Newspaper Page Text
MANAS, THE MILLER.
By Seumas MacManus.
Author of "In Chimney Comers,"
Through the Turf-Smoke” and
Other Stories.
Copyright I*oo by Seumas Mac-Menus.
There sss a man from the mountain
named Donal. once married the daughter
of a stingy old couple who lived on the
lowlands.
He used to atay and work on his'own
wee patch of land all the week round,
till it came to Saturday evening, and on
Saturday evening he went to his wife's
fathers to spend Sunday with them.
Coming and going, he always passed
the mill of Manas, the miller, and Manas,
who used to be watohing him passing,
always noticed and thought it strange
that while he jumped the mlllraoe going
to hJs wife's father’s on a Saturday
evening, he had always to wade through
it coming back. For a little time he
notioed this and wondered, and at last he
stopped Donal one Monday morning and
he asked him to tell him the meaning of
It
"Well. I'll tell you,” says Donal. says
he. “It's this. My old father-in-law is
such a vyy small eater, that he says
grace and blesses himself when I've
only got a few pieces out of my meals,
so I'm a ways weak coming back on Mon
day morning.
Manas, he thought over this to himself
for awhile, and then says he: "Would
you mind letting.me go with you ne<xt
She reached It to him In the dark.
Saturday evening? If you do, I promise
y u that you’ll leap the mlllrace coming I
back.”
No. but I*ll be gtad to have you,” says I
Donal.
Very well and good. When Saturday
evening came, Manas joined Donal, and
o.T they both trudged to Donal s father
in-law.
The old man was not too well pleased
at seeing Donal bringing a fresh hand,
but Manas, he didn't pr*t©nd to see this,
but made himself ae welcome as the flow
ers of May, and when supper was lad
down on Saturday night, Manas gave
Donal the nudge, and both of them be
gan to tie their shoes as if they had got
leoee, and they tied and tbd away at
their shoeg, till the old man had eaten a
couple of minutes, and then said grace
and finished and got up from the table,
thinking they wouldn’t have the 111 man
ners to sit down after the meal was over.
Rut down to the table my brave Manas
end Donal sit and eat their hearty skin
ful And when the old fellow saw this,
lie was gruff and grumpy, enough, and
It’s little they could get out of him be
tween that and bedtime.
But Manas kept a lively chat going,
and told good stories that passed away
the night, and when bedtime came, and
they offered Manas a bed in the room,
—
Hoard tha room door open easy.
Mans® said no, that there was no place
be could rleep only one, and that was
along the fireside.
The old man and the old woman both
objected to this, and said they couldn’t
think of allowing a stranger to aleep there,
but all they could say or do wasn’t any
use, and Manas said he couldn't nor
wouldn’t sleep In- any other place, and
Insisted on lying down there, and lie down
there he did in spite of them all, and they
all went off to their bed.
But though Manas lay down, he wa9
very cure not to let himself go to sleep,
end when he was near about two hours
lying ha hears the room door open easy,
end the old woman puts her head out and
listens, and Manas he anored as if he
hadn’t slept for ten days and ten rights
before.
When the old woman, heard this she
came on up the floor and looked at him,
and saw him like as If he was dead asleef).
Then ehe hastened to put a pot of water
on the fire and began to make n pot of
slir-about for hereelf and the old man,
for this was the wav, es Manas had well
suspected, that they used to cheat Donal.
But Just In the middle of the cooking
of the pot of stir-about, doesn't Manas
roll oveT and pretend to waken up. T’p
he sits and rubs hie eyes and looks about
him, and looks at the woman and at the
pot on the fire.
Ah,” says he, "Is It here ye are, or is
b mornin’ with ye?”
‘Well, no,” says she, ”it isn’t momln’,
but we have a cow that's not well, and
I had to put on a mash on the fire here for
It I’m sorry I wakened ye.”
“O, no, no!” ways Manas, says he. “you
haven’t wakened me at all. It’s this sore
ankle I have here,” says he, rubbing his
ankle. “I’ve a very, very sore ankle.” says
he. “and It troubles me sometimes at
bight,” he say*, “and no matter how sound
asleep I may be, It wakens me up. and
I've got to sit up until I cure It.” aays he.
"There’s nothin’ ctires It but soot—till I
rub plenty of soot out of the chimney to
It"
And Manas takes hold of the tongs and
he begins pulling the soot down out of the
chimney from above *he pot. and for every
one. that fell or the fire, there were
five pfecea that fell into the pot. And
when Manas thought he had the poeaet
well 'nough spiced with the moot, he rata-
ed up a little of the soot from the fire and
rubbed his ankle with It.
"And now," says he. "that's all right,
and I’ll sleep sound and not waken again
till IXlorninV
And he stretched himself out again and
began to snore.
The old woman was pretty vexed that
jhe hod her night’s work spoiled, and she
went up to the room to the old man and
told* him what had happened to the stir
about. He got into a bad rage entirely
and asked her was Manas a&leep again,
and she sukJ he was. Then he ordered
her to go down and make an oat scowder
and to put It on the ashes for him.
She went down ond got the oatmeal and
made a good scowder and set it on the
and then sat by it for the short
while it would be doing.
But *he hadn’t it many minutes on the
ashes when Manas let a cry out of him.
ns if it were in his sleep, and up he Jump®
and rubs his eyes and looks about him,
and when he av her he said: “Cch! is
it here ye are, and I'm glad ye are,” says
he, “because I’ve a great trouble on me
mind that's lying a load over me heart
and wouldn’t let me sleep, and I want to
relieve me mind to ye," say* Manas, ’ an’
then I’ll sleep hearty and sound all the
night after when I get rid of it. So I’ll
tell you a story,” says he.
So he catches hold of the tongs in his
two hands, and as he told the story he
would wave about with the points of them
in the ashes.
“And," says he, “I want to tell you
that my father afore he died was a very
rich man and owned no end of lan<l. He
had three sons. My*©lf, and Teddy and
Tom, and the three of us were three
good, hard workers. I always liked Teddy
and Tom, but however it came out, Tom
and Teddy hated me, and they never lost
a chance of tr3*ing to damage me with
my father and to turn him against me*.
He 6©nt Teddy and Tom to school and
gave them a grand education, but he
only gave me the spade in my flats and
sent me out to the fields. Arbd when
Teddy and Tom eme back from school,
they were two gentlemen, and used to
ride their horses and hunt with their
hounds; and me they always made look
after the honses and groom them and
reddle them and bridle them, and be there
in the yard to meet them when they
would come in from their riding and
take charge of their horses, give them
a rubbing down and stable them for them.
“In my own mind, I used to think that
this wasn’t exactly fair or brotherly treat
ment, but I said nothing, for 1 liked both
Teddy and Tom. And prouder and proud
er of them every day got my father, end
more and more every day he disliked me,
until at long and at last when he came
to die, he liked Teddy and Tom that much,
and he liked poor Manas that little, that
he drew up hi? will ond divided his land
into four parts awl left it in this way:
“Now supposin’.” says Monas, eays he,
digging the point of the *ongs into the
scowder, “supposin’,” avs he, “there
wo® my father’s farm. He cut it across
this way,” pays he, drawing the ton*??
through the scowder in one way. “Then
he cut it ocrofl* this way,” says he, draw
ing the tongs through the scowder in the
other direction, “and that quarter,” says
he. tossing away a auarter of the scowder
with the point of the tongs, “he gave to
my mother. And that quarter there,”
says he. tossing off the other quarter into
the dirt, “he gave to Teddy, and this
quarter here,” say* he, tossing the third
quarter, “he gave to Tom. And -this
last quarter,” says Manas, says he, dig
ging the point of the tongts right into the
heart of the other quarter of the scow
der. and lifting it up and looking at It.
“that quarter,” says he, “he gave to the
priest,” and he pitched it as far from
him down the floor as he could. “And
there,” says he. throwing down the tongs,
“he left poor ‘Manas what he is to-day
—a beggar and an outcast. That ma’am.”
says he, “is me story, and now that I’ve
relieved my mind. I’ll sleep sound and
well till morning.”
And down he stretches himself by the
fireside, and> begins to snore again.
And the oid woman she started up to
the room, and she told the old man what
had happened to the scowder, and the old
fellow got into a mighty rage entirely,
end was for getting up and going down
to have the life of Manas, for he waa
starving with the hunger.
But she tried to smooth him down as
well as he could. And then he told her
to go down to the kitchen and make
something else on the fire for him.
“O! It’s no use,” says she, a trying to
make anything on ihe fire, for there’ll
lyUJj* ' IY/'vA-"-'***
He healed In a calf. y
be some other ache coming on that fel
low's ankle or some other trouble on his
mind, snd he'll be setting up In the mid
dle of it all to tell me about it. But
I’ll tell yon what I’ll do.” says ehe. "I’ll
go out and I’ll milk the cow, and give
you a good Jug of sweet milk o drink,
and that will take the hunger oIT y6u till
morning.”
He told her to get up quick and do It,
or she would find him dead of the hun
ger.
And off she went as quickly as aho
could, and took n Jug off the kitchen
dresser, and slipped out, leaving Mimas
snoring loudly In the kitchen.
But when Manas thought that she had
time to hsve the Jug near filled from the
cow, he slips out to the byee, and o* It
waj deck, ha talked like 1h old man:
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. AUGUST 10, 1000.
MUN YON'S
Blood Cure ab-
OMgIK solutely cures
scrofula, eczema,
itjk „ ‘‘ruptions, syphilit
-53 conditions, mer
ge curial taints, etc.
\ tW clout in ail blood
At.*" diseases common
to a hot. climate.
- j Free medical ad-
I Jr vice. 1505 Arch
st„ Phi la. *
Iblood cure!
"And.’’ says he. “I’ll die with the hun
ger if you don't hurry with that.”
So she filled out the jug and she reach
ed i to him in the dark, and he drank
it oft and gave her back the empty jug,
and went in and lay down.
Th-n she milked off" another Jug for
herself and drank It. and came slipping
in and put the Jug easy on -the dresser,
so as not to waken Manas, and went up
to the room.
When she came up, the old fellow was
raging there. Says he: “You might
have milked all the cows in the county
since, an’ me dead with hunger here wait
in’ on it. Give me my Jug of milk,” says
he.
"And what do ye mean?” says she.
“What do you moan, you old blather
skite?" says the old man, says he.
Says she: "Didn't you come out to the
byer and ask me for the jug of milk
there, an’ didn't I give it to you, an’
didn’t you drink it all?"
"Be this and be that.” says he. “but
this is a nice how-do-ye-do. It’s that
scoundrel,” says he, “in the kitchen that’s
tricked ye again. An’ be this an’ be.
that,” says he, “I'm goin' down now an’
have his life."
And when she heard how she had been
tricked she was not a bit sorry to let him
go and have Manas’ life.
But Manas had been listening with his
ear to the keyhole to hear what was going
on, and when he heard this, and while the
man was preparing to go down and take
his life, he hauled in a calf and put it
lying by the fireside where he had been
lying and threw the cover over it.
And when the man came down with the
sledge-hammer he went for the place
where he knew Manas had been lying, and
he struck with all his might, and he drove
the hammer through the calf's skull, and
the calf only Just gave one mew and died.
And then the old fellow went back to his
bed content and the miller went out and
oft home again.
* When the old fellow and his woman got
up the morning early to go and bury
the milt*..- they found the trick he had
played on thcv and they were in a pretty
rage.
But when the breakfast was made this
morning, and Donal ana all of them sat
down, I can tell you the old fellow was
In no hurry saying grace, at.t Donal he
got his hearty fill for once in hi.' life any
how, and so did he at night.
And when Donal was going hack for
home on Monday morning, he leapt ‘he
mill-race, and Manas came out and gave
him a cheer. He got Manas’ both hands
an<J he shook them right hearty.
And every Monday morning after, for
the three years that the old fellow lived,
Manas always saw Donal leap the mill
race as easy as a sparrow might hop over
a rod.
At the end of three years, the old fellow
died, and Donal went to live on the farm
altogether, and there was no friend ever
came to see him lhat was more heartily
welcomed than Manas the Miller.
novelties at ukchicoh and teas
A JSotlcenble Absence of Color In
Decoration.
New York, Aug. 17.—Now that the back
of the summer is broken, there is an in
spiration towards freshness and newne-e
in everything. Especially is this d,seem
ed in the service of luncheons and after
noon tea, where several little ultra-fash
ionable points are beginning to make the r
way preparatory to autumn gaiety. On
the luncheon table green is still its domi
nant color. One of the new ways In which
the color is used is the fine, tint wreath
of asparagus spray which is arranged
upon the whole cloth. It is an extremely
dainty and unusual decoration. The filmy
spray Is broken Into bits about six inches
in length and they are then laid so as to
form the wreath. If a more broken effect
than a wreath is desired, the little sprays
are equally adapted to form a garlanded
border. It should always lie perfectly flat
on the table and small dishes are set upon
it in a way quite regardless of its pres
ence. With any sort of floral scheme the
wreath is appropriate, and it is by no
means an expensive or difficult decora
tion.
The newest thing in China that is now
seen and which is regarded as being par
ticularly smart, is Ihe “all-over white.” It
would seem that ftiis style has appeared
as a reaction to the much decorated
wares. But the late fad will only be found
to be desirable when produced in the finest
wares and with all the accompanying ele
gancies. A set that has recently been
brought to this country Is of the first
quality of minturn and has an exquisite
finish, a gray white said to be very new.
About every piece is a narrow and scal
loped gold edge. The only other bit of
color that Is seen Is the arms of the fam
ily done at the sides of the pieces, not in
the center, and ill olive green. Belonging
to this set is a beautiful high center piece
for flowers, and four very quaint branch
ing candelabras. When the whole service
is upon the table it produces a pure shim
mering effect which is enchanting.
Hellshes. green things and ices are more
served now than the ponderous cooking
of the winter. Fruit as of old frequently
begins a luncheon, but it ie served in a
different way. The meat and pulp are
no longer left In the skin. The Juice only
is used. This is squeezed out and placed
in a small Homan punch glass. To it
mornschino sugar and a brandy cherry or
two are added. On the top floats a layer
of crushed Ice and candled rose leaves.
It is theq sipped or eaten with a very
small spoon.
Ham is served In anew way as a re!
ish. it is first boiled and cut Into very
dainty strips. Then it Is broiled over live
coals until it curls up a little at the edges.
Finally it Is dipped and served in a heat
ed sauce made of tomiito catsup and all
the other Ingredients which are used in.
the concoction of on oyster cocktail.
Now that society’s great rush of the
summer is over there is on Immense
amount of informal tea drinking, and nt
last wc may he thankful that a bit of
comfort besides the tea has become fash
ionable at such times. Tea cups and
doilies and biscuits ond cakes are no
longer thrust upon the unfortunates whose
hands are already filled with card cases,
canes and numerous other belongings.
The old-fashioned nests of tables have
crept back to the drawing-room and one
is placed before each individual that de
clares his Intention of taking tea. A
pioce is thus provided for the guest to
set down his teacup, and these tables are
so smail and light that they cun be drawn
closely up to the chair. Oirty those aware
of the vagaries of teacups eon imagine
the relief they afford to the nerves. This
custom of Individual tables which Is rap
idly spreading In this country Is one of the
good things that a few New York women
hove brought away from China. In fact
the Chinese have many things they might
tench ns In the service of ten. Newts
of tttblew of both Chinese and Japanese
designs are therefore quite as much seen
ns the old mahogany ones and can ire
pi educed at the Importers of such wares.
L,ltle home-mode cakes are now served
for nfternoiin tea as (he almond paste
sandwiches of iast winter have had their
j day. This U also a comfort.
A MIDNIGHT RIDE.
By Frederic Van Renseliaer Dey.
Copyright. 1900, by S. S. McClure Cos.
I called upon Mars ton Moore one even
ing—it was in September, ISBS—and quite
to my surprise found him in deep dejec
tion. Ho was a young: physician of three
or four years' practice, but without a care
in the world that I had every heard of;
certainly he had no occasion to worry
about ordinary things, for his bank ac
count was among the many thousands.
Nevertheless, he was despondent, and
when I endeavored to laugh him out of the
condition he became only more morose.
His manner was so brusque and his re
plies so monosyllablic that at last I took
offense and rose to depart. It was then
that he detained me.
“Pardon me. old chap,” he said, with
more cordiality than he had yet manifest
ed. “The fact is I'm in trouble. Some
body has got to help me out, and I don't
know which way to turn. It is almost too
much to ask of any friend.”
I cl rope pd back into my chair reassured,
and after a moment of silence asked as
gently as I could:
“How much is it, Marston?’’
He looked up quickly, and there was a
puzzled expressions on his face; then, he
laughed, but it was a mirihleas laugh aft
er all.
“It isn’t that.” he said presently. “I
wish it were. Do you think that I would
have hesitated to apply to you if it were a
question of money. No; that is the least
of my worries. It is something of far
more importance than that. It is—but I
cannot put you to such a severe test of
friendship, old fellow.”
“Come, come.” I exclaimed, my curiosity
il
Every ruse which the human mind could conceive was forced to induce me to de
sert Moore.
aroueed, and also resenting the idea that
he should consider any test of my friend
ship for him 100 great for me to stand. “If
there is anything in th** world that I can
do for you, Marston, you well know that
I will be only too glad to do it. Out with
it now; what is the matter?”
“1 cannot tell you ail of the horrible
story.” he replied with marked hesitation.
“If you are willing to go with me you will
have to wait until we arrive before you
hear all there Is to tell.”
“Arrive where?” I demanded.
“That also is out of my power to state,”
he responded, “for I do not yet know my
self.” Then he sprang from his chair, and
with rapid strides crossed and recrossed
the room several limes, at last pausing di
rectly in front of me. with feet wide
apart and hand thrust deep into his trous
ers pockets. For a moment he regarded
me with a gaze so intense that involunta
rily I turned my eyes away. It was then
that he continued:
“JLook here, Ferguson,” he said; “if
you really mean that you will stand by
me through this thing, you will have to
go into it blindly. It is not that I lack
confidence in you that I do not tell—you
know .that, or .should—lt Is because, now,
I cannot be more explicit.”
“All right; I’ll go it blind, then,” I said,
trying to laugh, and making a mlaerabte
failure of it. “You would do it for me if
the positions were reversed.”
“I am not so sure of that, knowing
what I do,” he half soliloquized. “It’s a
great deni to ask of nnv man, especially
one’s best friend. No, Ferguson, Ido not
think that I should accept your offer. I’ll
see the thing through alone, leg the conse
quences be what they may.”
“I’ll be blowed If you will,” I ejaculat
ed, getting upon my feet also, and facing
him where he stood. “If you are going
Into any danger, where I can be of ser
vice, or where I can help see you through,
I’m going to do It. J don’t care a rap
W'hat it is. You needn’t te*!l me another
word, now or ever, if you don’t want to,
hut go with you I will; and If you still
refuse, so help me, I’ll trump up some
charge and have you arrested so that you
cannot go yourself. Now, don’t have any
more words about It, but tell me at once
what I am to do.”
‘‘You’re a trump, too. Ferguson!” he
exclaimed, seizing me by the, hand and
shaking it heartily, and T noticed that his
eyes brightened perceptibly as he did so.
“It Is wo?*tb while having such n friend
as you are In an extremity like this one.
and T will take you a* your word. All
that I can say now is Ibis: I must leuve
here to-night et midnight, and I have an
.appointment to keep beyond the city lim
its; but the exact location of the place
where I am to meet the parties who ex
pect me has not yet been fixed upon. In
fact, I wili not know about. It until short
ly before the time to start. We will have
to go on horseback, and Oorl ulone knows
when we will return, if w© ever do. Are
you still determined to accompany me?”
“More than ever.”
“Very well. Meet me, then, at Dandla
stables exactly at 12 o’clock to-night. I
will have two good horses in readiness.
Ree that you are well armed, Ferguson.
A pair of ‘forty-fours’ may come In
handy before we see the sun of another
day—lf we are fortunate enough ever to
do so.”
I clasped his hand silently, and In si
lence left him. T wo- greatly perturbed
about the affair, for T could not even
guess at the meaning of his str inge words
and manner. I had known Moore since
my freshman year n college, and our
friendship had never faltered since that
time, now twelve years; nor hnd I ever
known him to g<*t Into a serious sera ye.
Of the two. I was more prone to that
sort of thing.
It was barely 8 o’clock when T left
Moore, ro that I had four hours In which
to moke thy preparat lens for he midnight
ride. This I did, first by writing several
letters und inclosing ’hem In h big *n
vHope, which I placed conspicuously on
the mantel In my sleeping room, marked:
“To be opened and directions followed. In
v c<m# I have no-t returned at I o’clock to
morrow evening.” Then I dated it. so
there might be no mistake. After That I
clothed myself in my riding suit and
boots, buckled my cartridge belt and re
volvers around my body and I wait ready.
It was then only 11 o’clock, and I passed
the intervening* time in writing more let
ters, for Moore’s seriousness had impress
ed me strongly, and although I could not
even conjecture what might happen, I
was thoroughly imbued with the idea that
the experiences of the. night were not to
be child’s play. In that I was correct.
When the clock struck 12 I entered The
stable. Moore was awaiting me, impa
tiently slashing his boots with his riding
whip.
“You are fifteen minutes late, Fergu
son."
“It is exactly 12.” I responded in as
tonishment. producing my watch in proof
of the statement. “I am right on the
minute.”
“Are you?”—ironically—'"l thought I
said at a quarter of 12.”
“No, youmaid ‘exactly at 12;’ those are
your own words.”
“Well, never mind; you are here now.
anyway:” and he swung himself into the
saddle, struck his horse a smart clip with
the whip anti dashed into the darkness.
I was nfter him on the instant, but did
r.ot overtake him until wc were nt Fif
teenth street, where he held up and wait
ed for me.
“We turn here." he said briefly, and led
the way along that thoroughfare towards
the Blue river valley. I endeavored to
get ncor enough to converse with him,
but for some reason I could not
Either his horse was unusually fractious,
or surreptitiously Moore kept him ex
cited with the spur. All the way to the
river bottom he kept a Tittle ahead of
me, and quite to one side, so that there
was no opportunity for conversation.
Down at the very point where Fifteenth
street crosses the bottom, he halted, and
for the first time seemed disposed to talk.
“We turn south, here, Ferguson,” he
raid, “and we will have to pick our way.
It Is rather dark,' bu-t I think I can find
the place.”
'Then you know now where you are
going?” I asked.
“Yes. There is an old house a mile or
so below here. I am going there. Arc
your pistols all right?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“There is an old railroad grade some
where here. It has been abandoned for
years, but if I con locate it we can fol
low along the fop of It. It will be easier
than forcing our way through the brush.
Keep your eyes peeled now, and look out
that you are not brushed off your horse
by n low hanging limb; and above all,
Ferguson, don’# talk. Del us move along
as silently as possible.”
He led the way, and I followed, al
though as w'o dived deeper into the woods
it soon become difficult to see him, hut
I knew that my horse would follow his
unerringly, so I abandoned the effort to
guide him. It seemed to me that we trav
eled In that manner more than
on hour. though I now know it
was not so long by far; then wo
turned down the bank of the old gra<le.
crossed a swampy stretch where the grass
grew so high that it caught in my spurs,
and presently began the ascent of a steep
though short hill, and at the top emerged
from the woods, hut found ourselves at
the margin of a wilderness of bushes that
were not quite as high as our heads as
we sat upon our horses. Coming from the
gloom of the forest behind us. the starlit
“I’ll he blowed If you fvill.”
sky—there was no moon—made it eeom
quite light. Before us. three or four
hundred feet away, dark, gloomy and for
bidding. loomed the outlines of a house,
and for some reason the aspect of the
whole thing sent an Involuntary shudder
through me.
While I was intently regarding the
house. Moore dismounted, and having un
buckled one side of the bridle rein and
thus made a halter of It, he tied his horse
to a tree.
"We will have to h ave the horses here.
Ferguson,” he said. “What we have to do
now must be done on foot. Tie your ani
mal and follow me.”
I acted ns hastily ss I could, but Moore
was already several paces in advance;
atlll. I hastened to overtake him.
“Don’t you think you had better post
me a Ilf tie now, Marston?” f managed to
whisper; but the only reply 1 received was
a sharp, “Hist!” and somewhat offended.
I went on after that, silently and doggedly,
resolved tha* I would not ask Another
question, n<* matter what happened.
As we drew nearer to th* house. I saw
that we were behind It. There was no sign
of Ilfs visible. Indeed, from appearances, I
Hard Sense.
It takes keen common sense, '’^"’29l
added to superior judgment and
experience, to be superintend ent of ~~ B
a railroad. Such a man never re
commends anything that be lias not
himself subjected to crucial test. , Kays*?
prominent railroad superintend- , , ill
cat, living at Savann&l), Ga., in ji’V J't
’which city he was born, says be
feels better than he ever did, and C*
he had the worst case of dyspepsia
on record. Ho had no appetite, and 1 1)) b
the little he cte disagreed with him,
had pains in the head, breast and * S/fpyr'y
•tomach, but after using three bot
ties of P. P. P. he felt like anew Mm/W
man.** He says that he feels that he i'UuVEI
could live forever if he could always . g£j}t& u
&etP. P. P. His name will be given
on application to Dippman Brothers,, the Ml
proprietors of this great remedy.
Dyspepsia in all its forms is promptly
and permanently cured by P. P. P. General
Debility and lack of energy give place to vim ar.d ambition through
the use of P. P. P. Blood Poiso i and all its incidental and hereditary
431s are eradicated by P. P. P. Rheumatism is conquered and banished
by P. P. P., as are aluo Catarrh and Malaria. P. P. P. ia a purely rsgo
table compound, which has steadily grown in favor for years.
SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS.
LIPPMAN BRO T ”’ r ”'S. * 0 ™ T I^ S - Savannah, Ga.
FRENCH CLARET WINES, and
GERMAN RHINE and MOSELLE WINES
and FRENCH COGNAC BRANDIES.
All these flue M ines and Liquors are Imported by us In class direct from
the growers In Europe.
Our St. Juiten Claret Wine from Everest. Dupont A Cos of Bordeaux.
Frame, is one of their qpeclaliie., and one at extremely low price.
The Chateaux Leo villa, one of their superior Claret Wines, well known all
over the United States.
We also carry in bond Claret Wines from this celebrated firm in casks.
Our Bhine and Moselle Winee ere imported from Martin Deutz. Frank
fort, Germany, are the beet that come to the United States*
BO DEN HEIM Is very tine and cheap.
NIERBTEIN also very good.
RUBES HEIM very choice. „
RAUENTHAL, selected grapes, very elegant
LIEBFRANMILCH, quite celebrated
MARCOBRUNNER CABINET elegant and rare
YOHANNISBUROER is perfection.
SPARKLING HOCK SPARKLING MOSELLE. BPARKUNO MUBCA
TBLLE. and FINE FRENCH COGNAC BRANDIES
Special Brandies are Imported direct from France by ue. in eases and cask*.
, LIPPMAIN brothers.
decided that the place had been deserted
a long time; perhaps years. Moore, how
ever, seemed to know where he was going,
and he led me, by a detour, around the
house, so that we finally approached it
from the front.
Just before we stepped from the conceal
ment of the bushes to approach the door,
I felt my friend’s hand upon my arm and
heard him whisper, very low: "Follow me
closely, and do exactly as I say. A great
deal —our safety—may depend upon it.
Then he went ahead.
We stepped upon the rickety porch os
silently as we could, hut despite our efforts
It Creaked dismally beneath our combined
weight. Then, to my surprise, Moore, with
the butt of one of his pistols, hammered
loudly upon one of the panels of the door.'
After the- silence that had preceded his
act, It seemed to my strained senses as
If the noise made by the knocking might
have been heard a mil© away. Notwith
standing thrrt fact, there was no immedi
ate response, and presently Moore ham
mered again, this time louder than before,
and the summons had to be repeated the
third time befoxe there was anything like
a response. Then, from beyond the door,
a masculine voice inquired; “Who la
there?”
“Marston Moore,” replied my compan
ion In a loud tone.
“Alone?” was the seddnd query.
“No; accompanied by a friend.”
There followed & moment of silence, ami
then the voice beyond the door said:
“Why didn't you come alone as you
were tcld to do? There isn't any room for
strangers here; you know that.”
I thought I heard Moore swear under
his brcatli, but I was not Fure; and then,
in a tone which there was no mistaking,
he shouted:
“Open that door, Madgley, or I’ll kick
It in, and it won’t be a difficult thing to
do either. Open It, and open It quick!”
There was another short Interval of si
lence, end then, rather to my wurprise,
the door swung slowly back on its hinges,
leaving a space of Impenetrable blackness
In its place. There was not a sign of a
human being to be seen. The man who
had spoken to us from behind the door
had disappeared—or, rather, Ike did not ap
pear at all.
Moore immediately passed through the
aperture into the darkness and disap
peared, but u second later I heard his
voice:
“Come on, Ferguson,” he said; “it’s all
right.”
I followed without hesitation, but I had
a.’areely passed the threshold when strong
arms seized and pinioned me from behind,
a blanket was thrown over my head, and
before I coqld do anything to resist the
attack. I was dragged to the floor, and by
many ha mis held helpless while others
bound me. Notwithstanding the struggle
In which I was engaged, I was conscious
that there was another one near me, and
I believed that Moore had been attacked
in the ?arn© manner. “Fools >hat we
were,” I thought, “to enter that dark cor
ridor an we had don© without first taking
precautions to avoid exactly the thing thut
hod happened.”
1 called aloud to Moore, but received no
reply; except for the deep breathing of
the men near me, the silence waa abso
lute.
As soon as I was bound so that there
was no chant* for me to escape, my cap
tors raised me from the floor and bore
me away. I knew that they carried me
to the second floor of the building, and
presently f was taken into n large room
where there was a fire, and in the dim
light I could see that the men who had
assaulted me were garbed In the now well
known livery of “whltecap**.”
I realized that there would be little or
no use In asking questions, and remained
silent; nor not one of my captors ut
tered a word. I looked around ns well
ns I could for some sign of Moore, but
he was not there, and if he was, I could
not discover him.
They placed me upon my hack on the
floor, and ihe next Instant a thick hand
kerchief of black silk was bandaged
around my head, effectually blindfold
ing me A moment later 1 heard them
leave the room and I knew that I was
alone.
Nearly an hour passed before I agnln
hoard n sound, and then it wos the
stealthy tread of many feet passing near
me until It seemed, to my strained sense
of hearing, os If I was in the center of a
group that hed forme*! around me. Then
I whs startled by n deep voice near me,
which said:
'Mr. Albert Ferguson, you may thank
yourself alone for the Inconvenience to
which we have been compelled to pot
you. We hnd reasons for desiring the
presence of your companion, but we
hove nothing to do with your affairs. If
you are willing to return as you came,
and to pledge yourself to absolute secre y
regarding Il that has happened to-night,
there la no reason why we should detain
you.”
"Where 1s Moor* ?” T demanded. "Or-
I tairily, T sin willing to do ail you ask,
, but you must remember that X came here
with Marston Moore. If I return aa I
came, I return wtth him.”
“In this case you will have to return
wtthout him,” was the stem reply.
“Then I’ll give you no pledge of se
creoy, and you know that I would not
keep it if I made one.”
“This is a serious matter. Mr. Fergu
son; you had better think twice befors
you decide. Our business with Moore Is
our own affair and his. He knew what
he had to expect before he came here,
and he knew, also. Just what dangers
threatened you if he brought you with
him. He acted the part of a coward in
doing so, and if you will heed good advice
you will have nothing more to do with
him.”
“What have you done with him?” was
all the reply I made.
“We have done with him Juat exactly
as we now propose to do with you, for I
see that you ore incorrigible. Pick him
up, boys. It is a waste of breath to argue
with him.”
If I should attempt to *Vscrlbe the ex
periences through which I pissed dur
ing the ensuing hrtur and n half, credu
lity would be taxed to the utmost, but
it is certain that every ruse which the
Ingenuity of the human mind could con
ceive was forced upon me- to Induce me
in some way to desert Moore, or to deny
him. As the ceremony progressed—and
before the proceedings hud occupied above
an hour, I had decided that it was a cer
emony of some kind—lt dawned upon me,
dimly et first, and then* with the force
of certainty, that I was undergoing corns
sort of Initiation; what it was I could not
determine. The real truth did not ©nre
occur to me.
At last, with the bandage still over mjr
eyes, I heord these words:
“My friend*”—and the voice startled
me, for I fancied that I recognized It—
“it is with unmixed pleasure that I an
nounce the completion, of your trials and
suffering. You have been tried in* the
balance and have not been found wanting
In the virtues which wo require of all
candidates. Whoever ©niters here must
por.geaa all the qualities which are ex
pressed by the word ’Friend,’ which is the
most abused and treduced word Ir> our
language. Throughout all the tests that
have been applied to you, you have been
steadfast, loyal and true. What more
can one friend ask of another? You wars
willing, at the request of Mr. Moore,
to go blindly Into unknown dangers, con
tent to await n explanation until he chose
to grant one, and you hav© found hero
many who stand ready at any moment
to perform the an me service for you.
And now, after some further initiation
and Instruction, you will have become a
member of the moat secret order in the
world—and the most magnificent. Even
Its true name is never mentioned—never
uttered aloud. Mr. Moore will remove tha
bandage from your eyes and cut the ©ords
that bind you. After he has craved your
pardon for the imposition he has prac
ticed upon you, you will be Instructed
in the mygterles of this sacred order.”
That Is all. I wish I might tell tha
rest, but I cannot.
(THE END.) y*
—F©w probably know how fond Queen
Victoria Is of the s'lrrlng strains of a
good military band. She gave one of many
recent evidences of this liking when, not
long since, the band of the First Eight
Guards was playing in the Grand Quad
rangle et Windsor Castle. Her Majesty
was wive©!* and out from her apartments,
and. after listening for a considerable
Mme. wltli evident enjoyment, she -.sent
for the bandmaster to say how pleased
she was with his band.
BRRNNAN BROS.,
WHOLESALB
Fruit, Produce, Grain, Etc.
>32 BAY STREET. WuL
10rphan. SSS.
SCaiE YOURSELF!
L’ne Tig U fur uu natural
ii*rh.*trx<'*, Inflamuiatiooa,
irritatiouo or ulcerations
>f mucous warn0 runs*.
i’amleiM. and not utrii*
, Brut or poisonous.
<*M by I.*rrr sr |sli,
or ornt in plain wrapper,
by exprms. pr*>p*M. TU
iyott, ~t .i bofftM, VEh,
Circular ii cu rofiiaa&
*- ■ M
IF TOU WANT GOOD MATERIAL
and work, order your lithographed and
tainted stationery and blank books float*
Morning News, Savannah, Qa.
15