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TOL' IX -V DREAM.
(^s madness and folly!” And as
I Blair gave utterance to tin's exela
b. he brought his hand down upon
sk with tremendous force.
young man in his excitement rose
#iis chair and paced the floor of his
node a fool of myself,” lie said bit
|‘IIer aeiice, 0 in I am, little a young country lawyer, town, with- and
a
fc hope of bettering my condition,
d of waiting patiently for something
a up L have had tlie audacity to fall
i with the wealthiest heiress in the
and to-night I forever disgraced
r by asking her to marry me. To
I am to see her father. There
but one result. Mr. Howard is a
He will ask me about my
and my prospects. Well, I have
in my pocket and I owe $500.
gentleman will regard me as a
hunter and request me to discon
■prill Mr. be useless,” Howard that he said, I will “to wait tell for a
He will simply show me
''and all will be over.”
young fellow’s frank and manly
a look of pained embarrassment.
taken a leap in the dark and was
regretting his hasty action.
clock struck the hour of mid
Biair retired to his chamber ad
oilice, and made an attempt to
his trouble.
some time he was wide awake. His
and his brain was in a whirl.
he fell into a feverish and dis
slumber.
he course of the night a strange
Just how it happened he
understand, but he had a late visi
■o introduced himself as a lawyer
*ndon.
s! ranger, made profuse apologies for
visit.
-. Blair,” he said, “I will not detain
Hfch any preliminaries. You are the
the estate of John Blair, one of
!uncles who ran away from home
mere boy, and settled in Liver
. ,Ypur unole was remarkably lucky.
if:’t leave in half an hour for New
dbelaid, “but and yon may then expect the me
l a week or so, neccs
ffciugements will be of completed for
in possession your inherit
i this the strange visitor vanished,
dic.n Blair, as he raised himself on
and looked about the room,
.'4 Whether he was awake or
is the chair the man sat in. I re
J was still a little feverish, with a
fullness in his head, but a glance
! mirror showed that he was looking
\ tlly Well.
thin -4 startled him not a little in
of tiie morning. After a brief
one of the bankers of the
c walked out on the street with
: hi j pocket
hden du Vit struck him as he reached
-A\ilk. Had he made a mistake i.i
banker uf his good fortune? If
r»ic ling was only a dream, as he
•. ies suspected, he hud doue a very
aw!" he said to himself, “I am
id nervous. How can it be a
and later in the day when he saw Mr.
Howard his manner was well calculated
to impress the millionaire. He told'the
K rSCd SitoK
man in tlie wide wirld would suit him
better as a son-in-law.
A week himklf passed away limi delightfully. Blair
found mosjtf the of the town, but he
spent his leisure time with his
alii ni ■ 1
One morning the young lawyer arose.
con! and clear headed, without a trace of
fever, lie looked bpek upon the events
of the past week in amazement. lie no
longer had any belief in in visit of the
man from Loudon. It was a dream, and
notl'iurelse •I'-mi
in a disgraceful fix'” he groaned
ti I have lied to Mr. Howard and to Alice.
I have borrowed money under false pro
tenses. Noshing will over convi-ce peo
pie that I am not a swindler.”
As the davs rolled on. ,1 ulian grew thin
anil pale. He could not bring himself to
the point of a confession to Mr. Howard
and Alice. Then. too. some of his obli
nations were coming due. There was ap
patently no way out of the trouble. The
thought of suicide took possession of his
mind, and he began ° to nerve himself for
tne ace , v
.
* * * * * *
The card in Julian’s hand bore the ad¬
dress of Henry Morlev, solicitor, Middle
Temple, London, and as tlie owner of tho
card was ushered into the oilice, the young
lawyer looked at him in blank surprise.
It did not take long for Mr. Morley to
state his business.
“My young friend,” he said, rather
pompously, “it is a genuine pleasure to
me to be the bearer of good tidings. I
have been two weeks in the country look¬
ing you up. Your uncle, John Blair, died
recently in Liverpool, where he left a
large estate, and there is a cool half mil¬
lion for you.”
4 i Is it another dream,” whispered Ju
lian.
“I don’t understand.’'’ said the English¬
man, somewhat mystified. “This is no
dream; it is business.”
Then he went on in his matter of fact
way to make everything clear.
i l You have never called on me before,
have you?” asked Julian.
“Certainly not,” replied the visitor; “I
have just found you, and it was no easy
matter, I can tell you.”
L 4 All this is very hard for me to be¬
lieve, ” replied Julian, “and it will take
time to convince me of its reality.”
“Well, money ought to be tangible
enough,” said the lawyer. “If you feel
like drawing for a few thousand now I’ll
arrange it for you.”
Such a proposition was not to be re¬
fused, and in the course of the day Julian
had $10,000 to his credit in the bank.
And then he brok? down under the
strain. For long weeks he lay either un
! conscious or delirious, and the watchers
by his bedside wondered at his talk.
“His good luck turned liis brain for
the time,” said old Mr. Howard.
And this was the view people took of
the case. The sober business men of the
town refused to believe that a penniless
young man, with nothing to back him
hilt a dream, had secured almost unlim¬
ited credit and a rich heiress in the bar
gain. way,” said
••Dreams don’t pan out that
i one of*them, and this was the general
opinion. tricks his
But Julian, warned by the
imagination had played him, lost no time
in obtaining his legacy and converting it
into substantial investments.
When this was done he led sweet Alice
Howard to the altar.
Once he said to her that he was indebted
to a dream for his greatest misery and his
greatest happi % ess. induced
This was all that he could be to
say.
He had passed through a terrible crisis,
and during the remainder of his life his
greatest desire was to forget all about it.—
Wallace P. Reed in Atlanta Constitution.
Gole mine all ’roun’ e yer des dig deep
’nough for to find hit; leastways, ye’ll git
er crap ’er ’taters whilst yez look fur de
mine.
A firm of dentists lu London advertise
that they will purchase old nets of arti
ficial teeth.
> A FAIRY TALE.
A vagaboml, with bare foot and ha.,
„ floating on the whnd, passed alon @ the
! s,reet before the P“>?“ of tbe k '“f »«
wits tei> >otmg and ter> beautiful, , , with
! g° ld ?" c " r * 9 ;, Rreat Mack eyes and 8
mouth ns liesh as a rose after the tain,
As if the sun took pleasure In shining
upon him he had more light and Joy upon
, hls than the noble dames and gentle
™*»
! men grouped m the court of honor had ;
upon their satins, brocades and yelv-ets
j “Oh but she is beautiful " cried he,
i suddenly stopping before the palace,
j in where tlie he ttir saw al her the window. Princess Rosalind And really tak- i
S
1 was ImpossiMk to lind anything on earth
; »“» beau ■ Ml than the princess,
Immovable, with his arms raised to
™ r >* tbc bltt, f- a *' f to «“ opening Inm
* he heavens where they entered ...to Para
d.se, lie stood there, and would have re
s <> “» '“ght if theguards hml not
c based him away with their halberds and
then hardivvonls.
He ' v ™ 1 w, b bent he « d " nd ,a, ter.ng
«»*!»• , Everything was dark before f and
"round , h;m-the sky the trees, the
flowers—since he could no longer see
Rosalind. lie thought the sun was dead.
He sat down under an oak at the entrance
to the wood and began to cry.
t k Why are you so unhappy, my child?”
asked an old woman who came out of the
forest, her back bent under a load of dried
fagots. tell
i i What good would it do to you, my
good J^ woman? You cat. do nothing for
e ,,
‘‘May be you deceive yourself,” said the
hag. At the same time she arose and
threw off her load of fagots. She was no
longer un old woman, but a most beuuti
fill fairy, dressed in a robe of silver, her
hair wreathed with flowers and precious
stones and her voice sweeter than the song
of the birdy
( i Oh, good fairy," kfiees, cried the vagabond,
falling on his ‘‘have pity on my
misfortune 1 1 have seen the daughter of
the king standing at her window and my
heart is no longer my own. 1 feel that 1
can love no other woman. ”
“Good!" said the fairy, "but that Is not !
such a dreadful misfortune.”
% i It is for me, for I shall die If I do not
become the husband of the princess.”
“Well, what prevents your becoming j 1
her husband? She is not betrothed to any
,,
“Oh, raadame, look at my rags, at my
hare feet. I am but a poor beggar of the
streets.
“No matter; that is no reason you !
should not be loved—even devotedly loved.
Make a wish and it shall be fulfilled. 11
“I wish to be tlie most powerful prince
on the earth, so that I can marry the
princess that I adore.”
11 So bo it,” said thc fairy with a sigh:
“I only hope you may be happy.” Then
with h golden rod she touched him on the
shoulder and straightway the beggar was
changed into a magnificent prince, daz¬
zling in silk and jewels and mounted on a
splend, 1 charge.* u th * l oad (if a troop of
plumed courtiers ai d w; rriprs wit t golden
armor and trumpeters proclaiming his
rank.
So great ;ij& n prince is always well re
ceived at court. Thc lather of Rosa
lind treated him with most distinguished j
consideration. For a whole week bails
and fetes of every kind were gotten up in ;
his honor; hut he cared nothing for all
*
these pleasures. the night he
Every hour of the dav and
thought of Rosalind. When he saw her
be felt his heart, overflow with delight;
when he heard her speak he thought he
listened to the music of the angels; and
— nee, when she gave him her hand in the
■—> _ ance, he came near swooning outright. i !
Yet there was one thing which troubled
him; she whom he loved so dearly did not
.•ippear to take the least notice of his devo
lion; she was nearly always silent and
melancholy. Nevertheless he persisted in
the demand he had made upon the king j
and queen for her hand, and you may be
sure the royal parents took good care not ;
to refuse so desirable a husband for her.
And thus the vagabond that was waa
about to marry the most beautiful princess ;
in the world. So great was his happiness,
so wild his delight when the king gave
his consent that he indulged, in the most .
1
extravagant, capers, little In keeping with
the dignity of his rank, and with trifling
encouragement he would have danced the
can-can all alone, in the presence of the
whole court.
Alas, this great joy was of short dura¬
tion! On pain of disobeying the royal and
paternal will, Rosalind one day fell faint
ing into the arms of her maids of honor,
ami when she revived declared with sobs,
and wringing her hands, that she would
never marry—that she would kill herself
before she would marry the prince.
More desperate than one is able to ex¬
press, the unhappy lover—in spite of eti¬
quette—rushed to the chamber where
they had carried the princess, fell upon
his knees, and extending his arms toward
her, cried: “Cruel one, take back those
words which kill me?”
Slowly opening her eyes, she languidly,
but firmly, replied:
“Prince, nothing can overcome my res¬
olution—I will never marry you.”
“What! You have the barbarity to tear
a heart that is all yours! What crime
have I committed to merit such punish¬
ment? Do you doubt my love for you?
Do you fear that I shall cease to adore
you? Ah, if you could only read my
heart, you would no longer have any
doubts or fears; and if you cannot be
moved by my entreaties, I will find a way
to remedy my woes. Give me hope,
princess, or I shall die here at your feet.”
He was carried away by his love, and
said anything and everything that the
most violent grief could inspire in a break
ing heart,
Kosallml was touched by his .'..treaties,
and said: “Unhappy prince, it my pity in*
fad of my love can la? any consolation
J™ 1 1 w,1 h.,gly 1 am
, because mllcb I endure ‘findl myself to the same entreaties lor
fit". '' bllt 11 "! is J 11 ‘”' 5 * 8 m "f; 8ny l' rinr , ess * *
‘
“Alas, f I refuse to mam- ym. it 1" be
cause I love another without hope—ft
>™'"K vagabond with bare feet and hair
£»«»« on the wind, who passe heha-e
f face one day and regarded me will,
ten".''. ( 'jes, >ul has net . i n
«'n.e,l. Him only will I marry, hut no
otin i.
Overcome by amazement and ■. , ml ,
the prince heard the soft voice of tl. • Imrv
Wlsb ... >>»•• . , "‘ como ,, tby l >l,nl , *h ,
Oltt.mea . granted . .
prayers prove curses.
—Translated from the trench of Catuho
Mendez by K. L Wa^encr
Th( , Rnss|an g0V( . lnm ciit tins under
taken the collection of tlie strange melo
dies of Siberia and the Cossacks of the Don.
?!r. Talmage, It is said, dictates his ser
mo.i to a short hand secretary at tin: rata
of 150 words a minute.
I>iHudvunt»ijr«*n of Hungin^.
Hanging Is no good.
In the first place, it requires a vast
amount of perfunctory preliminaries*. Feet
have to be bound, arms must be tied, a
noo c mind * o adjusted, the cap : tint bo
drawn, the rope must )k? cut or a trap
mud. be dropped, and with it seems to be
mi essential train of possible accidents.
Shcriiis, as a rule, are simply succe ful
politicians, rewarded by their party for
exceptional work in thc party's in crest
with u good, fat office. If they are men of
sen it! ve organization they uuti rally
shrink from any duty that brings them
into disagreeable contact with their fel
low men. If they are fiicic skinned,
opinionated, brutal, forceful fellows, ihey
will quite as likely shock their fellow t ti
zens by displays of their brutality.—Joe
Howard in New* \ ork Graphic,
Filling » P * 11 Want.
Cows’ hair, which hitherto has been of
little except in mortar lor walls ned
ceiling*, fs now made into m heavy felt,
-which is used for the soles of slippers,
farmers’ snow ^joots, wrapping for steam
pipes, etc., but it has to be mixed with
something kinky to hold it together For
thin purpose the hair of certain breeds* of
Russian cattle is used.- Cattle breeders
will soon ^atch the trick and raise woolly
'*c* r itterH, ’* and Scotch terriers and other
shaggy and fuzzy styles of dog ma> Oilid
toT>e of some ijossible use in the world.—
sprirvilHd Republican.