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TEE LOVER’S S0LIL04UY.
EY JEPFIE POHBUSH HjSitOKU
IX I were a bird in yonder tree,
All day long I d sing for thee;
I’d praise those eyes of matchless blue,
And all my songs would be for you.
ii.
If I were the rose that nestles down
Soft in your hair of golden brown.
I’d droop against vour neck so fair,
And be happy—while I nestled there.
in.
But, alas! I'm neither bird nor flower.
They are happy by tao hour; small,
I am only a man with salary
And so will amount to nothing at all.
MORNING.
BY SQUIRE HOBBS.
r>h, glorious morning 1
The earth adorning
With robes of silvery light;
With sunbeams dancing,
The eye entrancing.
You chase away the night.
The sun is smiling,
The birds beguiling swell;
Their notes joyful of praise singing to
Their
Is gaylv ringing
In tree-top, dale, and dell.
With incense glowing,
The air is blowing:
Xsd <68pliyriB kifts th6 liowsrs,
Their perfume-breathing unsheathing
(iay disks
In pretty laughing boners.
As day is growing,
The cock is crowing
A welcome to the morn;
Krom out the gloaming,
Dim distance roaming,
An eoho faint is borne.
O’er house-top curling.
The smoke is whirling
The senior clouds to meet;
The world is teeming
With toil; and beaming,
The day is now complete.
TOM!
BRYSON’S CRIME.
BY “THE MAJOR."
CHAPTER XIX
TUB HAM) Of FATE.
An impulse of sympathy had led
Jessica to call upon the widow on this
afternoon; she was taking the long
walk there from her home when Bel¬
mont met her.
While she had not the slightest af¬
fection for Edgar Van Wyck, the news
of his sadden death had shocked her,
as it did all who had known him. But
it awakened no emotion in her breast
besides that of pity for his mother,
whom she had met twice since hei
hand had been promised to the son.
That afternoon Tom Bryson did not
go to his work. He lit his pipe after
dinner, and sat down to smoke in
silence.
When his daughter had disposed of
tho dishes he saw her come into the
sitting-ioom with her bounet and shawl
on.
“Hilloa, Jess!” he cried, “What’s
up now?”
“I am going over to see Mrs. V an
Wyck.” that
“Oh, aye—the mother of young
fool who died the other day.” brutal
She made no reply to his re¬
mark.
“I was willing said. you should marry
him, Jess,” he “Don’t know but
I wanted you to. But it’s just as well
as it is. He was a poor kind of a
stick. What do you think about it,
anyway?” silent, sad
Her lips were her eyes
made him uneasy.
“O, well, if you don’t want to talk
about him, never mind. Only,” and
his voice grew hoarse, “don’t you dare
to have any love-nonsense with that
aristocrat, liandall Belmont! 1 hate
him!—I hate the name!—do you hear?
If I eatch him here with you, I’ll
knock his brains out with the ax!”
She left him growling over his pipe,
and went on her way to Mrs. Van
Wyck’s. All that we have seen of this
girl has shown us that obedience to her
father, consideration for his wishes,
was her law in life; heme, it will not
seem strange, after this tirade, that
she hastened past Randall Belmont on
the way.
Mts. Van Wyck answered her knock
at the cottage, and fell back with a lit¬
tle cry of surprise and pain as she
recognized her.
“You, Miss Bryson—is it you? O,
why did you come? You did not love
mv jioor boy; I saw it, but he would
not believe it; and by-aud-by, when
he oarne to understand it, lie weut
heart-broken, and died. (), why did
you come ?”
The scene in the wood was not then
known to Jessica, any more than to the
widow. The latter had taken it for
granted, from the few words uttered
by Edgar before he died, that he had
quarreled and parted with the girl.
Jessica could not undeceive her, be¬
cause she had no suspicion of the
truth nor of tho widow’s belief.
Mildly reproaching her visitor, as we
have told, Mrs. I an Wyck led her into
the cottage. Then, seeing the misery
aud compassion on the beautiful face
before her, she threw her arms about
her neck, and sobbed upon her shoul¬
der.
Very sadly and tenderly, then, did
Jessica console the poor mother, and
justify herself.
“I did not love him; I never pretend¬
ed to,” she said. “But my father asked,
almost commanded me, and I yielded.
I would have obeyed, though it wreck*
ed my happiness; or, rather, though it
made happiness as impossible to me
as it has always been, f pity you, from
tiie bottom of my weary heart: and oh,
give tne your pity, too, for I am very
wretched!"
It was not in the kind, motherly soul
to resist such an appeal as this. {She
took the girl to her heart; she kissed
her, she smooth d her hair, and de-
Srtpr;-
the road as Jessica again passed over
it. As she reached a clump of trees, a
man emerged from it, leading a horse.
She quickened her pace, but in a mo-
ment he overtook her.
“Why do you avoid and turn away
from me. he asked.
“Leave me-dont follow me. she
^She averted her “airstnriie has-
tened along by her side, with his arm
through the rein, string to take her
iwwKl and calling her endearing names,
She answered not. He poured out his
longing heart to her; he besought her
to speak to him. She looked not,
spone not—until, in despair, he led his
horse right before her and blocked hex
way. in her cheek.
A faint red spot was
“Have I not told you that it is im¬
possible?” shall she be possible!” demanded. be cried.
“It
She trembled as his deep, resonant
voice pronounced the words; at the
strong purpose that looked from his
eyes. there change with the
“Has come no
death of Edgar Van Wyck?” he asked,
“Does not that free yon from your
promise?” shook her head.
She
Why?” he impatiently cried. “Why
is it? You give me no reason.”
“But this afternoon,” she replied,
with an unsteady voice, “my father told
me that you should never enter his
house again; he even threatened
drive you out with his ax if he found
you there. Knowing this, will you still
distress me by coming?”
“Will you still obey such a father?”
“He is my father. When I was a
mere child I promised my dying mother
that I would always be faithful to him.
It is this that controls me. I cannot
disobey him.”
“Do you then bid me stay awav from
vou?”
“Yes.”
The word was spoken low, but dis¬
tinct.
“Your wish is my law; I obey. But
from your words, from your looks,
from all you do and say, I know you
love me. Th ugh I am barred away
from you for the present, yet I know
it will not be for long. I know it! I
feel it! Jessica, there is fate in it; we
cannot be separated! Not the mount¬
ains, nor the seas, nor time, nor space,
nor the perversitv of any human heart
can long part those whom God made
for each other. Believe it, dear, as I
do, and all will be well with us. Good-
by—for a little.”
The bridle was flung away; his arms
clasped her unresisting; again and
again he kissed her yielding lips. de¬
Tearing himself at last from the
lirious embrace, lie mounted and took
the road to Aylesworth. heart did Jes¬
With wildly beating
sica return to the old house. Hei
father was not there.
She sought the solitude of her own
room; she threw herself upon liei
knees by the bed, and prayers mingled
with sobs.
“O mother in heaven, ” she oftenest
prayed, “guide and direct me! It was
to you I made the promise; make mt
faithful to duty and to you!”
Darkness came down; the chambei
was in shadows; she heard her fathex
stamping about and grumbling below.
And still she prayed, with something
of that agony that has remained tc
earth from the scene in Gethsemane.
“O God, help me—strengthen me! O Father in
heaven, help mo tc
bear this heavy cross!”
And peace briefly came in sleep.
CHAPTER XX.
A DEAD MASS BEVENOE.
In the preceding chapter a glimpse he
has been given of Tom Bryson after
had heard of the death of Edgar Van
Wyck: but he had no occasion to show
to his daughter, nor did he show to
her, tlie true nature of his feelings
when this surprising news came to him.
It put him in a perfect ecstasy of de¬
light. He would not trust himself in
the presence of any living person tc
show it. He went out into the woods
and there laughed, capered, and actual¬
ly shouted with glee. Little by little
the man’s nature had been wholly
changed. Little bv little his love for
his child—the only thing that had re¬
mained from his better days, to human¬
ize him —had yielded to his powerful
lust for wealth, and his absorbing anx¬
iety to retain in safety the great fruits
of his terrible crime. To seal the
mouth of one who might lia.e been a
swift witness against him, he had been
willing, nay, anxious, to sacrifice his
laughter's happiness by a hateful and
unequal match. And now that young
Van Wyck w-as suddenly removed by
loath, the release of Jessica was the
last thing that he thought of as cause
for congratulation. filled his soul with
The thought that
joy was that, save Jessica, the only per¬
son who could give information that
would trace the murder and robbery of
Mason Belmont to him was silent in
death. The dreadful secret was kept
by himself and by the grave alone; he
was absolutely safe.
For a few days the thought kept his
brain in such a whirl that he was able
to form no plans for the future. Time
was when his first question would have
been: “What can 1 do for Jessica?—
how can I best benefit her?” But now
his very soul had become calloused by
his misfortunes, by his crimes, and by
the acquisition of his ill-gotten fortune.
The questions that now haunted his
thoughts by day and his dreams by
aight were: “How can 1 enjoy all this
money in safety ? Where can I go with
it? How far must I go before its use
will cease to excite suspicion?" He
went out into the woods, but he did not
labor. Hour after hour he sat idly
'SHeS ' 3 S
* 3 became a
thoughts he grew hawher And-sterner , of prne r
« ^ treatment of «?%*“* Wh °
* 1 ? un J> 0 V m ‘ V; was
\ ‘
the hv f dea ° ? tuat , l JatieQt on t snnl 8 ° ul in* 1G
8ome Qne bas styled the in-
sanity of guilt must have seized him.
^ 8uddeniy fearfu l lest the
J>^^dered man’s money had slipped eight
^nths had^assed More than
^ since, in the early
Qf dreaJful daT> he bad
locked it up in the little closet. Never
dnce then ] la d be placed key in that
. ock Sometimes he had sat before it
i j oue at n ig b t, looking at the closed
md ] oc ked receptacle with a kind of
-apturo; but he had never opened nor
jxamined it.
But he had been away at least some
hours of each day since. Jessica passed
much of her time in her room, up-
stairs. Suppose that some prowlei robbed
had discovered the prize, and
the robber ? last
These torturing fears became at
intolerable. On the night of the third
day after the separate visits of his
daughtor and Eandall Belmont to Mrs.
Van Wyck, he determined to have an
end of them. He would satisfy him-
self by ocular inspection that the treas-
ure was safe,
He sat moodily by the window, after
supper, repulsing every attention of his
daughter, impatiently waiting for the
silent hours of the night, that he might
The hours passed slowly. Year ten
o’clock, Jessica took a c-andle to go to
her lonely room. with her hand
She hesitated, upon
the latch.
Did some premonition of the events
that night hideous in her memory then
assail her? Do coming events thus cast
their shadows before ?
“Good-night, father,” she said.
“Good-night.” he looked and
Five minutes later up,
saw her still standing there.
“ W hat d’ye want girl? ’ he growled.
“Won’t you kiss me, father?”
“Jess—don’t be a fool!”
The door closed between them. Nev¬
er were their mortal eyes to see each
other again.
Bryson waited till the hands of the
olock pointed to midnight. Long since
he had ceased ti wind the striker; it’s
sound in the night had smitten his
30ui as with the voice of thunder.
Then he unlocked the closet door,
pulled out the money, and counted it
all over.
It required an hour to do it; but it
was all save—twenty-five thousand dol¬
lars. He stuffed it back into the little
compartment, and relocked it.
What restless fiend then led the
man down into the cellar, to look
around, and be sure that nothing ap¬
peared there that might betray him?
No man can know; not even the tor¬
mented criminal himself could have
told.
He went below and stamped on the
Hags as if he would bid them hold their
secret. He peered into every held nook and
corner of the cellar. He the can¬
dle down to the bare ground, and to
the stones, as if he expected to see the
dead hand of Mason Belmont thrust
out.
He gave himself up to the delirium
that the scene and the hour wrought iu
his brain.
“It is mine, I say—mine; rightfully
mine!” he shrieked”. The dead walls
of the cellar gave back the echoes.
“He was my enemy; he ruined me
when he might have saved me. I had
my revenge; his treasure became mine.
It's only a fraction of his wealth; I wish
it was more. But I had my revenge—
and the money is all mine!”
His hands gestured to suit the words,
and the candlestick fell from his grasp.
With an oath he snatched it up so
quickly that the flame was not extin-
quished. Then he hurried up to his
room, and, throwing himself, dressed
as he was, upon his bed, soon fell
asleep.
To those who are inclined to be su¬
perstitious, it might almost seem as if
the hand of the murdered man had
been stretched forth from his unknown
grave in that cellar, to overwhelm his
assassin with a terrible revenge.
Unperceived by Tom Bryson, the
flame of the overturned candle had
touched a single dry shaving. It crept
slowly thence, by several scraps of pa¬
per and dry refuse, to a heap of broken
boards. There was no draft to fan it;
but feeding steadily upon the com¬
bustible contents of the cellar, it
reached the joists and the flooring
above. It seized upon the stairs, and
at last swept into the hall, consuming
the door like paper. A window was
shattered with the heat; the wind from
without blew and fanned the fire; it
roared at last all through the lower
rooms, and the heat and smoke as¬
cended to the upper story.
The old house of crime and mystery
was doomed!
I TO BE CONTINUED 1
A SILVER mine in Colorado is about to
be worked by electricity. The mine is
at the top of a mountain, about 2,000
feet High, and the carrying up of coal
has hitherto been a very serious item of
expeasp. R is the intention of the min¬
ing company to utilize a waterfall at the
foot of the mountain, where an electric
plant to generate a 100-horse power will
be mitted placed. The power will be the trans¬
thence to the motors at sum¬
mit of the mountain, and the mining
operations will be conducted wholly by
electricity.
rmuiiTKCi..
A. —How much Miss Homely looks
like her mother.
B. —Yes, the resemblance is positively
frightful.—[Texas Siftings.
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(
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WE HAVE A COMPLETE SUPPLY OF
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We extend a cordial invitation to all, and the Ladies
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My Stock of FALL MILLINERY is now beautiful, and will soon be complete,
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iy
MILTON J. MOORE,
DEALER IN
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