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About The correspondent. (Roberta, Ga.) 1892-190? | View Entire Issue (Jan. 12, 1894)
BETRAYED; -or. A. DARK MARRIAGE MORN. A Romanes of Love, Intrigue cr.d Crime. BY MBS. ALICE CHAPTER XXVII. SHE LIGHTNING’S FLASH IN THE CLEAT. SET. Flora had closed her eyes to conceal her tears. She opened them at the in¬ stant Siyme se z d her hand and called her “poor angel.” Seeing the mau on his knees, she could not comprehend it, and only exclaimed, simply: “Are you mad, Mr. Siyme?” “Yes, I am mad!” Siyme threw his hair back with a romant c gesture common to him and, he believed, to the poets. “Yes, I am mad with love and with pity, for I see jour sufferings, puie and noble victim!” Flora only stared in blank astonish¬ ment. “Kepose yourself with confidence,” he cont nued, “ou a heart that will be de¬ voted to you until death—a heart into which your tears now loll to its most sacred depths.” wish her roll Flora did not tears to to such a distance, so she dried them. A man on his knees before the woman he adores must appear to her either sublime or ridiculous. Unfortunately the altitude of Sljme, at once theatrical and awkward, did not seem sullime to Flora. To her live y imagination it was irresistibly ludicrous. A bright gleam of amusement illumined her charming countenance; she bit her lips to nevertheless. conceal it. but it shone out of her eyes One should never kneel unless sure of rising conqueror. Otherwise, tike Siyme, he ex; oses himself to be laughed at. “This “Rise, book Mr. Siyme,” sa d bewildered Ft or a, gravely. has evidently you. Go and take some rest and we will forget this; only you must never forget your¬ self again in th s manner.” Siyme rose. He «a> livid. “Mrs. Cleveland,” he sa d, bitterly, “the love of a great heart can never be an offense. Mine at least ■would hive beeD siucere ; mine would l ave been faithful ; mine would net have been an infamous 6n«r s!” Th* emphasis of these words d’splaj-ed so e’ident an intention, the countenance of Flora changed immediately. She moved uneasily on the lounge. “What do you mean, Mr. siyme?” “Nothing, ma’nm, which you do not know, I think,” he replied meauingly. She rose. “You shall explain your meaning ira med ately to me. sir !” she exclaimed; “or later, to my husband.” “But your sadness, your tears,” cried the secretary, in a tone of admirable sin¬ cerity; “ibe^e made me sure you were not “Of ignorant what? of it!” How he hesitates ! Speak, man!” “I am rot a wretch! I love you and pitv you!—that is ail;” and Siyme siglred deeply. “And why do you pity me?” had She spoke haughtily; this “nd though Siyme of never suspected imperiousness manner or of languege, be retlectid hurriedly on tbe point at which he bad ar¬ rived. More sure than ever of success, after a moment fie took from his pocket a folded letter. It was the.one with which he had pro¬ vided himself to confirm I lora’s sus¬ picions, In now awakened for the first time. i rofound"silenee he unfolded it and handed it to her. She hesitated a moment, then seized it. A single glance recognized the writing, for she Lad often exchanged notes wi h Cora. Words of tbe most burning passion term nated thus: “Always a little jealous of Flo; half vexed at h iving given her to you. For she is pretty, and—but I! I am beautiful, am I not, my beloved? and above all, I adore you!” At tbe first word Flora became fear¬ fully pale. Finishing, she uttered a fe ir ful g oan, re-re td tbe letter, and re¬ turned it to Siyme, as if unconscious of what she was do mg.” For a few seconds she remained motion¬ less—petrified—her eyes fixed on vac ncy. A world seemed roiling down and crush¬ ing her heart. Suddenly her she turned, passed with r pid steps into boudoir; and Siyme heard the sound of opening and shutting draw¬ ers. A moment after she reappeared with hat and cloak, and crossed the boudoir with the Bime stro g an i rapid step. Sljme, terrii.ed to death, rushed to stop her. “Mrs. Cleve’ancl!” be cried, throwing himse f before her. She waved him aside with an imperi ous gtsiure of her band. He trembled and obeyed, aud she left the boudoir. A moment later she was on the avenue, going toward Broadway. It was now near mil night; cold, damp weather, with the rain falling iu great drops. broad The few pedestrians follow still on the pavement turned to with their eyes this majestic lady, whoso gait seemed hastened by some errand of life or death. But in New York nothing is surprie ing, for th-re/ people witness all manner of things Therefore, the strange ap penrame of Flora did not excite any ex traordinary attention. A few men smiled and nodded; others threw a few words of raillery at her. Bo h were unheeded alike. Kea h ; ng Madison Square, she stopped near the lountain. The soun 1 of the ***** Hurrymg up P Fifth avenue, she passed her own door, and soon reached the Ellis ton mansion ved there, the unfortunate ch’ld knew not what to do, nor even why dial*,. she bad come. 8b. had some vague os thouth to assure herself palpably of her misfortune; to touch it with her or rethape I. find soma reason, «ome pretext to doubt it. .. She dropped down on toe stone -»e *s and hid her face in both her hands, vainly striving to think. It was past midnight. The store's were deserted; a shower of rain was fall¬ ing, and she was chilled to numbness. A policeman tbe pas-ed by.’ He turned and stared at young woman, then took her rongh'y by t he arm. "What are you doing here?” he asked, brutally. Sue looked up at him with wondering eyes. know myself," "I do not she answered. The man looked more closely at her, discovered through all her confusion a nameless refinement and the subtle per¬ fume of purity. He took pity on her. “But. mad..m, you cannot stay heie,”bo rejoined, in a softer voice. .“No?” “You must have seme great sorrow?" “Very “Wh great.” name?” it is your “Flora Cleveland,” she said, simply. The man looked bewildered. “Will youte.l me where you live?” he nsked. She gave the number with perfect sim¬ plicity and perfect indifference, she seemed too be thinking nothing of what she was sayinc. “Ah! just below here,” said the offi cer. “Yes,” she rejoined. “Will you tako my arm?” She did so quietly, and they started slowly down tho street. Eugene had just reached the house, aud heard with stnpeih d surprise, from the lips of tbe lady s maid, the details of hts wife’s mj’.sterious die appearance, when the bell rang violently. He rushed out 'and met bis wife on the stairs. She had somewhat recovered her calinnee’, aud as be interrogated her with a searching glance, made a ghastly effort to smile. “I was sligh'ly ill and went out a lit¬ tle,” she sad. “"I walked too far and am somewhat tired." Notwiths audng the improbability of the explanation, he did not hesitate. He murmured a few solt words of reprorcb who and placed removed her in the hands of her maid, ber wet garments. Di ring that time he culled tbe officer, who remained in the vestibule, and close¬ ly inteirognted him. Eu On learning where be had found Flo’-a, ene knew at once and fully the wholt truth. He went directlv to his wife. She bad retir d and was trembling in every limb. One of her hands was resting outside the coverlet. He rushed to take it, but she withdrew it gentiy, but with sad and resolute dig nitv. The simple i esture told him they were separate 1 lore ver. By a t • cit arrangement proposed by ber, and as tacitly accepted by him, Flora be¬ came virtually a widow. He remi-ined for some seconds immova¬ ble, his expresi-iou lost in the shadow of a The curtain; then slowly left the chamber. idea of lying to defend himself never ocenrred to him. His line of conduct was already ar¬ ranged—calmly, blue methodically. But two circ es bad already sunk around bis eyes, and his face worn a waxen pallor. Hts bands, joined behind his back, were clenched together; and the ring he wore sparkled with toeir tremulous move ment. Af er hi If an hour he stood in the door of her chamb r. “Flo!” he said. She turned her eyes gleaming with fever uj on him. “Flo, 1 am ignorant of what yon know, and I sh 11 not ask you,” he continued, as he stepped into the room an t ap proachel her bed. “I have been very c.iminal loward you, but perhaps less so than you think. “Terr ble circums'ances bound me with iron b .nds. Fate ruled me! But I seek no j alliation. Judge of me as severely as you w sh; but I beg of you calm yourself —preserve yo rself! “You sj oko to me this morning of your presentiments - of your maternal hopes. Attach yourself to tbose thoughts, and you will aiways be mistress of your life. As for myself, I shill be whatever you will me— a straBger or a friend. But now I feel that my piesence makes you ill. I will leave you for a time, but not alone. Would you wish Mrs. Morgan to come to you?” “Yes,” she murmured, faintly. “I shall go for her; but it is not neces ?ary to tell you there are confidences one muBt reserve from one’s deaiest friends.” "Except a mother?” She murmured the question with a supplicating agony, very painful to see. He grew still paler. After an instant: “Except She a mother!” he said. “Be it so!” turned her face and buried it in the pibow. "Your mother returns to-morrow, does she not?” She made an affirmative motion of her head. “You can make your arrangements with h®r. I sh ill accept everything. ” “Thank jou,” she replied, feebly. He lelt the room and w. nt to find Mrs. told Moigan, his whom wife he awakened, and briefly her had been sei ed wi h a 3=veie neivous attack, the effect of a • hil. ’-The amiable lady ran hastily to Flora and spent the night w.th her. But she w-.s not tbe dupe of the ex plana ion Eugene had given h-r. W omen quickly understand each other in their grief. Nevertheless asked she no confidences received non ; but her tenderness to ihe stricken one redoubled. • .Duimg -ht the the only silence of she that could dreadful lender ai service xer was to make her weep. A or did those laggard hours pass less utterly lor Eugene Cleveland. He tried to take no rest, but walked up #nd down bis apartments untildaylig.it IU a sort of frenzy. The distress of this P 001 ' wounded him to the heart. lhamemoiiesof the past rose before him, and parsed onward in s id proces Tuen the morrow would show him the crushei daughter with ber motliei— ad £beTihu;on? 0 in al Ill herded j h " pi>1 - H e found he had yet in his heart lively feelings of pity; jet some remorse in his • conscience. Strange to say, this weakness irritated hlm - and he denounced It to himself. Wbo bad betrayed him! I degree, . This Question agitated him to an equal but from the first instant hd had ““^nddeT’.r 1 he sudden gr.ef e“.nj'b?lf‘S.e1 and half-craze.l con con- viction of his wife, her <'e«j>ni ing atti¬ tude, aud her Rileuce, c*>uld only be ex¬ plained by strong assur nee and ee.tiin leve.atio i. After having turned tbe matter over and over in ins mind, he arrived at the conclusion th it nothiug could have tu own such i l.-nr light iuto his life save C a a s letters He never wrote to Mr’. Elliston, but :ould not prevent her writing to him, for to her, as to alt women, lo*e without let¬ ters was incomple’e. fault inexcusable But the of Eugene, in a mao o bis tact, was to have p esered tue e lefers. No one, however, is por.ec , and Lie was an > rtisf. He delighted in these chef d’oeuvres of p ssioniteeloquence, was p.pnd of im-pir ing them, and be could not m tke up his mind to burn or destroy them. He examined at once the secret drawer where he hid concealed them, and by certain signs dscov. red the lock had been tampered with. Neverthe ess, there was no letter missing; the arrangement of them alone had been disturbed. Hts suspicions at once reverted to Sly me, slight, whose aud scruples he suspec ed wete but in the morning they were continued beyond doubt by a letter from tbe secretary to his emp’oyer. la fact, Slyme, after passing on his pprt a most wrenched night, did not feel nis nerves equal in the morning to meet¬ him ing the reception the Lelands’. possibly His in waiting for at letter was skillfully penned, to put asleep suspicion H it bad not been fully aroused, and if I Flora had not betrayed him. QH situation, announced his acceptance offered of a lucra commercial tlve suddenly h'm in a house iu Boston. He was obliged to decide at once, and to start ^bat same morning, for four of losing au It opportunity concluded which coul I not recur again, with the liveliest gratitude and re ret. Eugene could not very well reach his brother-in- aw’s secretary to strangle him; so he resolved to do tlie next best thing. He not only 7 sent him a friendlv letter thankin'! him for all bis kindness i> his wife, but a handsome present in addition as a testimonial of his sympathy and goo I wishes! This, however, was a simple precau¬ tion, for he apprehended nothing more from the venomous reptile, so far be¬ neath him, after ho had once shaken him off. Seeing him deprived of the only weap¬ on he could possibly use a.;aia»t him, he felt safe. Besides, so far as he knew, Siyme bad lost the only interest he could desire to subsetve, for he knew this man had done him the compliment of court¬ ing hts wife. And he really esteemed him a little less low, after discovering this gentie ma>'lv taste! Ah! but the end was not yet. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DAUGHTER AND HER MOTHER. It required on the part of Eugene Cleve- 1 nd, this same mo.n.ng, an extrtion of nil his courage to perform his duty ns a geutlemnn in receiving Mr. and Mrs Le¬ land upon their return home. But couva o had been for some time past his sole re¬ maining virtue; aud this, at least, be sought never to lose. He received them most gracefully—his father and mother-in-law as t* ey de¬ scended from their carriage and entered the broal hall. Mr. Lei nnd was much broken in health. The trip, wh ch it had t een hoped would benefit, had only wearied him; and now, on again entering bis own door, he be ged to be at once assisted to liis sleeping loom. Mrs. Leland lingered in surpr’se at not Beeing her daughter there to meet them, and cast an inquiring look upon Enjene. He informed her that she had been a little indisposed since the preceding even¬ took ing. Notwithstanding the precautions he in his language and bji his smile, be could Dot pte ent Mrs. Leland from feel¬ ing a lively alarm. He did not pretend, however enUrely to reassure her. Under his reserved and measured replies, she felt the present¬ ment of some disaster. After having pressed h ; m with many questions, she suddenly turned and hurried up stairs. Flora, to spare her mother the first shock, had quitted her bed and dressed herself; and the poor child had even put a little rouge on her pale cheeks. Eu¬ gene, who had hastened after his mother in-law, himself opened for her the door, of her daughter’s chamber, and then withdrew. All that passed between them at first was a silent interchange of mutual caiesses. Then the mother seated herself near her daughter, drew her head on her bosom, and looked into the depths of her eyes. “What is tbe matter?” she asked sadly. “Oh, nothing—nothing hopeless! only vou must love your little Flo more than e%er. Will you not?” “Yes; but why?” “I must not; worry you; and I must not wrong myself, either. You know wbv!” “Ves; but I implore you, my darling, to ti ll me. ” “Very well; I will tell you everything But, mother, j’ou must be as brave as I i am." She buried ber bead lower still on hei mo her s bro 'St. and commenced to re ! to her, in a low voice, without , ... ble / . . bad been ma< j e to 'ber, l and ie which | I J 3 18 ^® . landdl s , a: i < i l nnt n!li ee C ° *“ n t t « im6< rro P t t l hei ’ tb ® cra °\ S he lr , f' . ed kiss . her hair I prm a on from . time to hi who . dd ... not dare . to hex or a, mso I eyes of another to her, as though might she hare were ashamed s crime, lm-giuel I ° f he F misfortune, since her mother had re «« 1 '' 3(1 r *. e8 s : B ut ’ i | e talmnees of Mrs. Leland j . f* J, . . * . b i i of ® " 6 7h!i tbe 1 l f f }j . or th a i * Christians ^ lH under . b ®£ the n I cla '’; s of tb ® , J er ' ® r ® D ^ S , i”/ ^ ^ at tho t i Z -.-hef Ijrfe | eyes c ‘. rc » a ~ f.PPf-ed ‘J.®.® as «hough demanding l dul,y had any con8olat OD l ? rt,are : , I When she had heard , . all „ she , summoned I smi ! a at ber daouhter, who at ® * ^ertaiS ty .mbrae P nT * be“r L n dariinw l “Well mv onT'it ” said she “S' at lost “it <• • " .,e ri ht notwithstanding; there is nothing todgsnairof.” . _ “Do you really believe so?” “Ccr-amlv. Thera is some inconc iv able in’ sterv under all this; but be a- Hired TS.” thyt tt e evil is not so terrible as it edge’! “My it?” poor mother! but he has acknowl¬ “d am I etier pleased be has acknowl¬ edged it. Thu proves le has vet some pride, and some good jet left in ids sont. Then, too, he feds virv muehaxflic ed; he su iers as much hs we do. Thick of that. Let us tnink of ih* future, my da ling.” They clasped each other s bands, and srnil d at one imother to n strain the tears wiiich tilled tbe eyes of both. Af er a few raiua es: “1 must go to your poor father now, my child,” s.id Mrs. Ltland. “and t en I would bke to repose for half an hour.” “I will accompany you to papa’s rcom Oh, lean walk! I fee, a great deal better." “I think you had better wai' a lit le. my dear. Tour father is reposing aftei the fatigues of tbe journey. I wilt come for yon by and by.’’ “Very well, mamma.” Mrs. Lelaud rose to leave the room. A the door she turned : “Be sensible,” she said, with anothei smile. “And you also,” rejoined Flora, whose voice fulled her. Mrs. Lei nd hastened to her own p ivate room, closed and locked the door, raised her cl sped bauds toward Heaven; tkeo, falling on her knees before tbe bed, she buried her bead in it, and commenced to weep despairingly. Flora, left alone in her room, dropped upon her knees, clasped her hands, and supplicated bear the terrible the Great trial Throne for strength to through which she was passing. The apartment occupied by Eugene was continuous to this chamber. He bad been walking with long strides up and djpgn the room, ext ecting every moment nYsee Mrs. Leland enter. As the time passed on he snt himself down and tried to read, but his thoughts wondered. His ear eagerly received, agniust his will, the slightest sounds in the house. If a foot s-earned approaching him, be rose suddeuly and tried to com¬ pose his countenance. When the door of the neighboiing chamber was opened his ugonj 7 was redoubled. then, Ho caught the snurd of a weary sigh, an inst nt after, the dull fall of Mis. Leland upon the curpet. then her despairing Eugene sobs. from h violentlv threw ; m the book which be was forcing himself to tead, placing his e bows on the bureau which was before him, held, for a Ion/ t me, his pa’e forehead tighiened in his contracted baud’. When the sound of t <e sobs abated and ceased, little by 11 tle, be breathed freer. A little after midday he received thi? aoe: “My husband’s health is hopelessly broken. He has sent in his resignation to Ike directors of the bank. He loDgs for the country. W’aireu has placed his house »t Koxbury at our disposal, and we depart almost immediately. If you will permit me to take mv daughter with me for a few days, I shall be grateful to >’ou. Agnes L-:iiAND.” He returned this simple reply: “You can <‘o nothing of which I do not approve to-d .y and alwajs. “Eugene Cleveland.” Mrs. Leland. in fact, having consulted the inclination and the strength of her daughter, h id determined to remove her without delay, if pos ible, from tho im¬ press ons of the spot where she had Buffered so severely from the presen e of her husband, and from the unfortu¬ nate embarrassment of their mutual s.tua t.ou. She desired also to meditate in soli¬ tude, in order to decide what couise to take under unexpected circumstances. Eugene Finally, she had not the courage to see again—if she could had ever see him again—until some time el psed. It wai not without anxiety that she awaited his reply to the request she had addressed him. In the midst of the troubled confus'on jf her ideas, rhe believed him capab'e of almost anything; and she feared every¬ thing from him. Eugene’s note reassured ber. Sh* hastened to read it to her daughter and both of them, like two lost creatures who cling to the smallest twig, remarked with pleasure the k nd of respectful abandonment with which he h d reposed their destines in their own h nd. He spent the remainder of the day in his counting-room, and wuen he returned they had departed. CHAPTER XXIX. THE REPTILE TURNS TO STING. When Flora Cleveland returned to New York and her home sha toere experienced tne painful somber preoccupation impressions of of the the past, future; and tne but she brought there wi h h -r, although in a irague form, a mo t powerful con iolation—ber first-born child. Assailed bv griet, and ev n menaced by new emotions, she was obli ei to re¬ nounced the nursing of har li tie one; but nevertheless she never left him, fox she was jealous even of his nurse. She at le st wi-hed to be loved by him. She loved him wiih n infinite passion. She loved him because he was her own son and of her blood. He was tbe price of her m’sfortune—of herpain. him because Sue Joved he was her only hope of human him happiness hd hereafter. beau She loved b cause was as tiful as the day. And it was true he was so; for he resembled his father—and she Z2ZZT& hem a’l ber tooughtR on this dear ere ture, >.nd ut fir>t 8Le thought prised she herself, had succeeded. her | She was sU' at a’ own tr n nullity, when she saw Corx Elliston; for t er lively imagination hid exhausted, in advance, all tne sadness which her new °t»t n wh.Te'h d ifad St . th, kind of tor por into which exccs-ive suffering hal plunged her - when her rnatern il sensa¬ tions were a little recovered quietdd itself by custom — her woman s heart in the moth* r’s She could not prevent herself from re newing htr pas-iiouate interest in hex ! gracetul though tturifile husband. J Mrs Leland did not retuiu to the tiity w.th ber daughter, but remained in Box bury, with her husband. of Flora wrote her qude en, however, 1 and told her everything that was taking pi ice. For this wise young woman, ma tnred thing, by misfortune, observed every- 8.w everyth.ng, aud exaggerated nothing. She touched, in her letters, on the most delicate points in the household, vnd even ou her husband’s secret thoughts, with accurate justice, Eugene, as yet, was not at ail < onverted, nor near being so; but it would be i dy¬ ing hum.n nature to attribute to his heart, or that of pny other human being, a supernatural If imp i*sibii implacable ty. the dark and theories which Eugene Cleveland hal lately made the law of hiR exi-teu«e could triumph abso'utely, Tbet'i this would ba true. Is he had pissed th'ongh did not reform bfci they only staggered him. He oil not pursue his path with the same firmness; he strayed fro h s pro¬ gramme. He pitied one of his vio'ima, and, as one pitying wrong his alw.jH entails ano her. after wife, ho came near loving his ch Id. These two weaknesses had glided into his petrified soul, us into a marble fouut, nnd there took root—two imperceptible roots, however. The child scarcely occupied him mors than a few moments every d iy. He thought of him, however, and would ret ra home a litt'e earlier than usual each day then w is his habit, se creetly attracted' by the smile of that fresh face. Tbe mol her was for him somethin g more. Her Bufferings, her youthful heroism, had touched bint. She b.camo in his eyes somebody. He di-.covered many merits in her. He perceived she was remakablv well in¬ formed for a woman. Bhe understood half a word, knew a great deal, and guessed at the remainder. She had, iu fine, that blending grace aud solidity which give’, to the conversa¬ tion of a woman of cultured mind an in¬ comparable charm. She was a lov. ble creature, and it can he understood that she might have many attractions, even for her lm-ban I. Yet, though bo h ti not for one instant the idea of sacrificing io her tho p»ssion that ruled his life, it is certain, however, that his wrife p eased him aa a charming fr.end, which she tiuly was. [TO 3E CONTINUED.] Saving is a practice beat begun early —and for this reason: It is a habit, ard like all habits, easily planted in child, but taking root with difficulty in an adult. It is no kindness to teach children to spend, unless you can in¬ sure them money to spend to their lives’ end. , Facts About Glycerine. Glycerine is one of the most useful and misunderstood of every-day assistants. It must not be applied to the skin un¬ diluted, or it will cause it to become red and hard, but if rubbed well into the skin while wet it has a softening and whitening effect. It will prevent and cure chapped hands, two or three drops will often stop the baby’s stomach ache. It will allay the thirst of fever patients and soothe an irritable cough by moist¬ ening the dryness of the throat. Equal parts of bay rum and glycerine applied to the face after shaving makes a man rise up and call the woman who pro¬ vided it blessed. Applied to shoes glycerine is a great preservative of the leather and effectu¬ ally keeps out the water and prevents wet feet. A few drops of glycerine put in the fruit jars the last thing before sealing them helps to keep the preserves from holding on top. Half a teaspoonful every half hour will cure summer complaint or dyspep¬ sia.—New York Commercial Advertiser. Love for the Zigzag. The straight line is an abomination to the Chinese. They endeavor te avoid it in their streets and buildings and have banished it completely where coun¬ try field paths are concerned. They will always substitute a curve whenever possible, or they will torture it info a zigzag. In districts not devastated by the Tai Pings nor subject to the influence of tbe foreigner the houses and temples are characterized by curved, often peaked, roofs, ornamented with fantastic modifi¬ cations of the “myriad-stroke pattern.” The inhabitants of such regions are soon found to have a mental world to corre¬ spond. The straight line is scouted. They think in curves and zigzags. To the Chiuese mind the straight line is suggestive of death and demons. It be¬ long- not to the heaven above nor to the earth beneath. In a true horizon line are feen the “undulations of the dragon.” Therefore, argues the Chinese, the straight line p rtains to hades.—[Con¬ temporary Review. A Prodig oas Family. A * 6 mn S« arrlv « laS <- f took place , at Hirceloua, R spam. Au o.d man or ninety, wno had lelt the town m bis youth to seek his fortune in America, reappeared, with a suite of over XOO pirsons— a very large family, lie hud been married three times, and brought back to Barcelona with him sixteen daughters, of whom six thiee Z'° f sons, dmvs some “* ot T whom e r™ were^niow’- a * »•»* ers and others mained; thirty-four granddaughters, married, some of whom were and forty-seven grandsons, and among the rest three great-grandsons, These, with their wives and husbands ’tcS-o LUhica.o Hcruld. Hom'ld" “ P k®” 7 ’ A Valuable Fur. Foremost in the list of American furs is the American sable. The pine marten, or sable, of northwest America, is not esteemed so valuable as the sable from Russia, but there is no doubt that the ^ w0 B p *, ec j es are j n reality J one and the _ same, _ the difference ____ of . temperature . , and ; other local monxtymg causes readily ac counting for the better quality of the Russian fur. The light-colored skins are usually dyed and frequently sold as Russian sable.—[Chicago Times.
