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THE WEEKLY TELEGRAPH
MACON, GA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 3, JSSX).
$1.00 .Year. »
{Single l-'lve Cents. f
DEAR HEART, SWEET HEART.
BY EBNE6T McOAFFEY.
And their far look of thought unthought
, . |( .: r hold on lief* frail strands
1 t u . M , n your Ho furled
■ ' u ui»<*r eternal peace,
, iii> •*«.» untn-ull-d streams, .
J.in .he rude wind* Have made surcease
Vuinroer's glory drift, and dreuni.
... h „ rt . „wl heart, roar weieo lip*
frtnu'h niy cheek eseln,
• .leepell In *n ectll«e
•T beyond my r.ior!«l ken;
tM ihi *~\g*PjS d " lU who k “' P *
.I' 1 ; ", T ;7c‘ a, one who rierpe—
'Jire'for fhe ho Join 1 * rwe end lih
no., h*ort, sweet h.nsrt, thy tender eyee,
"£'"(55llielr depths.of wondering,
'iViibl (or eye; eedroop* enddwn
he tiSt sweet slolet heaYoC spring;
That closed the c"t«*s ’twixt thee and me.
Dear heart, sweet heart, the lonely way
Seems doubly steep since you are gone.
The dawn has faded out of day.
The rose has faded out of dawn;
nd I. alas! must needs go down
My hand unclasped by any child.
To wear tta cross without tbe crown
through I ‘
And walk tl
Dear heart, a
i hfo unreconciled,
t heart, ’mid 1
^UMKuSnS^Suw^adUms? 1 * 1
Mine eyes are dim with brimming tears.
My lips with grief are tremulous;
My baby boy - that you should die
And out into the darkness go,
Beyond my broken hearted cry,
1 loved you so, I loved you so.
A FAMILY FAILING.
from the Bontoa Hcrnld.
CHAPTER III.
All night long Amoret Uy*»»kr, haun-
u j h.r fmhtr’a lace as she had «en it
through h« )««• on *>*' ,elur “-.. r.
‘‘He mult he yery ill—worse than Dr
Griuishawe haa allowed me to iorpo«,
Ike cirl thought, her heart beating wildly
eilh anaiety “How wicked o doctor, to
t„p bsc* the truth from people! I will
:..!k to him to morrow; 1 will meke him
■i^ ereolhln* ItoU he thick that 1
.m one of thow mllr girl, who could not
bear to kuow-th.t I would not be able to
kill, my uneasinea. ruin papa? Oh, III
had ausf toted, I would not here run the
mk that I ran to-dar! How could 1 bwtr
to lire if I thought that I had caused him
another anxious moment--my kindest, my
Jcirett, who haa worked and watted for
me so long—whom mamma left me to cou-
M l,. »rd take care of when I grew upf
Whrn the doctor tame the next morning
tee to her auklr, Amoret contriyed to
he .'one with him for a few minutea, and
in those few minulea ahe learned the tmth
about her lather** heelth.
Dealhlv paid, »be aal among her plllowa
and listened, with htr grent Hurtled biown
ryes Saed upon good lit. limushawe’a
**i*fhere, ray child,” aald the old man
gently. “1 can tell you nothin,more; Md
sou mult not be orer-aoxtoua. After all,
w. doctor, are not infallible: like other
psopie, we are aomelltne* mistaken in our
opinions. But —laying hie trembling
hand upon her head- 'your fete aui
lire ca;etnlly, end tycid any poaaibtiiiy ol
snnovsnee or excitement.”
••Yes,” murmured Amoret.
“It ittcmi to me that of Ute he nu bad
some special cause for dirtreas of mind.
• * i-J —* — dear, what it
Yes at Manchester,'’’interposed the poor
the poor father anxiously—“the—the cous
ins, you know. 1 here was Tom-Tom is
really not a Lad fellow.”
“lorn is the best fellow in the world 1”
assented Amoret warmlv. “They are all
three good fellows, bnt 1 like
belter than Ned and Jim.”
That is what 1 thought I” exclaimed
the father, no longer concealing his eager*
nrs«. “And if 1 were once sure that my
little Amoret would have so kind a pro*
lector ”
“Paps,” broke in Amoret, her eoice
rather unsteady, although she smiled at
him, “so that b«what you hate been pi
ting, dear! Why did you not tell
before?”
“1 hardly dared. I—I could scarcely
bear to think of it myself. It seems too
much to ask of you darling; but—”
“What, that I should marry Tom?”
“Yes, I know that you uted to laugh at
bint, and ”
“On, hut that waa only nonsense, yon
know! Papa. 1 never thought about it se*
sloe footstep* croesed the neighboring room
— u hs is coming, Do I look very white?”
hhs pat bsr hinds up hsstily and rubbed
i,.. (unllMechecki. “He mu:t not know
that you ha.e hyen talking to me. UP,
rt.d”—.he broke into an hy.lerical laugh
u Mr, Dodtou opened the door— Ur.
UrltL.bew* eey* »i m*y be a htalgM •**■
tort t can put lay loot tn the ground.
I,n’t he adreadlul man? Aud wh.^ain 1
In dn with myaeif, I ihordd ,.ks to -oow,
all that time?”
A. her father want to the door with the
■ rood doctor, to hare a laat word .boot hi.
JH Anwiret rtaolytd that ah* would
^ apeak Tiaokly to him wheh he came baclr.
1 “We haya neyer had an. eecre!*,” ahe
thought, “and I n.ytr could ae* tha good
s( beating ebout the bush. H* will know
tbet I have been question.ng Dr. Orims*
have. 1 had better not try to hide it from
him."
When her father returned and eat down
hy the sofa where the girl had been estab
lished with books and flowers and work,
she begin to scold him gently for his want
of confidence in her. i
. “There is something you are keeping
back from me, dear/’ she urged. In tremb-
| ling tones, “something yon ate afraid to
tell me. Papa, why need you be afraid?
I Ws are not two people, you and I—we are
I one, and what hurts one of us, hurts the
I other—doesn't it?" ,
1 ’! . ..u w Ki...»rn:" i».■;riwi.r« d Mr.
I Dodson, putting his arms about her; and
I Amoret, drawing the kind gray head down
I to her bosom, held it there in a long, ckae
1 i . , th i? UtilM sprak l" l.litl
I without his seeing the tears she could not
I keep back.
I “Tell tne, papa—speak openly to me,”
|shs plraded; and then, little by little, Mr.
Audaon did unfold the cause of his anxiety
i> her.
“The doctors are agreed,” he said. “They
>lh advised me to set my affaira in order
■—nay child ’—as Amoret in suite of her*
■self, uttered a cry of pain—“It will not
■happen any tha sooner because we are
■warned—but it is of you that I am think-
|isf. 1 cannot rest night or day when 1
1 •' . ■ • ,V si.me in lh«* Vf.tr..1
: . ii.i i>»- it l *••;« to leave you."
Amoret sal up and faced him bravely.
h(<Bgh the sharp word of sorrow had
pierced her very heart,
i “We will talk of it together, pans,” she
Mid cheerfully “Of course it distresses
you. Lei us think about it, dear. What
peuid you like me to do if—if—” The
hards died on her lips, the little face was
isUr^ than ever, but smiled bravely.
I “Well, you know, my darling,” he be-
|‘o. “even if all rocs well with me, you
d avr to Hurry reli.e day.”
I “OhP The poor child’s heart sank
fithin her. “You would like me to mar
riously stall. 1”—with a tremulous laugh
—“I wan so happy to be with you, 1 cared
for nothing else; but now—it is different.
And it would really make yon happy if I
were to marry couain Tom? It la the
thought of this that has been fretting you
of late?”
“Yea; the thought of what might hap
pen—and you friendless. And so I wrote
the other day to the cousins, and I asked
him to come to see ua; but I was afraid
thstvou—■”
“That I should laugh at Tom again
when hscasi«?”ssksdAscrst. “But in
died, I won’t, dear 1 I—I don’t mind cou-
feasiog to you”—the girl set her teeth and
clenched her hands,though the pretty.fond
smile never left her lipa—“that I always
liked Tom a little bit; wud tow, if my mar
rying him will set your mind at real, and
relieve yon from any funhtr auflering,
why, all I have got to say is that I think
lama very lucky girl to find such a good,
sensible, kind-hearted husband as Cousin
pretty swiss ealon lent itself bo delightfully
as back-ground, with its polished floor and
carved cabinets red chimney piece, its Mae
cDinaclock its spiudle legged chairsfand ta-
blraand every wheie the glimmer of the tall
white lillies with which Amoret loved to fill
the bowls and jars.
This mutual inspection occupied only a
*ry few moments, and then the yoaDg man
having inquired with due politeness after
Miss Dobsou’s ankle, seated himself upon a
chair close to her sofa, produced from his
•ocket tho watch and rings which she had
lieved were lost forever,
“I forgot these last night,” ho said; “I
ns in such a hurry to get back to Jack—
to my friend Cadogan.”
“Ob,”cried A orct, blushing with joy,
“how very good of you to have got them
back for me! They are mv mother’s rings
—I thought I never should see them any
niori'!' 1 h(k- ?-1i|-|“«1 tbfm .,n to l.*r ►d.-mlrr
finger, for which the beautiful old jewels
seemed far too heavy, and covered them
tith childish kisses.
Your maid told me that the fellow had
robbed you," returned the young man ; ‘ai,d
of course I made him give the things up.
And when I had ieen Jack I wentout again
and p Jt the police on the scoundrel's track
It i- Hot "fi.-n k 'i« ii tilings i q.-.fi? m
parts; but”—turning to Mr. D^baon—*“!
«!ou'l think Mi- |> . t t<» o « ‘•o far
again by herself—it is hardly safe.”
“Oh please don’t blame me!” said Amo
ret, laughing, and putting her hands up to
her ears. “Of course I will never do it
again—I never did it before. I don't know
what put Into my head; and I could never
have believed that a man could be so cow
ardly. and so-so dreadful.” She blushed
idly again, and then suddenly turned
pale.
“I think indeed it haa been a l
her,’, obeerved Mr. Dobaoo, smoothing the
girl’s brown hair with his trembling hand;
“for sha is laid upon her sola fur many
a day to come. And if it hadn’t been for
you, Mr. Aakam ”
“•Oh,” interposed Roland, with energy,
“I am only sorry I let the fellow off so ea
sily! If 1 had known all’—with an in
voluntary glance at the'pictnresqne h* »d
among the pillowr, of which Amoret waa
demurely aware—“I would have broken
everjr bone in his body.”
A few moments later Mr. Askatu arrived
t« find his model established on her sofa,
d lookiegeven preitier,it seemed to him,
than she had looked the day before.
“Ab, you have put on th it pretty white
gown again,” he exclaimed—that is right
—and tne bit of yellow velvet! You shall
'nled among your white friendh there,
-■ wd! -Mid u (> p'< t ii re to the acad
emy as‘A Bunch of Lillies,’or something
of that sort.”
“No, nonsense phase!" said Amoretse-
rely; and then biting her lips to keep
hersel! from smiling with pleasure, she
pro< tedtil ti? “poM " herself in obedience to
the artist's suegealions.
Y'our head a little more to the light
ue—not too much! There — that will
do capitally!” and Roland drew hack a
little and contemplated her with 'an ab
sorbed air.
“Ob, paps, what fun it is!” cried Amc-
ret, without turning her head. * 1 do hope
the picrore will be pretty,’
Tne aitting lasted an hour, and w
livened by the gayest talk
rid.
, dear me,” thought Miss Dobson,“T
Ask&m had juat come from
aud he begau tn ie.1 Amorot about
Bernhardt in “Jean d’ Arc." Then li
scribed some of the pictures i
hition of tbe Iocoheicnt Arts,
Paris was laughing just then;
that passed to tbe plot of Msssentl'b new
opera “Esclirmonrie’”
Amoret felt aa if the could goon“posing"
and listening forever.
“I am sorry it is over,” she said frankly,
when Roland declared that he would not
bother her any longer.
The young man laughed and sat down to
the piano.
“Thia !a Sybil Sanderson'# sonp.with the
famouVEtfftl tower’ rote in“ Esc! amende,"
he asld, beginning to play aDd to ling in a
very agreeable baritone voice.
Amoret held her breath so as not to 1om>
a note. It seemed *ostrange and so agree
able to hear a man play She thought it
waa only professor* end music masters who
did so. 1 he cousin* at Manchester only
whistled.
“I wish I had practiced more at school,"
she thought remorsefully, “or that Tom
could sing like Mr. Askam. The evenirr*
will be dieadfuily dull at Ivy IUuk. Pa
pa and 1 are alwaya gay when we are to
gether; wees n always find something io
talk and laugh about, but Tom is so very
silent, and he Dkra such a longtime to
d the new’spaper. However—” and she
, half of resignation, half of
* jf^ang man’s pride ami pleasure to
"1 'i.ive papa and you Lave C'iin," Amo-
ret lt^ : !. "I ’in underMard how fond
you are of your brother, aud you t an un
derstand that I would do anything any-
thiiig .the wide world for papa!”
Tl.is convenation drew the y ting peo-
|‘l«-‘ t t'.ir more closily than nu nibs of
ordinary acqnaint&ncesnlp could have
done. Aim rti felt what it must be like to
have a big brother, she declared and As-
i :im a isLc d that be < ould have hadssy mpa-
tbelic little sister like her to make a home
for him ani for Clinton, and to be the con-
t'dante of all hla hop** and donbis and
plans for tha future.
“Papa,” said Amoret thatstmo evening,
‘ 1,0 you know that I think that Mr. Askam
is very poor? lie has not said so,of couise;
hut 1 am »are of iL His mat in *n shabby
poor fellow, an«l he hia Clin to take care
< f. Clinton is his bio'.her, papa; he is
only 12 It will be a long time, won't it.
.m f re Clio can d> anything for himself?''
“Well?” said Mr. Dobson gently.
She
n hia face Raw that he was agitated.
*• down in s moment from her high
continued Amoret, nestling
rh»e< r up'to his side, “In the first place, I
want you to give Mr. Askam a very big
a the exiii-i check indeed for my | ortraiL Isn’t it
at which all well done? Even Franc ine cried out yea-
nd from **rday that it waa rc»cmblant comme
«.ot?' t
w “I ii ink Askam is very clever indeed,”
assented Mr. Dobson heartily. “And I am
->•:« be only wants to be known to get
plenty •* ' ' ”*
“Time's a letter from Toro, darling,” he
iwgan, hi" lips • rt-mbling
The girl glanced nl'him with an anxiety
she could tot for the moment rettrair;
then,remembering, she smiled, and said
brichtlr—
“Well, dad r
“Hebat had my letter; he_ will conic.’
He*|okewith difficulty, his heart was
bea ing violently.
“Boon?”
“Y’et; soon. As soon as be cm poshly
be spared. There is some lit'lc d'fflruhy
aboif. the business it seems. I'robablc n
"Tliat is all right then, dear!” declaml
Amoret, nodding at him gayly. “WesbsU
be very irlad to see him; we will t ake all
rts of excursions, and show cousin Toi
the beautiescf ’.lie lake of Geneva.”
To be sure,” scented Mr. Bo’a or,
his daughter’s cheerfulness ns’ering I
ourage as usual. “Askam must join us,if
le can spare the time :he knows more about
it than we do.”
i*s Amoret made no reply to this. 8h
o(Tended wiili Mr. A-k tn.; 'i' •
coarse papa did not know that. Roland,
howero-, an»wen d, in spite cf the youn^
lady's cold lo>k. that he would be very
glad that it va<the fashion miwM lay t‘>
lespisethat special corner of Swi serf and,
but that there were lovelier spots in tl
world.
Then I am to tell Tom to make haste
said Mr. Djbeon. looking vrx.fully at bis
little daughter, hisone trrn-ure that was
so soon to betaken from him. “I think I
had better answer his letter at once
seemed a little undecided, and there i
in his delaying—the scenery I
pretty jnst no or.
Again the haggard look that Amoret
I ‘ ? the dear
sir. You can paint and play, and you
havo rood bo many beautiful and won-
rful books! Why, even 1 have learned
i you to lovo Schumann and lleeth-
». and to mi* tiling-* a I .t • .■ i i* w sth
r eyes, aud to understand a few lines
1 and thcro of Wordsworth and Mat
s’Arnold and Morris, I atn -are I
ibl grow min h mum Mus.ble, and
ink about deeper and better things, if
to bo always together as wo
“Ac«l I have been thinkier, when my por
trait is finished whv should he not paint
/oar** Please pfease! It shall be vour
wedding present to me, dear; I will hang
it up in my own reom at Ivy Bank.”
“IVar me," said Nr. Dobson nervously,
“I never sat for mv portrait in »y life.”
•‘All the morereaem," declared Amoret Again the haggard loo
coaxicgly, “that you should do so now, knew and dreaded parked
when so good an opportunity occurs!
And then think of little Clin, ps^a! And
ihinkof me when 1 am away, with noth
ing bnt a shi ‘ * ** '**'
own old dad
■frieved—'“that I in gbt be allowed for once
o have my own way, papa!”
“For once!” echoed Mr. Dobson, with a
•mileof resignation. “That means that, is
isnal, I am to do as I au» t <ld sud prove
read the newi
**JM
a-k- me. And. oh”—as the team began to
roll down her face—“what a twinge ray
foot gate me jt*t then! Ob, there's at.-
oihrr! Whai ababy 1 am to cry; but 1
lly can’t help it, and I am ai happy as
anucent Yes. as haunt a queen!” . __
“My little Amoret; tuy gold child 1” Mr. nn>D »n a *'
DobiMi murmured, clasping her in his
arms and laying his cheek down upon her
brown head.
Tom won’t go about the world breaking
people’s bones for mo—that is one comfort.
These very voung men,” looking dispar
agingly with her eyes of 10 at Roland,
with his 20 years of manliness and good
health, “are so impetuous, io foolish!”
Tha young fellow went on talking with
Mr. Dobson, and Amoret lay end listened
in a kind of dream,In which her interview
that morning with the doctor and her con
versation afterward with her father
seemed to blend oddly with an account
Mr. Askam was giving of a recent tour in
Holland and of the sketches which he had
made.
Bo he waa an artist. No donbt that
why his coat had smelt of tobacco; artists
were always smoking. And be would go
cn wandering about all over the beemifal
world long after she was married to Tom
and had set lied down In th* I nnu at Man.
cheater. Men were enviable creatures--1 Mr. Ibb cn hospitably. “Cc
they never need marry unless lhey| chose! I Amoret shall give ut some
I hw t uMgo»hrn- li p’.mim «K> .1-. i.u,-. Wi si l \Gi*et l.«*r i
i hev pi* i* - ! Ton. —T «>m l t.uri nil * ‘ f„r an l.*„ur »r two twill
I'.b-L.rn.. hand. H .w Mrauge it are,„rd | \,* ! ■ • \i«,
and what a iitr that afi>* neetl have a
_t * "f one would have liked her
S kxe n siK". nM1 w ieri|juaiiuu, uau ui
elight, aa Roland, changing the key, be
gan some other pretty fragment of the new
opera, at the end of which be sprang up.
declaring that he must get back to tbe
Beau Bi e, that his frirnd Cadogan would
be wondering what had become of him.
“Oh. but it ii just luncheon-time P aahl
Amoret a little piteously, with a glance :
the clock: and Mr. Dobron joined h<
hvartily in urging Roland to remain.
The young artist, however, was not
be tempteJ.
“I promised Jack,” he said simply. ‘
should be very glad to stay—I slonld HI
nothing better -but Jack is alcnv, and
told him I would cc rue bick. lie is to «
up to-day for the first
gray face.
“Vi
•* 7 0C » .
fully. “Give Tom my love and tell h^u to
isbby little photograph of my make haste!"
I to look ai! 1 do think”—«g- Mr.DoUnn,relieved bnt wistful still,
gave his little girl a kin and then went up
to the salon to write hia letter.
There was silence for a few minutes
the studio Amoret sat looking down at
her clasped hamlt; Roland was going on
quietly with his work. But at last the
S irl looked up and smiled a little tremu
susly at him.
“So that is quite settled,” she said, i
ing quickly, with a pertinent look*
waa very croea and hasty jnst now. Please
(nreivs m*!”
“Mias Dobson!” exclaimed Roland hasli
Jr, dropping hia bru*h and going over ti
the sofa to take the little trembling bam
ahe held out.
Yes, I was!" Amoret insisted,
e you, for the matter of that"—laugh
ing and blushing. “But we want qu
any more.
Not until the next time,” assented Be
darling dad P’she cried ch«
u rK*ec Mima *f*.l dir* wtfn ti.- M
lock hi)
t'*r<
IK
leeifly, arii. | “Tbe
on the t. r .Sid gr
into tbe air | Mr I*
her gicd.’ • Oh,
.V * 'leu'',.* ! *
myself the most obedient of fathers.'
“ A cd the dearest!’'declared Amoret.kiat-
ing him affectionately, and turning her
bead away, ao that he ahonld not tee the
lean that had sprung in her eyes, aa they
alwaya did now at every fresh proof of her
fathir'i love!”
f Oo the following morning, when Roland
arrived to go on with hia work, Amoret
unfolded her plan. Papa was going to
bee him to paint hia nort<ait al*n. it wa«
toT>e her wedding present Mr/ Askam
until be sure to make it verr. very like—
not flattering like hers, which was far too
Httty, but with eviry line and every gray
hair showing so that the dpar face might
■v wa»s be with her aa she remembered and
loveu it best.
Thera was a little break in the girl's voice
i->: f spoke, anl Roland looked up from
pilette to see her brown eyes full of
snothi
( wrong, I hope?”
n’t besr to tee you c
rasa to-dar V*
more ten timer t, and she began to draw
pictures of their life when she should be
married, and how she meant to queen it
over poor Ned and poor Jim in the villa
of Kuaholme.
“Thev will spoil me, you know,” she
•aid; 'iratTom will be more severe. He
is so sensible. He will keep me in order,
as you do, dad.”
“Exactly; aa I do 1" assented poor Mr.
Dobaoo, hi* sad heart warmieg intohtppi-
neaa again under the sunshine of Amorel'a
gaiety.
Barely, he said tohimaelf, the thought of
the marriage could cot he altogether dis
tasteful to the child, since ahe coaid talk
and laugh about it so easily. He felt him
sell wonderfully cheered by his daughter's
good spirits, anl the two were chatting to
gether very happily when the door wae
opened and Francine announced “Mr.
Aakam.”
Mr. Dcbeon arose with eagerness to meet
tne yonng man, while Amoret smiled at
him from among her pillows and held oat
her hind.
“Pape must try to thank von, Mr.
Aakam,” the said ;“1 am alraid I cannot.
Rot it b not because I am not very grate
ful.”. Bhe blushed as she spoke; ahe was
guiltily conscious of having almost for
gotten her protector of the George de Chan
il eron ; it seemed to her that so much had
hap; coed since the previous night. Bhe had
experienced dread and sorrow; she had
given her life away to couain Tom.
“I called this morning at your hotel
Mr. Askam,” Mr. Dobson was saying; “but
they told me you were out. When you
know all that my little girl here is to me.
you will understand what I feel toward
the man who befriended her in a great
danger.”
Roland Askam pressed the trembling
hand of the speaker and said a few quie.
words. He saw how ill Mr. Dobson was,
and conld understand his daughter’i
iely of the previous evening, and then,
in order to give the invalid time to com
pose himrelf, he turned to speak to the
young lady on the sofa, and tne two young
people regarded each other with s<
. ural uirioMty.
Ml .rV?3r ou ’.,, , „. . Amoret saw a tall, strong, fair young
I think it would be beet,” he answered. man of abool 3* *ho was decided/ ss
Dunk how it would ease my mind if I ^ lookingasshecouidpoeaiblyhtvede-
•daee you settled m a.borne of your , ire j her hero ^ ^ frank tmile
*• W * kind hudsand who would showed the whitest of tee.b, his well-chis-
c * f# ®*7? a w ^* en .. , . ] eled no e , crisp-brown beard and s?;uare
* *1* I>» whatshe would, she could honest forehe a<l, his “eyes of dangerous
gray,” all seemed to Miss Dobeon just wbst
sli /uld accompanv the kind voice and the
strong arms that nad come to Jher in her
Mr. Askam, on his side, was thinking at
the tsait moment that he was more than
rewarded for the loss of bis dinner the
night before. Until then, Amoret had
been to him, as he to her, little more than
a voice, a faint, faint fragrance of violets,
Ike flutter ef a ribbon against hie cheek-
and a aufliciently substantial weight in his
arms.
He looked at her now with his keen ar-
■, and aaw a very young face
life alwaya to go on as it was now to be I thev were alone, “do y. u mean Mr.
alone sitL L*i Slvl&x •** »m*Liu« 14o uve at ise Vilis ficsuiki.uir*
with beautiful and wond/rfnl lights aur-1 “My dear child,” (tied Mr.
mniulin* h*r and m d*liru»u* «»u»nr«! •*«e*d*t:«*d
1 promised t<
said Amoret demurely, a hen
Askam
Do User,
biding *.Ke future from her eyee. lint to
marry, and to live in Macheater when the
was only — ah ” ahe drew a long
breath and woke up from her reverie.
“No, no, Mr. Askam,” Mr. Dob*oo was
saying—for Roland Askam had stood up
to go—“we are not going to Ut you off like
that! You must star u> lunch with us —
you must, really. We have not half had
our talk out; and I can’t make a stranger
of yon after the service yon have done me.
It waa wy life you gave me back last night
with this foolish little girl of mine. 1 am
only an old gooee, but I am fond of her,
you see, and—”
“It la surprising of oourae,” said Roland
langhing. lie looked again at the charm
ing brown head among the pillows, and
the gray eyes and the browu met in a
glance that each felt to be agreeable.
“01 coarse, you can both say what you
like now,” observed Amoret meekly, “l
am not able to defend myself."
“I tell you what, Mr. Askam.” Mr. Dob
son went on: “you shall paint her pox tali,
if you have time, It will amuse her while
ahe is tied tn the sofa there. Whst do you
say, Amoret?”
“Oh!” was all that Amoret said.
brow neyes opening very wido in delight
and surprise.
“Thera, you see, Mr. Askam!” said the
fond father. “We can rig von up some
thing in the way of a studio—there's the
little book room that 110 one ever goes near
you ern take ^rour time over it, so it
need not interfere with yonr other work.”
“Ob. as to lLat,” decdared the artist.
W.th lii- frank laugh, "l am not working
at all just now 1 1 came here to have a
look at an old friend who is stopping at a
hotel close by here, and who has been laid
ianl.
“No; but reallr
urged pileosuly. 1
1 it!" Am
all my hs
iw. When :
1st all be serious. Ton
Jt rrj ress a sharp cry of ps
"Oh. my little Amore:, the father sa
lted, and in a moment they were in each
Wf owe spisjssd !;i;g •Hr*'.*? L**rt
I heart.
lit was tha girl who recovered herself
PU Was sot all excitement forbidden
I her father? Kbe sat up, laughing, and
kpi on in a verv mstter-of fact tooe—
IA nice pair of grew we are dad, to be
ftti g about my marriage. Whv, of
>ur*e, every girl carries. Yon would not
** foe tear poor little Amoret to be sn
*d maid would you? No of course not?
■now that is settled, and I will makel
Me and fall in love. Only, with whom!
rthat ie the question."
L'L there no one—no one at all,” began
ti»l s glance, and aaw a very youi
with great brown eyes raised to hia
deric;; admiration and gratitude.
...«rsnoon*-no »««•''- “***“ Amaral waa alwav. pale, but ahe had a
Jt. lH*b *.n nervously, “whom yoo have prettj red, flower fike mouth, an l she
w* that yowesuld learn to like? , \ olmhed readily when people sr*kr to her.
tty brows, parsed |
ii.- 1 .1 »r ! ;.* tl.
the am she had seen io her
Pap^- •: r -. 1,: .. g a lilt!**
*c*Uy “I have met so lew people!
>*/*U Mr.tini t*.e here, »:»
•lily when peopl*
ller brown hair wascropj-nl behin*l 1
buy’*, and in front itcuried in a mss
•oft little Tin** over her while fore
and delicate dark eyebrows.
Lying among her pillows, in a 1
gown and with a kn* t of yellow velvet [mo
fed under lierwift • urn .be Linked a stu-ly y.»i
I re\ !vhi. <de, Roiand Askam thought, Kr a
(cnaruang little tableau de genre. And the 1 —
Then you won't refase?” asked Mr.
Dobson, anxiously.
“On the contrary, sir, I am very much
obliged to you for the commission, a
shall tn to do justice to my subjei t.”
“Yes, do—do! It will I* a memento for
poor papa when Cousin Tom walks ofl
the orginal."
“Ah, ahe U engaged!” thought Roland
looking with fresh interest at the pretf
pale girl. “Surely she is very young
“It is nothing, papa--it is only my foot
that pains me!” said Amoret hastily, as
her lather, noticing her palor, bent down
to ask what was the matter.
*T<*< ; > hi!*l, y* *i w.nni your Iunch*on, I
daresay! Come Mr. A*kim and I
wheel yonr sofa into the dining-room, and
to-morrow the famous portrait shall be be
gun!”
CHAPTER f Y
The little bookroom waa duly giVen up
to Mr. Aikam’e ease and paintiog mate
rials, and when Amoret wa* csrriml down
stairs and next day, she found it convert
ed into a studio, and scented deliciously
with great sheaves of her favorite while
lillies, that had been placed in every
available corner.
“Oh, how delicious, papa!”ehe il iJ | u
she was helped across the room to th«* *ofa.
“And whert did all the** pretty thing*
come from? I did not think the villa c< n-
Uioed them.”
“Ob, Mr. Askam muled them out of the
lumber room. That bls< k and gold m rr*n
sod that Venetian embroidery and tho-**
t’U- there »iuld |‘4. .‘I ,.*.«r full of
them. And h* has been arranging the
W«ll, 1 only wanted to know”—more
demurely still. “It seems to me that since
he had declined to lum h with ns”~herr
tbe young lady tomed her brown head im
perceptibly—“it wss hardly necessary to
Invite him to dinner on the* came day, and
to afternoon tea into the bargtin!”
“Necessary V echoed Mr. IeL** n, fam
ing a little. “1 don't knew what you
mean by 'necessary/ child! Bat 1 do
think that common gratitude for what he
did for yon—a perfect stranger—”
“Well, he would hardly wait to be in
troduced,” Mis* Amoret Interposed coldlf,
“when be found a man robbing me in the
(inrge de Chanderon! Bnt you are always
ao tnthnaaiastic, papa! Y’aa yon sro—you
know you areT—as poor Mr. Dobson at
tempted to otter a mi id protest.
“Upon my word,” he declared, “one
think it was an every dav occur-
renew for a man to knock a drunken ruf
fian down and carry a young lady for miles
tn bis stum! I—1 ara surprised at
A n..'fet
Amoral began to laugh and to hag hia.
“Yoa dear old dad,” she said, “have
yonr own wav! Only don’t forget that
warned yon!”
“Warned me! Of what?” demanded Mr.
Dobeon. opening his eyes.
“Of the imprudence you are committing
io inviting this Mr. Askam at all hours of
the day, and in giving him the rnn of the
house Suppose”—clasping her hands 1
glancing down demurely—“supp
ere to fall in love with him!”
1 leave all that to Tom to settle,”
turned Mr. Dobson equably. He had
much fear of such a c.tla«troi>he.
'Or suppose,”continued Amoret ruth-
Ira-It “nui'po-e Mr. Askam were to fall
in love with me? What an embarrassing
what a painful position 1 shall be in,
dad I”
“Nothing more improbable,” returned
the father “Why you corn-sited pur*, do
you suppose because Tolu and Ned and Jim
fell iu love aI lir-t sight that every other
young man 1- bound to do the same? ’
“.^ranger things have hap|>ened,'*
Amoret loftily.
“Well, I can always give Askam a hint
you know, that you are engaged.”
“Engaged 1 echoed Amoret, all the light
of fun andmivhief dying out of her young
face! “Of course—I hid forgotten* that’
Ob, bow odd it sounds! Of cuur-e, I
engaged to cousin Tom—If he will have
Miecheck#it herself an l went on
fully—“But you will do your very,
bass wish papa’s picture won't jvu; 1
“Look here,” arid Roland, iu a lone of |
f you really wanted your father’s portrait
here are plenty of men, better known
l.an 1, who would be only too glad to do
t for you.”
“Hui, since we don’t know them, ard
they are not here," urged Amoret, alarm-
1, “and yu’i kn< w papa • am. •. tr.tvel
“Yes, I know; hot, all the same, it’s on-
'y for tne sake of giving me an order. I
through the device quite plainly.”
You did not make any fuse about
pointing minef* aggrieved and blushing
• omewhat guiltily.
’No,” Mr. Askam laughed, and blashed
frankly as Amoral herself.
’But that is not qoite the same thing,
you see.”
“Indeed I don’t see! Why is it not the
■me thing?'
“Well, yen know, when I consented to
do yours, I did not know Mr. Dobson or—
yon. It wss merely a matter of Has!
m. Your father chose to consider him-
f under an obligation to me, 1 f elt that
was Utter to allow him to have the sal-
action ef making a re', urn—to say noth
ing of the faa"—langhing again—“that I
1 **inhered bow handy me m ney would
if in ! r < .1. - l*n.» til
Wt-li <!•.?•<!• ■! Vi.u.rri, * ill* .1 lit
lit* gesture of impatience, aa though to im*
piv—“and pray what more natural?”
“Well, how.” the young rasn went on
painting busily tbe while, “after all the
onderful kindness and hoxpiulily I have
1 from Mr. Dobson, after all you
l.l I I L... <»1.l l> .
m they 1
r p4Z« J
Look le«s#
THU UIIM.ST t,H\M YKT.
It 1YI11 finite (he 7lo
Thau 100 aillei
Tho ambition of the astronomer to
probodeuper and deeper into the fath- t
omless dopth*- < f ^pacu and to bring order ’o *
to hia aiglit, for bis mind tells him that \
havo been for the past week or ao
o a dear little girl,” said Ro
land abrupth -“a dear little sister that
any man might be proud of!"
"Then, if 1 am, you must go on being
ery go>l »u me,"’rejoined Amoret, col
oring with pleasure, "and more than
when Tom cornea. Tom will bring
tho business in his pocket, you know,
1 he will goon thinking about it, oven
when the sun is grtliug behind tbe
mountain-*. Tom’ -'.*■ t k** i I * t- If
ldenly. and drew away her hand,
which Roland was still bolding between
"Torn K 1 *i*.ir f . <*d ■ 1 1
Tom,” she added steftdilj; '*an<l it is
Xj kind of him to marry mo and take
care of mo! I am very aorry
laughed at him; I will never laugh at
him again - never—ne—verr
[to k cottixceix. J
DRCLI.1B OP ?uuu:u?i pir riow.
a »lorf serious 111 il 11 -
ml r..»\ i i.
Henry Waterme ha UsitevlOe 4 'cxirter JmrnaL
irlv twenty year* ago, speaking to
xditors of Indiana, 1 undertook to
n-tr.it** tl.r.t ''• ■ 1 ■ ■ • f mi igiii.it iv •*
literature was gone by, and that the
and the novel, as vehicles of
it and iniiTors of nature, would bx
icd hy the newspaper, which, as a
iiitlui'tii «• ai.-1 1 ■ .nnu 11*I i • in .■
forth iii'Ltuq * li/o the higher functions of
both. The suggestion encountered a
good deal of journalistic joking. In
o<rf of its correctness, howeve r, be-
•hl tbo plentitude of tbe proas, tho pov
erty of tho stag**, the sterility of romance
and pootry, oxer since, and now! within
la • t t"<* <h*L , 1. - \\h it l.a\t» w.* h.i'I
outside the theatric peychologies of Eola,
1 tho studies iu realism of Tourgeneff
and T* 1 -toi. «*\< t pi "■ l. it I 1. a> . all "th**
robotic" in this peculiar lino such aa
tho ingenious tale* of Jules Verne and
Rider ilaggard; and Baiaac, condensed
anil warmed over by Daudet, and all tho
thud ■ *>f ‘lii tl '• I *>.<’1. t-? H'l.ipt* l I V
th* Jams and HowsUa tribe of pbotogro-
nhora in England an<l America? If
•n should [die, who la tLero. de-
aerving tbe name of poet, to take his
place as laureate? What it.ago j r. due -
, I, , . I . i 1 : • t!. 1:1 .1 h :i *•!. 1
1, though tbe theatre has had Irving,
w Ua~*Ii S iiS«if»ww J ..IT nrarin UnnJ.
jeska. Lcrnhardt. WynJhaui. Co#»uel
Barrett and Toole, and a host of sccno
painters and upholsterers to sustain it?
In trulh, the world of fancy has nothing
more to give uv Bret liar to was, at:
Kudyard Kipling is. In a sense strikin
if nr.t original; but tho ouo soon uaed 1
t 'alifornia. as the other will soon ti«o 1
British India, ami loth arc th# mere
sketch# ra, dealing in charcoal and wat
order exi»ta) out of the apparent confu
sion has kept the glaasmakors and opti
cians busy. With tho result that tbe iivo-
inch single lenses of Huygliens. that ro-
nuired a local length of -10, 50 or 100
feet, were unproved upon by tho inven
tion of tho achromatic lens by Holland,
upon wbicli subsequent improvement haa
U en made only inquaUtvond power, an 1
not in principle. Tho four-inch lens of
Holland in I^ijO developed into the
nine-inch lens in 16.50, and from is 15 to
l^Gl tho fifteen-inch tehscojies at Har
vard observatory and at 8t. l’eteriburg
wero the largest and most powerful in
struments in tho world. From that pe
riod till to-day tl.o size and ]xjvrer have
constantly increased—first to eighteen
inches, then to twenty-three, twenty-
six, thirty, thirty-six, and now
the Clarks of Cambridge, will
ever goon bo working upon one forty inches in
diameter. At various stage.*of tho prog
ress of teloecopo-mak ing it waa thought
that the limit of useful power had been
reached, but after each increase it was
found that with a proper selection of site
tho density of tho atinosphero di 1 not
intarferaso much with the observer.-* a*
waa anticipate i.
Tl.o great progress intelo^opo making
an*l tho consoquont development of as
tronomy are duo in a great measure to
tho elforts of ono house, that of tho
C’larka of Cambridge. I11 M<> Alvan
Clark, Sr., was making 7 ami 8-inch r<-
of great excellence. In G»H tho
Clarks made a teloscopo with an 1 Vinch
aperture. Tho 26-iocii refractor of tho
naval observatory at Washington was
the ma»torpiece of *ta Jay, ami was
made by tbo Clarks in 1873. A
duplicate of this was mode for the
University of Virginia, a 25-inch for
Frinceton. and then ono of 50 inches for
the St. Petersburg Conservatory. Next,
theSC inch Lick tolebcupo wua made, ami
fiimily they havo readied the ID-inch
glass. Most of thc&e tciesco|>oa wero at
tbe time tho largest and most powerful
m **M-t*-n. .*, .iu l the3*1 inch, the b'i-uu h
and llio 40-inch had no com peers. No
other opticians in tho world ate prepared
to underlako tho t:u>k of making louse*
of the last-named size.
The work of shaping theso great lenses
is of tho mobt delicate description, the
least departure from entire accuracy lin
ing sufhcient to spoil the result of years
of work. N mo «*f tho work of fashion
ing tli** I- ii -- 1. machinery, hut
tho uuiAt of it it ilimn l.y hand, th a
Mud.mg tuuchcH being n * otn|ditlio*l
by tho rubLing of tbo thumb
covered with rouge over the -urface. In
fact, alter the lens haa been to the cyo of
the 1 lyiuan I.HHhcl, the hardert work
. In nil the art-, tie ream th*mo who
have skill ami those who have genius. The
skillful Optician should go to work and
mathematically figure tho curve* of the
gl.v os, and if these calcubtions were
. .>rr.-« t tbo Ion* would bo cimmI. Tim
g. mu** f.talii**.1H it r -lt W.th hut the in«’i*
[ilentalu-* of meo-mrem ents, <kv£L<l*ng
1 up* n hir ♦•}*> mui judgim-nt, wines are
I m *r*» unerrm.: than mathomatio*. Tho
< at kn \ «l. n. l*> the onier of genius.
id • (Tort to do <* 1 th*
> driven Ut m
Ikii
In- li th
□.with a proud
nong the piL
old 1
ie, and I have tohl yon”—sim
ply—“it is no looter qoite the same,
know you, and 1 like youth toowsllto be
able to make a bargain with you."
“How '.ill r v ab 1 r«i ' ' < rir 1 Atn cirat .11
dignant!/. “15vc;uw v ni like ua, you re
fuse to do us akindn*-*-! Do yen mean
tbit you !iat«* !»li Vuiir -i• t« r-
‘‘Who is absurd now?" demanded Ro-
landnrornfully. “No; I will paint your
fathet’s portrait with the greatest pleasure
in the world; I will take such pains aa I
have nevt r lak-n !• '-</. . ev«n with lus
dauthter’s—ind that is eaying a great
deal—but the pictor* shall be my wedding
present lu Mr*. ( hurt Mil
"iLn’i"’ exclaimed Amoret crossly.
“Y« 11 have been disagreeable enough al
ready, without begincicf to call name*. I
don’t care”—tossing her bead—“whether
you piint the portrait or pot, and I shall
not s iv another word on the subject—ao
e, I thi
A-k a
and 1
' -If, h;
1 Amoret deuiurcly hi. laiuily -
It waa daring the fourth nr fifth sitting
for tbe famous |>ortrait that Tom Cha rtb
ill'- reply t*. Mr. I*. I.n arrive*).
Roland and Amoret were chartering ar.d
laughing together a - gailv as two children
disputing, arguing, falfingout and mak
ing it up agun, ae if they had known
each other for yearn instead of a week.
The father, sitting on the »un-w»rnied
terrace outside the open windows of the
improvi-ed studio, could hear all that wa
it,ing on, and occasional!/ call Mi«a Amo
ret to order when »he ix-caine too imperil*
Thr girl fell that-he had a perfect right
now to be imi-erlineal to Roland Askviu.
He had t.dd her all sUut him-elf. aud «be
had ionfide«l am fullv in hiui. He knew
about her eiigageuieut to cousin T<mi sn*l
her anaiety * n the •ore *.f Mr. D h- nV
health. Ht,.- had learned that Roland «a»
almost as mu* h alone in the world a- her-
a little brother left o! all
. ...lie brother 12 year- "Id,;
i who was at school, and tor whom it was l
“Oh P Roland gave vent to a low and
net ul whistle. “What a little shrew!
But A morel did not answer; she only
«!d uet head high aud Mi kmkiMg «Im>
ul that the artist paused in die-
=2 = !hr t !r‘ s!
, _ sing a big breath. “Until to
day I did not feel really engag' d. Thrr*
raa always the cha* re that T. m ha.)
ban;’* d ' - mi* d - m * I a.i i i >! .
ter, and that now he won d refuse me."
“Hither a feeble chance, 1 aa afraid,’
observed Roland in bia hrotherly way.
Amoret blushed.
“I mean," she said hurriedly “p* eraare.-
Tom knows that I do not care f »r h'mn
cept aa acoc* : n. 1 used to Ian*b »» him
in Manchester. A nd now ’
“Y'our counn will be good toy op’” Ro
land asked gently.
**Oh,good," she exclaimed—“yoa dan’*
knowhow good! I am really a very lock/
girl! first pape, and then ’I ora P
\noth**r psu-e en* <: ■! Mr. 4 .-ksm did
not seem dtepcard cr able to contribute
much to the cooversation.
“Aod yet it seems a pity," the girl went
on preeently, half absently and more to
her-e f than to R ilsml.
“How a pit/P he asked, unconsciously
lowering hia vo ce.
“A pity that 1 -hould be engnyed and
married without ever having been in
ove. l’spa ai.*l iii-iiuina married for love;
it must be verv nice to be in love with
your huabmnd."
“Itnpp -r to,” said Roland, smiling, his
eyes still fixed upon the girl’s pretty do*
csst lashes.
Suddenly she looked up at him.
“Y’oa suppose -ciP she echoed. “Then
you hive never been in love, eilhc
“Never."
“Ah”—with a little inflection of
pointmtnt “then you can’t tell m
thing shout it! 1 surqx-e pspa could;
hut 1 don't like to ask him -I * »nt him to
that 1 am fond ef Torn. Ami
ti I think 1 would rather hoar about
•oni you than from papa."
Why" asked Mr. Askam, smilii
“Oh. because you are young. I a
tint a**h line I to talk a! *>ut it to yc.u; it
like talking to my big brot'.er, y<
knMinlmg back at him.
••Yes," Roland as-onted; “I hope it is.
Il make* me >« rv happy to hear you »•
so. Y’ou can cay ju»t what you | lea*
to m.\ though I cannot give )**u at.y in
formation, unluckily, about falling in
low*. Hut you know . .!< u t \.,u I
am very much interested in your roar-
na.t*. and, iinle.d, in ewntt.ing tl,.it
con^'erne you or your fatbevr
“Y’ee," tbe girl answered gratefully.
And then a# l.e claej e l tiie hand ahe
lull out frankly to him. there wa*
another p m-*-. 1 he \ i* lure lay n* gl« ci*-l
. : It. . 1---1 ti..- long. *ai ’ii -..III* ,.-1 il
waa doting; anauows were crerptn/
about the con
ITnita.1
all its flabby coarecneeo, ha*
tide of spirit or flaw r, nnd I
bit of traah as might be f<
goody-goody library of mill
itself.
mb ieli. foi
Ho
- to Co
Hank Kill**
rwOsCMfSC' Trto»*
eorat»o kinds of bank Lilia,"
said a man vs bo baa handled a good
many of them* “There are tbe national
bmk bills a .id tbe government notea
Tho former have vigneUte on each end,
latter on the left band end only.
TheTreaaury Department madam mis-
take in putting the % ignetto on tho left
end of tbo government note, for this rea-
Tako a bundle of these bills in a
bank; the bank clerk in counting auch a
bundle places Ills left hand on tho loft
nd of tho bund;.* and count* tho right
rod with hU right t
Tbo v ignelte is the meet difficult tiling
to counterfeit, and for that Ter;
reaa< n it ie counterfeited moat. 1
counting auch Ull* a* 1 bav
been speaking about this vignette i
not teen by tbe lank clerk, and ho u
more ti.il i • t“ « * m.i i:i .1 -! -ii u, n i<*
than if he saw the vignette. Tbo e\|*erl
knows a lad vignette almuat at a gl.ince.
I tt.u.k it tl.- Ire 1 Miry 1 »• | .rtm.-nt had
thought of this tho
been put c*n tbo
■ ), Truilifulneee
1 Ma
belonged t
tli.i
.i.i 1
. He
it raco of men of
had l»**-ti forever
.b-privtd when Lnn* XIV revoked the
I 1 ict of Nantes. Mu father bad t*?**u a
pl.ii.ter m ar * r/utnwn. * ri the < *>u*t,
and tl.o nun, wbilo following *ho daiuh
occupalioo, had been called <*tr to tho
i.y tin
.: l m ts.*-)
made himaelf
strategy,
man of 1
of whi
few
adept
now 4
irds ai
yea
old. a
lud.-.t de
of the bilL”
told to~tho cashier of a Dear
born street l>ank. He *mi!ud wlu-n ho
heard iL “In live first place," ho said.
“bank clerks do not count tills in tho
way you mention. If they do they vio
late orders. Th** instruction* aro that
they -ball handle the bills ao that each
ono will come entirely within the rango
of the eye. I presume thero are viola
tions of thia rule in overy bank. Even ao.
an expert bos other means of detecting u
bad bill than looking at tbe vignett*-.
However, 1 am of tho opinion tl.at the
Wgnelit* well. 1 I hi an additional «-if«—
guard if it wero on the right end of the
note."
Ol Our V oration*.
Janra E. MorDock la Ike 0*ira«*fc«v Fanun.
Tbo truth i«. oar ideas of literature
aro aie**tr**l in the colors of our trades;
our interpretations of hbakesjiearo re
fect our daily live* and calling!. The
merchant measure* him aa bie cotton;
the judge trie* him in bia courts of law.
The oration of Mark Antony, for exam
ple, i* to the clergyman only a funeral
discourse over a departed member of bus
flock; tbe politician views it inertly as
a tine example of political artifice; the
rhetorician delight* in tbe richness of
it. «*ufm* the logician scan# its conclu
sion Tn the light of Ua premises; tin? h
meaner, small in autuxeu.nl slight in
from**, deli< ately organized, but en-
duwfl witii *1 ml. rful m-rtoua «-nergy
and sleep!*-*-* intelligence. I.ike a wo
man in quickness of sympathy, lie was a
knight m cuurh-sy, tiuthfulm-M and
courage.
Tin- i^rightnu** of hi* fame waa nev*r
■nlliod by uu act of cruelty. “Never
shall a house be named by one of my
p. “pb ,”b«- s nd; “t<> d.rtresi womeu
I and children i» what 1 *U-t* i*t." To di*-
tr*»4 tl.o one my in b-grtimate warfare
w,iD, on tlia oilu-r iiaini, a bu.unes* iu
win* h Gw parti-au commander* liava
excelled him. 1 <>r*»w iftnc.s and secrecy
.1-1 unequaled, and tl.o t«d ln«-»* of
exploits reemod ulmost incre«)ible
1 . uiup.iie-1 witii lii*.- un-agrenes* of
esourco*. His force tome tune* con-
l of less than twenty men, and sel-
»de*l
To
the
lie waa obliged to t *ke tlie w*s froui
dawmiUeoinl have them wrought uito
ruiio swdr.i* .it th*» country forge,
while pewter mug* and spoon* were cast
into bullet*. With auch equipment* he
wmikl Mlta> k and overwhelm jiurt.e* of
more than 200 Tories; or he would even
swoop upon a column of British regular*
on llu-ir march, throw thsui into di^r-
der. hut free their prnouers, »lay and
disarm a score or tw o, ami plunge out of
sight m the darkling forest a-* awiftly
aud my itcriuusly aa lie hail come.
.01 K«ca t»f(k Iks
How (be
C*|»i
Fra m tbe Tra»fl'-r*»*.
During a certain v
east ve.v-1 tho mate,
ie L g. ■ • came mt*
waauuuLlo t*> a'.un
fenxe tbo captain ex
tended to the log h
with thia:
yaga of » «town-
vho uiually kept
•ated <>ue day and
to hi* duty. As
omuntted tha* of-
i-.e*l him an*l at-
iiMilf, concluding
and n*
Amoret, who, wu used to note every
(Sooth birthday
of lier 1 outed* rati -u i.«-xt year. Io 1291
tho *1 * ro*t Cantons"—I rt, Schwyz and
UnUrwalden—formed tlio first leagc
“They are *1 | for mutual sufpuvt *nd protection
* iiervos' —sigh- againit iho house «*f liap*turg, and tha*
mauy of u> I led to the foundation of the confedera
tion. 1 he chief f. »tmtie* are to he held
-ys, too!' at Brunnen, on the lake of Lucerne, the
lepeudencw was do-
bundle of “Oh. but you have the great mys, to*
deciarea Amoret, reproachfully. “Y’ou I fpol w bore h»is* inuepemiencw
have notbisg in tbe world to sigh about, * Jared fortuaily some yuxi later.
aid u.o mate, “since
it was true ftb.11 k it hod Utter stood; it
bad Letter sUuJ.''