, but
offered to adopt me if I would assume
his name. I clasped my father’s hand
in mine and said nothing. The old
man stared at me for a moment, then
left the house. That was the first and
last time 1 ever saw him. Sometimes i
wondered if he would remember me In
his will. This, of course, was only
when I had taken Phyllis somwhere
or when some creditor had lost pa
tience.
One morning in January, five years
after my second meeting with Phyllis,
1 sat at my desk In the office. It was
raining, a cold thin rain. The window
was blurred. The water In the steam
pipes went banging away. I was com
posing an editorial which treated the
diplomatic relations between this coun
try and England. The roar of Park
row distracted me. Now and then I
would go to the window and peer down
on the living stream below. A dense
cloud of steam hung over all the city.
I swore some when the copy boy came
in and said that there were yet a col
umn and a half to fill and that the
foreman wanted to “close up the page
early.” The true cause of my Indispo
sition was due to the rumors rife In the
office that morning. Rumors which
emanate from the managing editor’s
room are usually of the sort which bur
den the subordinate ones with anxiety.
The London correspondent was "going
to pieces.” lie had cabled that he was
Buffering from nervous prostration,
supplementing a request for a two
months’ leave of absence. For “nerv
ous prostration” we read “drink.” Our
London correspondent was a brilliant
journalist. He had written one or two
clever books. He had a broad knowl
edge of men and affairs, and his pen
was one of those which flashed and
burned at frequent intervals, but he
drank. Dan's father had been a vic
tim of the habit. I remember meeting
the elder Hlllars. He was a pictur
esque individual, an accomplished
scholar, a wide traveler, a diplomatist
and a noted war correspondent. His
work during the Franeo-Prussian war
had placed him in the front rank. Aft
w sending his son Dan to college he
took no further notice of him. He was
killed while serving Ids paper at the
siege of Alexandria. Dan naturally
followed Ids father’s footsteps both in
profession and In habits. He bad been
my classmate at college, and no one
knew him better than I except It was
himself. The love of adventure and
drink had ended the life of the one. It
might end the life of the other.
The foreman in the composing room
waited for some time for that required
column and a half of editorial copy. I
lit my pipe, and iny thoughts ran back
to the old days, to the many times Dan
had paid my debts aud to the many
times I had paid his. Ah, mo! Those
were days when love and fume and
riches were elusive, and we went in
mSk
The copy hoy said there were yet a column
and a half to JUI.
quest of them. The crust Is hyssop
when the heart is young. The garret
Is a palace when hope flies unfettered.
The most wonderful dreams imagina
ble are dreamed dose to the eaves.
And when a man leaves behind him
the garret he also leaves behind the
fondest illusions. But who —who would
stay in the garret?
And as my thoughts ran on the ques
tion rose. Whom would they send in
his place—Dan’s? I knew London. It
was familiar ground. Perhaps they
might send me. It was this thought
which unsettled me. 1 was perfectly
satisfied with New York. Phyllis lived
in New York. There would be time
enough for Ix>ndon when we were mar
ried. Then I began to build air cas
tles. A. newspaper man is the archi
tect of some splendid structures, but
he thoughtlessly bulb's on the sand [
when the tide is out. Yes; foreign cor
responding would be all well enough, I
mused, with Phyllis at my side. With
her e.-t my wife 1 should have tut- envy
of all my fellow craftsmen \Yr> should
dme at the embassies, and the attaches
would flutter about us, and all London j
would talk of the beautiful "Mrs. Win- j
throp.” Then the tire in my pipe bowl
went out. The copy boy waa at my el
bow aguin.
“Hang you!” said 1.
“The foreman says he’s coming down
with an ax,” replied the boy.
It was like churning, but I did man
age to grind the copy. I was satisfied
that the United States and Great Brit
ain would not go to war over it
Tha late afternoon mall brought two
Utter*. I opened the one from Phyllis
first It Mid:
5w jauk—ufi#U Bob has a box for the opera
tonight, hot h* haa been suddenly called to Wash-
WigU-D- politics, possibly, but he would not *y.
Aunty and I want you to go with u in his stead.
Ethel and her fiance, Mr Holland, will be to
gether, wMeh means that aunty and I will hs
no one to talk to unless you corns. “Carmen" is
to be sung. Please do not tail me. Phyllis.
Fail her! I thought not.
Then I read the second letter. I
read It three or four times, and even
then I was not sure that I was not
dreaming. 1 caught up my pipe again,
filled It and lit It. I read the letter
once more. I was solemnly informed
that my uncle was dead and that I
was mentioned In the will aud that if
I would Idudly call at the Iloffmau
House the following morning a certain
sum of money would lie given to me.
I regretted that 1 bad reached that age
when a man's actions must be digni
fied all hough alone; otherwise I dare
say I should have danced the pas seul.
Whatever my uncle’s bequest might
be, I believed that It would make me
independeutly rich. Phyllis was scarce
ly an arm’s length away now. I whis
tled as 1 locked up my desk and pro
ceeded down stairs and sang a siren
song into the waxen ears of the cashier.
“You have only twenty coming this
week, Mr. Winthrop.” said he.
“Never mind,” I replied. “I’ll man
age to get along next week.” It was
only on very rare occasions that I drew
my full pay at the end of the week. I
dined at a fashionable restaurant. As
I sipped my wine I built one of my
castles, and Phyllis reigned therein.
There would be a trip to Europe every
summer, and I should devote my time
to writiug novels. My picture would
be the frontispiece in the book reviews,
and wayside paragraphs would tell of
the enormous royalties my publishers
were paying me. I took some old en
velopes from my pocket and began fig
uring on the backs of them as to what
purposes the money should be put. It
could not be less than $50,000, perhaps
more. Of course my uncle had given
a harbor to a grudge against me and
mine, but such things are always for
gotten on the deathbed. Fortune, hav
ing buffeted me. was now going to
make me one of her favorite children.
I had reached the end of the long lane.
As I left the restaurant 1 decided to
acquaint Phyllis with my good luck
aud also my desire that she should
share of it. I turned into a florist's and
had a dozen roses sent up to her. They
were American Beauties, I could af
ford it now.
I found Phyllis thrumming on the
piano. She was singing in a low voice
the aria from “Lucia.” 1 stood on the
threshold of the drawing room aud
waited till she had done. I believed
her to be unaware of my presence.
She was what we poets cal! a “dream
of loveliness,” a tangible dream. Her
neck and shoulders were like satin, and
the head above them reminded me of
Sappho's which we see in marble.
From where I stood I could catch a
glimpse of the profile, the nose and
firm chin, the exquisite mouth, to kiss
which 1 would gladly have given up
any number of fortunes. The cheek
had that delicate curve of a rose leaf,
and when the warm blood surged into
It there was a color as matchless as
that of a jack rose. Ah, but 1 loved
her! Suddenly the music ceased.
“There is a mirror over the piano,
Jack,” she said without turning her
head.
So I crossed the room and sat down
In the chair nearest her. I vaguely
wondered If at the distance she had
seen the love in my eyes when 1
thought myself unobserved.
“I thank you for those lovely roses,”
she said, smiling and permitting me to
press her hand.
“Don’t mention It,” 1 replied. It is
so difficult for a man to say original
things In the presence of the woman
he loves. “I have great news for you.
It reads like a fairy tale, you kuow;
happy ever afterward, and all that.”
“Ah!”
“Yes. Do you remember my telling
you of a rich uncle who lived in the
south?”
“Is it possible that he has left you a
fortune?” she cried, her eyes shining.
“You have guessed It.”
“I am very glad for your sake, Jack.
I was beginning to worry about you.”
“Worry about me?”
“Yes. I do not understand how a
newspaper man can afford to buy roses
four or five times a week—aud exist.”
She had the habit of being blunt and
frank to her Intimate friends. I se
cretly considered It an honor when
she talked to me like this. "I have
told you repeatedly to send me flowers
only once a week. I’d rather not have
them at all. Last week you spent as
much as S3O on roses alone. Mr. Hol
land does not do that for Ethel, and he
has a million.”
“I’m not Holland,” I said. “He
doesn’t—that Is—l do not think he”—
Then 1 foundered. I had almost said,
“He doesn’t care as much for Ethel as
I do for you.”
Phyllis protended not to note my em
barrassment The others came In then,
and conversation streamed into safer
channels.
When we entered the box at the op
era. the curtain had risen. Phyllis and
De~*. _ ITO B CONTINUED. J, j
GROWING EAR _DRUIVIS.
Remarkable Surgical Feat Under- j
taken Upon Miss Rockefeller, j
Cleveland, 0.. Dec. 6.—That the i
foremost specialists of Europe are!
growing new ear drums for Miss
Alta Rockefeller, the daughter of
John D. Rockefeller, is the remark
able statement made in a letter
from a young medical student now
in Vienna to his family in this city.
He says:
One of the most astonishing med
ical cases here is thatof Miss Rock
efeller. She is being treated by
one of the greatest doctors in the
wond. They tell us here that the
surgeons are growing diaphragms
—ear drums—in the girl’s ears.
Such a feat has only been accom
plished once or twice before and
the whole thing was kept a pro
found secret here. Miss Rockefel
ler’s defect of hearing resulted from
an attack of scarlet fever years ago.
As she grew older the trouble in
creased until she was almost stone
deaf. It is said that one new ear
drum has been practically grown
and the other is well under way.
<9
This signature is on every box of the genuine
Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets
the remedy that cux-cs a cold hi one day
How to Cure Croup.
Mr. R. Gray, who lives near
Amenia, Duchess county, N. Y.,
says: “Chamberlain’s Cough Rem
edy is the best medicine I have
ever used. It is a fin ■ children’s
remedy for croup and never fails
to cure.” When given as soon as
child becomes hoarse, or even after
the croupy cough has developed,
it will prevent the attack. This
should he borne in mind and a bot
tle of the Cough Remedy kept at
hand ready for instant use as soon
as these symptoms appear, For
sale by Hall & Greene, Druggists.
To Consecrate the Century-
Washington, Dec. 2. —Archbish-
op Martinelli, the apostolic dele
gate, will participate at the services
to be held at St. Patrick’s church,
in this city at midnight on Decem
ber 31 to consecrate the new cen
tury to God.
A year ago the Pope gave a spec
ial permission, with a view to wide
exercise of the privilege, to sing a
solemn mass at midnight of De
cember 31 of last year, to conse
crate the closing ye r of the cen
century and to repeat it on Decem
ber 31, next, at the same hour for
consecrating the entire new cen
tury. The ceremony, like that of
a year ago, is expected to be an un
usually brilliant one, and most of
the bishops throughout the coun
try probably will hold similar sol
emn services.
No one can reasonably hope for
good health unless his bowels move
one each day. When this is not at
tended to, disorders of the stomach
arise, biliousness, headache, dispep
sia and piles soon follow. If you
wish to avoid these ailments keep
your bowels regular by taking
Chamberlain’s Stomach and Liver
Tablets when required. They are
so easy to take and mild and gentle
in effect. For sale by Hall &
Greene.
VOLUNTEER CAMPS-
Troops From Phlillppines Will Be
Sent to Chlckamauera Park.
.Chattanooga, Dec. 3. —It has
developed that the recent visit of
Gen. John R. Brooke, commander
of the department of the east, Gen.
G. Gillespie and H. V. Boynton to
Chickamauga Park means that
about 4,000 troops will be located
at that place on their return from
the Philippines next spring.
While at the park these army
officials examined sites for camps
and practically decided upon them.
Gen. Brook stated that it was his
intention to put about four regi
ments of soldiers in Chickamauga
to be scattered about the park at
different camps. These troops
will be located here preparatory to
being mustered out.
OASTOniA.
Bears the The Kind Ymi Have Always Bought
Story of a Slave.
To be bound hand and foot for
years by the chains of disease in
the w >rst form of slavery. George
D. Williams, of Manchester, Mich,
tells how such a slave was made
free. He says: “My wife has been
so helpless for five years that she
could not turn over in bed alone.
After using two bottles of Electric
Bitters,she is wonderfully improved
and able to do her own work.” This
supreme remedy for female dis
ease quickly cures nervousness,
sleeplessness, melancholy, head
ache, backache, fainting and dizzy
spells. This miracle working med
icine is a godsend to weak, sickly,
rundown people. Every bottle
guaranteed. O'llv 50 cents. Sold
by Young Bros., Druggist.
There is no end of
Old V lrgima
Cheroots
to waste, as there is no finished end to
cut off and throw away. When you
buy three Old Virginia Cheroots for
five cents, you have more to smoke,
and of better quality, than you have
when you pay fifteen cents for three
Five Cent cigars.
Three hundred million Old Virginii Cheroots smoked this
year. Ask your own dealer. Price, 3 for 5 cents. 4
; . r ,; ' „ *
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Jeweler and Optician.
• IWS: LOWEST PRICES. *
Repairing Watches, Clocks, Jewelry at L3 vest Poes
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