Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOICES OF THE BELLS. I heard the bolls at dawn of day, Beyond the hills, far blue, “The world is fair,” they seemed to say, “And everywhere the flowers of May Are blossoming for 3-011.'’ Blithe bells of morn! My pulses thrill, For in my heart I hear them still. I heard the bells above 1113' head Clang out at noon again; And “Work, work, work!" they harshly said, “The dewy hours of morn have fled, Toil on, O sons of men!” Discordant bells, that sorely fret The weary soul with cares beset. I heard the bells at eventide The vesper hour chime low; The da3 r was done, and side by side The wean- toilers far and wide All homeward seemed to go. Sweet vesper bells, your tone is best, Morn fled, toil done, and God confessed. —Gussie Packard Du Bois, in Current. DENIS. A STORY FROM THE FRENCH. Monsieur Marambot opened the letter his servant Denis brought him, and smiled. Denis, who had been in his employ for twenty years—a little, jolly, thickset man, who was constantly referred to, through model all the country round, as the very of a valet—queried: ‘ ‘Monsieur is happy? Monsieur has re¬ ceived some good news?” Monsieur Marambot was not rich. He was a bachelor, and had been a village druggist for many years. He now lived on the small revenue made with great dif¬ ficulty by selling medicines to the coun¬ try people. He answered: “Yes, my boy. Old Malois does not want to go into court, and to-morrow I will get my money. Five thousand francs will help an old bachelor along pretty well.” And M. Marambot rubbed his hands together. He was a man of rather re¬ incapable signed character, not particularly joval— fort, and of anything like sustained ef¬ affairs. quite indiff rent about his own living He might by taking easily advantage have made of the a better death of certain fellow-druggists, who had stores well-situated iu large centres, to take one of the vacant businesses and so assure himself of a lucrative custom. But the trouble of moving, and the thought of all the other things he would have to do, always prevented it, and after think¬ ing over the matter for a day or two, he would merely say: “Ah: bah! Nexttime I’ll really think about it. One loses nothing by waiting, anyhow. Perhaps I’ll get a still better chance.” Denis, on the contrary, was always urging his master to attempt something. Naturally energetic, he would declare: “Oh! as for me, if I just had the cap¬ ital to start with, I would have made a fortune. Only a thousand francs, and Fd mike my way soon enough.” M. Marambot smiled without replying, went into his little garden, and walked up and down with his hands behind him, in a re Denis, all day long, sang ballads and country songs, as if he were in an un common ty good humor. He even showed unusual activity; for he cleaned all the window panes in the house, singing at the top of his voice while he wiped the gl ass Astonished - _ at his zeal, M. Marambot said to him several times, with a smile: “If you keep on working like that, my boy, you will have nothing to do to morrow. Next morning, about nine o'clock, the postmaster handed Denis four letters for his master, one of which was very heavy, M. Marambot at once locked himself up in his room, and remained there until late in the afternoon. He then entrust ed his servant with four letters for the post. One or them was addressed to M. Malois; it was, no doubt, an acknow 1 - edgement of money received. Denis asked his master no questions; he seemed to be that day as melancholy and sullen as lie had been merry the evening before. Night came. 31 . Marambot went to bed at his usual hour, and slept. He was awakened by a singular noise. Hesat up at once in his bed and listened, J 5 ut all at once his bedroom door opened, and Denis appeared on the scene,holding a candle in one hand and a kitchen-knife ip the other; his eyes wild and fixed; his Bps compressed as if under the influence of some terrible emotion, and his face $0 pale that he looked like a gho-t. stricken Monsieur Marambot, at first dumb with astonishment, concluded that Denis was walking in his sle<y), and he got up to intercept him, when Denis suddenly blew- out the light and made a rush for the bed. Ilis master instinct¬ ively put out his hands to save himself from the shock of the encounter, which Hung him upon his back, and then lie tried to seize the hands of the domestic, who seemed to have become demented, and who was striking at him with all his might, knife struck him The first blow- of the in the shoulder; the second blow he re¬ ceived in his forehead, the third in his chest. He struggled frantically, putting out his hands in the dark, and kicking out with his feet, shouting: “Denis! Denis!—are you mad? Den¬ is! What are you doing? Denis!” But Denis, panting with his efforts, still kept striking, became more and more furious; sometimes a kick or a blow would fling him back, but he al w-ays rushed on again, wildly. Monsieur Marambot received two more w-ounds— one in the leg and one in the abdomen. But a sudden thought came to him, aud he screamed out: “Stop, Denis, stop! I have not yet got my money!” striking. The man at once stopped him Monsieur Marambot could hear panting in the dark. .r «• M. Marambot spoke again: Malois “I have not yet got a cent. M. has gone back on his word; the case i*8 going before the courts; that is why you took those letters to the post. You had better read the letters lying on mv desk.” And, with a supreme effort, he man¬ aged to get hold of the matches on the table and to strike a light. blood. Jets of He was covered with it had spattered the wall. The sheets, the bed-curtains—everything was red. Denis, also bloody from head to foot, was standing in the middle of the room. When he saw all this, Monsieur Mar¬ ambot thought it was all over with him, and became unconscious. He came to himself again at daylight. It took him some little time to collect liis senses—to "understand—to remember. But suddenly the recollection of the at¬ tempt and the sensation of his wounds came to him, and so intense a fear took possession of him that he shut his eyes so as not to see anything. At the end of a few minutes his terror calmed, and he began to think. He had not died from the blows—therefore he had some chance of living. He felt weak—very weak, but had no violent pain, though he felt a soreness at various points of his body, as of severe pinching. He also felt very chilly, and wet, and compressed, bandages. as if he had been tightly swathed with He thought the humidity must be blood, and a shudder passed through him at the thought of all that red fluid which had issued from his own veins in such quan tity as to wet his bed. The idea of liav ing to see that awful sight again, his com pletely upset him, and he shut eyes as tightly as he could, as if afraid they might open in spite of him. What had become of Denis? He must have run away. But what was he, now going to do? To get up, — and call for help? Why. if he were to make the least movement, all his wounds would certainly break open again, and he would die fromloss of blood. All of a sudden he heard his bedroom pushed open. His heart almost stopped, That was certainly Denis coming back to finish him. He tried to hold his breath so that the murderer would think he was really dead—that the job was thoroughly done. He felt the sheet his pulled off—then felt someone feeling abdomen. A sharp pain near hi- hip made him start. Now he felt somebody washing his wound— very gently—with cold water. There fore, the crime must have been discov ered, and they were attending to his wounds; he was being nursed. A wild joy came on him; but through a linger ing show sense of prudence, he tried not to that he was conscious, and he half opened one eye, only one, with ever so many precautions. Denis beside He recognized standing him—Denis himself! Good Lord! He shuts his eyes again forthwith. Denis! What on earth was he doing? What did he want? What frightful pro ject was he now endeavoring to accom plish? he doing? Why, he What was wa» washing him simply to hide all traces of the crime. And now, perhaps, he would bury him ten feet deep in the garden, so that nobody could ever find him. Or else, piace perhaps, where the in the cellar under -wine the bottles of choice were kept. And M. Marambot began to tremble so much that every limb shook. He thought: “It is all up with me— all up with me!” He shut his eye not to see the last blow- of the knife coming. It did not come. Denis was now lifting him, and binding his wounds with som • linen. Then he begin to bind the wound in the leg, very carefully, as he had learned to do when his master was a druggist. could doubt There be no more in the mind of auy one who knew the business. The servant, after having tried to kill him, was now- trying to save him. Then, in this a dying voice, practical M. Marambot counsel: gave him piece of “The done washing and dressing ought diluted to be w ith carbolic acid and with soap and water.” Denis answered: “That’s what I’m doing, monsieur.” M. Marambot opened blood both his eyes. either There was no trace of now, in the bed or on the wall, or in the room or upon the person of the assassin, The wounded man was lying upon clean white sheets. The two men looked at one another. Finally M. Marambot said, very gently: ii You have committed a crime.” Denis replied: make reparation for it, i i I am trying to promise de¬ monsieur. If you not to nounce me, I will continue to serve you as faithfully as in the past.” Well, it was not the most propitious time to argue with his servant. M. Mar¬ ambot, as he closed liis eyes again artic¬ ulated: “I swear to you that I will never de¬ nounce you.” He passed Denis saved his master. whole nights and days without sleep, never leaving the patient’s room a medi¬ mo¬ ment—preparing lotions, mixing cines, giving doses, feeling his master’s pulse, counting it anxiously—managing the ease with the sklil of a professional nurse and the devotion of a son. Every minute or two he would asked: “Well, monsieur, how do you feel now ?” Monsieur Marambot would reply, fee¬ bly: “A little better, my boy, thank you.” And often, when the wounded man ►woke in the night, be would see his curse weeping silently, as he sat in his arm-chair by the bed, and wiping his eyes. his had old druggist Never in life the l^en so well cared for—so much petted and caressed. At first lie said to him¬ self, “Just so soon as I get well, I’ll get rid of the rascal.” But when he was fully convalescent he day kept putting day. off the man’s dismissal from to He thought to himself that no (4her person would ever show' him so much at¬ tention or bestow upon him so much care. He had a hold on the man now— could control him by fear—and even he told him that he had made a will and de posited it with a notary, in which will was a statement denouncing Denis in case should occur. This precaution seemed to assure him against auy further attempt on his life; and then he began to ask himself whether it would not be better to keep the man anyhow, as he could thus keep a better watch over his future actio n s He found it as impossible to makeup his mind about this matter, as he had found it formerly impossible to decide whether to open a drug enough store or not. “Well, there’s time to think about that,” he would say to himself. Meanwhile Denis continued to show himself to be a perfect domestic. M. Marambot got well. He kept Denis. But one morning, just as he had fin ished breakfast, he suddenly heart 1 a great noise in the kitchen. He ran thither, and saw Denis struggling in the grasp of two gendarmes. One of the officers began to take notes in a note-book. As soon as he saw his master, the ser vant sobbed out: “You denounced me monsieur!—after all your promises! That is not right. You broke your word of honor. M. Ma rambot!—that was not right!—that was not right?*’ Marambot,utterly astounded, Monsieur and greatly pained at being suspected, lifted up his hand, and said: “I swear to you, before God, my boy, that I never denounced you. I have not even got the faintest idea how these police men ever heard of the attempt to murder me tM 1 The one who was taking notes, gave a start: “What! you say he tried to murder you, M. Marambot?” More and more confused, the druggist answered: him—never “Why, yes—but I never denounced said a word about it—I swear I never said a word—He served me very well ever since. ” The officer severely replied: i . I note down your statement. Justice will take full cognizance of this new fact, which was not known to us before, Mon¬ sieur Marambot. I was simply ordered to arrest your servant for stealing two ducks from Monsieur Duhamel; we have wit¬ nesses to prove th - theft. Sorry, Monsieur Marambot; I shall testify to what you have just said.” Then turning to the gendarmes, ho said: “Takehim along,” They took Denis along. The attorney for the defendant entered a plea charges of insanity—using the two differ¬ ent to make a case for his client. He ducks proved clearly that the performed theft of the two must have been in the same mental condition which caused the eight knife-stabs to have been in¬ flicted upon M. Marambot. lie made a very tine analysis of all the different which, phases of this mental aberration, yield lie felt sure, he said, would to a few week’s judicious medical treatment in a good private asylum. He spoke de¬ en¬ thusiastically of the continuous self votion of this honest servant—the un¬ ceasing care lie had bestowed upon the employer he had wounded in a moment of mental aberration. Monsieur the Marambot, painfully of that im¬ pressed by awful rise recollection his night, felt the tears to it—spread eyes. The shrewd lawyer noticed out his arms witli a great gesture, waved the long black sleeves of his robe like bats’ wings, and vociferated in a sonorous tone : 41 Look! look! look! gentlemen of the jury!—look at those tears! What more need I now say in behalf of my client ? What argument, what discourse, what rea¬ soning could weigh against the ev idence of those tears of his own master ? Those tears plead louder than 1113' voice—they plead louder than the voice of the law— they cry out for pardon for the madness of a moment! They impolore; they ab¬ solve; they bless!” He held his peace, and sat down. Turning to Marambot, whose testi¬ mony had been all in favor of Denis, the Judge asked: “But in any event, sir—even admit¬ ting that you believe understand this man to be in¬ sane—I cannot your reason for keeping him in your employ. Ho was, under all circumstances, dangerous.” Marambot replied, wiping his eyes; “What else could I do, your Honor?— it is so hard to find servants nowadays. I might have found worse.” Denis was acquitted and sent to an insane asylum, at his master’s expense.— Nnn Orleans Times-Democrat. * Buying A Suit of ( lollies. Fogg was going to buy a new suit, and Mrs. F. very kindly offered to accompany him. Arrived at the store a salesman approached with his business smirk. “I want a suit of clothes,” said Fogg nb ruptly. Mrs. F.—“Something not replied too expensive, you know.’’ “Yes'rn" the salesman, turning his attention to the lady and utterly ignoring Fog«_ r . M:s. F. (examining cloth)—“Do you think this —“Admirably! will match his complexion?'' Couldn’t suit it Sale-mi better.’’ ni Mrs. F. — “Do you think so? IIow fortu nate. I’m sure But won't this fade?" Salesman—“Not a particle. I wore one like it five years, and it didn't change color in the lea-t.” Mrs. F.—“And will it wash?” Salesman—“Perfectly." Mrs. F.—“Well, you may cut off a sample, What else have you?” The same cate chistn is repeated half a score of times. and the Foggsretire; Mrs. F. radiant, as one should be who has done a great work, and Fogg, looking sour, sad and discontented. Mrs. F. (on the street)— “Now, David, I ll take these home and wash’em out. so s to be sure the colors are fast, and then I II take them over to Mrs. Brown's and see what she says. She's a great judge, you know, And if she likes them, and aunt Kate thinks they'll be becoming, and Mrs. Black says they aren’t too young for you, we will come again and decide.''— Boston Tran script. Pleasant for Duniley. “Come up to the house, Dumley," said lobinson, “and take dinner with me. “Will Mrs. Kobinson expect me?” “No, that's the beauty of it. Her mother is paying us a long visit, and I want to make the old lady mad .’—Neut York Sun.