AFTER THE BLOOMING.
/
on, little ros'ebud with petals red,
As you nod by the garden wall
And dewdrops drink,
Do you ever think
That some day your petals will fall?
Some day your fragrance will all be gone,
Your sweetness a thing of the past?
For it matters not how
Much prized you are now, _
Little rosebuds cannot always last.
And, oh, little maiden, with eyes so blue,
As you sing, and laugh, and are gay,
Doesit come to you
That some day, too,
Your roses will pass away?
But the little rosebud nods on by the wall,
Caressed by the winds so free;
And the blue-eyed girl
Swings in the mad whirl
U nheedin'g the song and me.
Oh, wise little rosebud and Wise little girl,
Why turn to the dark ere you must?
Nod on and laugh on
Till your pleasures are gone.
Live to-day! For the marrow—trust!
—Johnstone Murray. in Womankind.
A QUEER ADVENTURE.
It happened about seven years ago.
I had been transacting some business
in London, and was returning by the
afternoon mail to my home in the coun-
try. Being the only occupant of the our
riage in which I rode, I broke the tedium
of the journey by reading, in the dim
light of the chill December day, some of
the several periodicals with which ]
had furnished myself at the bookstall
previous to my departure from the sta-
tiOll.‘
The papers at that time were full of
accounts respecting some startling out-
rages committed just previously by a
band ofdesperate nihilists, who, in their
own particular manner, were levying
war upon civilization in a well-known
European capital. The reports were
alarmingly graphic, and an air of in-
security was engendered by reading
them, for rumor had it- that the ramifi-
cations weze well-nigh limitless, ex-
tending into other lands besides their
own, and it was plainly hinl‘ed that Eng-
land was Shortly to receive a special
share of their attentions.
I read on until the growing darkness
rendered the operation loo difficult to
be longer indulged in, and then mused
upon what I had read until, half my
journey being accomplished, it became
necessary for me to change my train.
With a quarter of an hour tO'spare, I
entered the bullet attached to the sta-
tion at which I had stopped, with the
object of obtaining some needed rc~
freshment. Having eaten nothing since
breakfast, I was hungry, and looked
round for something substantial where - '
with to appease my appetite.
The only available thing beside the
usual sandwich was a German sausage,
which I began to tackle without the
least compunctior. Althougdi not an
edible that I usually indulged in—to be
correct, I had never before tasted it—-
the inelegant polony seemed to my
sharpened palate quit/3 toothsome food,
and I ate vigorously, and felt, as I be-
lieved, all the better for it when the
time came to resume my journey.
I had a companion this time, a man
who, like myself, was closely wrapped,
and who occupied the seat directly op-
posite to the corner one in which I
placed myself. In his hand I noticed
that he. carried a. small, oblong parcel,
incased in brown paper and tied with a
strip Of thin string, so arranged as to
form a loop for the. fingers that held it.
On starting, my fellow-traveler made
a few commonplace remarks about the
weather, and later on, with an air of
decided sociability, offered me his flask.
I am aware that it is not ordinarily ad.-
visable to accept hospitality in this way
from a stranger, and it is a thing I al-
ways set my face against. but, in this
instance, I broke through my custom
and took the proffered drink, and then,
drawing my wraps closely around me,
snuggled into my corner, and tried to
make myself comfortable. for the rest
of the ride.
I had not been long thus ensconced
when a kind of drowsy stupor began to
creep over me, which steadily increased,
despite repeated efi'orts on my part to
shake it off. As I sat in this semi—con-
scious state, my thoughts reverted to
the nihilistic literature I had been read-
ing, and instantly itoccurrcd to me that
the brandy I had been drinking was
drugged. The thought was not a pleas-
ant one, and somewhat alarmed by it
I made a farther attempt to rouse my—
self from the lethargy into which I was
falling, but without success. Suddenly
I lost consciousness entirely, and every-
thing became a blank.
, It was only for a few moments, how-
ever, for my senses returned as quickly
as they had left me, although my power
of action was quite gone. I seemed like
a person under the influence of some
mesmeric spell, from which there is no
eslcape. In this condition my gaze in-
stinctlivelyr turned to my conpanion,
and I noticed, as I thought, a mysteri-
ous change in his appearance. His com-
plexion had assumed a malignant air,
his eyes wore a wild look, and round
his month there curled a cunning smile.
As I sat watching him, he began to
undo the parcel in his hands, and draw-
ing away the paper in which. it was in-
closed, exposed to. view a box apparent-
ly made of tin. A little hinged door on
one of its sides, which he presently
opened, showed that the interiOr was
filled with 'a species of clockwork ar-
rangement, and instinctively I gueSsed
that the thing I beheld was one of those
diabolical inventions which have. come
to be known by the term of infernal ma-
chines. '
On beholding this horrible engine of
destruction, which, for aught I knew,
might be fused ready for its dreadful
work, my first thought was to stretch
out my hand for. the communication
cord, and, by stopping the train, letthc
authorities know the manner of man
they were carrying; but, on attempting
to rise, 1- found that my limbs utterly
refused their'oflicc, and I Was as help-
less as though I had been bound hand
and foot. My companion, evidently
divining my intention, spoke.
_ “You are powerless to move,” he said,
4
addressing me. “The potion imbibed
from my flask is a special decoction
which will prevent action on your part
for some time to come. So sit still and
listen! You know, doubtless, what this
is,” he continued, pointing to the box,
which he had placed on the seat beside
him, “and most likely youguess what
I am at the same time. In case you do
not, I will tell you at once that I am one
of that noble band who have for their
' Object in h e the emancipation of man-
, kind from the tyranny of authority!”
“In other words, you are a nihilist—a
dynamitard ?” I suggested. .
I “Use those terms if you like,” he re-
; plied.
; Acts are the things whereby men are
judged. Hear what I have to say! The
l society to which I belong has decreed
the immediate doom of an authorita-
! tive rule, and with that object has dis-
patched emissaries far and wide to car-
' ry out its behests. A big blow is shortly
to be struck, and there is not a country .
in the whole of Europe which will es-
cape it.
France, all are condemned, and even
England, the vaunted home of the free,
is not to be exempt. At the present
moment, there are 99 picked men,
armed with the most deadly bombs, in
London itself, awaiting the signal to
commence. One more worker is re-
quired, and I am commissioned to find
some one to supply the want. I have
done so, and my choice falls upon you! ”
l I started in my seat at these words,
i uttered in a fiercely earnest tone. He
concluded:
“You, yes, you must become one of
us; must enroll yourself under theban-
ner of emancipation, and strike a blow
for liberty!”
“And what if I refuse?" I inquired, as _
quietly as my excitement would allow.
He leaned forward, and hissed rat-her
then spoke in my car:
“If you will not do this, then you
yourself are doomed! Mark me, un-
less you join our ranks you will never
leave this train alive!”
“Who will prevent me?” I asked,
again making a vain endeavor to rise.
“1 will!” he shouted, fiercely.
“I defy you!” I exclaimed, with a
firmnes I did not really feel, thinking
.that a determined attitude might poser
~bly overawe him, for assassins are in—
variably cowards. I was mistaken in
my man, however. for on hearing my
words he put his hand under the cloak
that enveloped him and drew forth a.
poniard. the sharp—pointed edge of
which he felt critically with the tip of.
his finger.
“I will give you one minute in which
to consider your decision,” he said,
“and if at the, end of that time you re-
main obdurate, then this blade goes
straightway through your heart! "
In order, I suppose, to amuse himself
during the interval he pricked several
holes with the point ofthe instrument
in his arm just above the wrist, from
each Of which the blood squirted in
small, purple jets, showing how sharp
was the weapon’s edge. In a little while
he said: .
“The time is up. What say you now ‘3”
“What I said before,” I replied. “DO
your worst! ”
Instantly he sprang to his feet and
clutched me by the throat.
“Coward!” I cried, half choking, as I
was; and struggling in his iron grasp.
The epithet seemed to madden him,
for his face became livid with sudden
rage, his eyes glared wildly and his
breath came in thick and hurried gasps.
“You shall never say that again! ” he
shouted, tightening his hold until the.
blood swelled up in my face'and my
eyes see-med ready to burst from their
sockets. .
With the energy of despair I made.
one final attempt to recover my power
of action, and felt that I was succeed—
ing, The effect of the potion was evi-
dently working oil’, and with use rc-
turning to my limbs I realized that
now was my time. Concentrating all
the strength 1 had into one tremendous
effort. I managed to free myself from
his grip and immediately closed with
him. We struggled violently together
for a. few seconds, neither gaining the
mastery, and then I stumbled and we
both fell to the ground, he uppermost.
It seemed that my hour was come, for
in his hand he held the deadly weapon.
As I saw the gleaming blade descend in
one swift stroke I raised my voice and
shouted-
“Tickets, please! All tickets ready!"
It was the summons of the collector.
I rubbed my eyes and looked around.
There was my fellow traveler sitting
quietly on the seat opposite, regarding
me with an amused expression on his
face. ~
“Been sleeping?” he queried, as my
gaze caught his.
“I suppose I have,” was my hazy re-
ply.
“Aud dreaming, too,” he added, with
a smile; “unpleasantly, I should guess,
by your manner."
It was so. The substantial repast of
which I had partaken had been the
means of bringing on a heavy slumber
which lasted right on to my journey's
end, and the fearful adventure through
which I had been passing was not, as
I had imagined it, athing Of reality,
but only a horrid nightmare, engen-
dered by the reception of a mass Of in-
digestible food into a constitutionally
dyspeptic stomach.
My companion, of course, was no
more a nihilist than I was. The only
fusible article inside his brown-paper
parcel was a box containing a hundred
choice cigars; and his flask, he assured
me. held nothing more injurious to the
system than a quantity of fine old
Cognac.
As I related to him the experience
through which I had gone he indulged
in a hearty laugh, and, while I could
not refrain from joining him, even at
my own expense, I inwardly registered
a vow to give German sausage a very
wide berth for the future. Tit—Bits.
-—If thou hast a loitering servant,
send him‘ of thy errand just before his
dinner.-—Fuller. . .
“There is nothing in a name;
Russia, Germany, Austria,‘
'5
Any—p
6K BARBULIG Kcm
Mrs. Joseph Uounellv, wife of the
Superintendent of the Metropolitan In-
surance company, had a miraculous es-
cape from death Saturday afternoon,
at her home on Girard Place. '
About 5 o’clock in the eVening Mrs.
Oonnelly went to a cloSet. to get a bot-
tle of medicine. ‘taudlng beside this
bottle was one of carbnlic acid and Mrs.
Counelly picked up the latter by mis-
take and swallowed a portion of its con-
tents.
Immediately after‘ taking the burning
acid she discov'ed her mistakeand rush-
aud partook capiously of water. She
then started back for the sitting room
but fell unconscious on the fl-sor of the
hull. - .
A lady living upstairs heard her fall
and rushed down Stairs to her assist-
ance, Sending a messenger for Dr.
Willie Crowo. The doctor arrived in u
sciousuess. _
Mrs. Conuellv was able to sit up
throat was as well as am Monday.
__. ._.__.._. no.
Afler Gladstone.
In his sermon at, Waterbury, Sun-
day, Rev. W. J. Slocum denounced
William E. Gladstone. He alleged that
Gladstone had hoodwinked the Irish
people, and referred to him as the arch-
hypocrite of the age.
0.0 «—
~Advertiee in the GAZETTE.
ed for the water spiggot in the kitchen, .
few minutes and bv the aid of H etou- g
8.0!] pump soon brought her back to cou-’ '
Sunday, and outside of a badly burned '
WEEKLY - b0RW1ALK '-. GAZE T TE
There is more Catarrh’in this section of
the coutry than all other diseases put to-
gether, and until the last few years was
supposed to be incurable. For a great
many years doctors pronounced it a local
disease, and prescribed local remedies,
and by constantly failing to cure with
local treatment, pronounced it incurable.
Science has proven catarrh to be a con-
stitutional disease, and therefore requires
constitutional treatment. Hall’s Catarrh
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They offer one hundred dollars for any
case it fails to cure. Send for circulars
and testimonials. Address,
F. I. CHENEY & CO Toledo, 0.
WSold by Druggists, 75.
S T U D E B A K ER
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qua curls-Es
ur’gies, Phaetons. Runabouts,
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WASHENK‘E NEWER
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without it.
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/
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NI- JONES, 1)rOVidencel R- I- i ’ what of Choice Premiums sent Free upon request.
THE J. B. WILLIAMS 00., Glastonbury, Conn., Makers ofWilliams' Famous Shaving Soups.
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I
WINGS.
Wings that flutter in sunny air:
Wings that dive and dip and dare:
Wings of the humming bird flashing by
Wings of the lurk in the purple sky:
Wings of the eagle aloft, aloof:
Wings of the pigeon upon the roof;
Wing of the storm bird swift. and tree
With wild winds sweeping across the sea—
Often and often a. voice in me sings—
O. for the freedom, the freedom of wingsl
O. to winnow the air with Wings!
0. to float far above hurtful things!
Things that weary and wear and fret—-
Deep in the azure to fly and forget.
To touch in a moment the mountain's crest,
Or haste to the valley for home and rest;
To rock With the pine tree as wild birds may,
To follow the sailor a summer‘s day,
Over and over a voice in me sings—
O, for the freedom, the freedom of wings!
Softly responsive a voice in me sings——
Thou hast the freedom. the freedom of wings.
Soon as the glass :1 second can count
Into the heavens thy heart may mount,
Hope may fly to the topmost peak,
Lone its nest. in the vale may seek:
Outspeeding the sailor Faith‘s pinions may
Touch the ends of the earth in a summer's day.
Softy responsive a voice in me sings—
Thou hast the freedom. the freedom of wings!
-Mary F. Butts, in Youth's Companion.
IN. GOLD TIME. .
BY ROBERTA LITTLEEALE. 1
He was straight, and grizzled, and
keen of eye. He had worked, and
fought, and gambled his way through
the lawlessness and passion of the
state’s early life into the decency and up-
rightness of a successful contractor.
His name was Bill Bowen.
As a civil engineer, I came more or
less in contact with him, and rejoiced
in the largeness of his mental mold, as
well as in the business sense of security
he let me enjoy.
One summer’s night we took a drive
to a distant town on the San Joaquin
river. We were to look at stone for a
bridge building, and the blistering heat
of the day made us willing to lose our
sleep for the more comfortable travel-
in g by starlight.
The horses jogged lazily through the
coarse, thick dust on the river’s levee,
and the insects from the grain fields
and the frogs from the slouglis had
things wholly to themselves until Bill
suddenly interrupted:
“Mrs. Chase is pretty enough yet to
understand uh y she sent two fellows to
the devil, isn't- she?”
“What an you talking about '3" I an-
swercd.
“Oh,” said liill, pulling himself up, “I
forgot you didn’t struggle with the rest
of us through thOSe groggy days.”
I knew Bill well enough to let him rc-
lapse just so many minutes; then Isaid:
“.17 :2 ‘yr-w Chase’s wife is lovelier at sixty
than most. girls at sixteen, but I hadn’t
any idea she figured so romantically in
the early days as to send anybody over-
board.”
“H‘m,” replied Bill, rcflectively.
The horses traveled on without at-
tention, and I waited in patience.
“Xou know what it was like,” he be-
gun at last. “Men with guns from all
over the union and gold the heaven we
sweated for. Prayers, and court, and
the gambling tables all running under
one roof, and nary a woman’s face show-
ing up in the mass to give us courage. To
be. sure, there were vixenish ribs 0’
Satan who robbed, and killed, and
drank with the worst of us; but until
’51 we‘d never the woman for reverence.
Then, by degrees, the lawyers and a
stray merchant or two aired their
families, but things wasn’t dizzy till
pretty Grace Blanchard got out with
her father.
“Understand, she carried herself as
she’d ought to; but, understand, there
was men among us as was born and
bred to live with blood. The mass Of
us had to take out our satisfaction in
looking at her; but for two the favor
in Old Blanchard’s eyes was easy read-
ing, and it wasn’t long seeing the
course the straw took. .
“Ned Emory was. a long, lean, blond
fellow, with a blamed fine face and
a way that made friends of the
toughest. They said he looked
a. swell when he called at the
Blanchard’s, but I never saw him
but like the rest of us—red-shirted and
overalled,- and an angle to his pisto '
that made him a joy. -
“George Stokes—‘Shorty,‘ we called
him—was a man with an answer that
ripped like a. knife and a. head that
made success of everything, because it
could work crooked as well as straight.
He’d been on the bench, but he’d located
a vein at Mariposa, and was overseeing
up there in ’52. Naturally, he lost op-
portunities, not being right on the spot,
and the danger began.
“The Blanchard house was swelled
larger than most of the cabins, and had
two long windows that opened onto a
porch. Things might never have been
so bad but for those two lidless eyes
in front.
“One fatal night Shorty Stokes rode
into the settlement—but I am getting
ahead of affairs.”
Bill tossed his cigar into the tules,
and hurried the horses into effort as
the interest of his reminiscence swept
him on. '
“The girl carried herself after the
fashion of high steppers, and neither
fellow could swear where he stood. It
was laughter and spirit for both of
them. they said, and nip and tuck for
the yielding. The pace was the sort
that exhausts men, and Shorty’s brain
for lawyering cooked up a scheme for
his rescue. He was for their going to-
gether some night before her. and, after
a formal marriage proposal, each argue
his claim and fitness for ten minutes
by the clock, their honor at stake to
stand by her decision.
“It got about afterwards that Emory
wouldn’t consent until he saw the
devil to pay in Shorty’s earnestness,
and they swore with their fists in each
other’s to carry the thing through to
the finish. The date and hour' were
arranged for the following Sunday
night at eight, and they drank 'to it
with gall in the cup. '
“When the evening came the clOck
had already struck eight; when Stokes
reached the Blanchard house. ,
“The lights from the room fell over '
the porch, and from the shadow of the
steps he saw the something that in all
the world he couldn’t bear to see—13m-
Ory crossing the room to take Grace
Blanchard in his arms; Emory with
passion paling his face and Grace.
Blanchard in the beauty of a disturb~
ing humility.
“He cursed as he watched them cling
to each other, and he cursed his way
back to the saloons and his Mariposa
mining.
“The next day he turned up again in.
the; settlement, with liquor enough
aboard to put a'wheel in his head, and,
after a losing fling at the tables, he
started to find Emory.
“After a little ineffectual riding, ho
leaped from the back of his Vicious-eyed.
piebald at the corner that bulged thick-
est with saloons. and stood close to the.
stirrup with his hand on his hip. Some.
one who noticed him said his face had
the steely intensity of r. razor edge.
“Then out of the crowd, unconscious,
with the music of love in his heart.
swung Ned Emory. His hat was pushed
back on his fair hair, and he was whist-
ling the overflow out of his veins.
“In one. instant a bullet rang through
the air. followed by another. Emory
fell in his own blood, and a horseman
was riding off wildly and safe through
the shower of bullets that rained around
him. Every man with a cayuse tore in
pursuit, but they only brought back
eight half-dead horses. Stokes had
staked relay beasts at different points
along the road, and was then safe in the
Chaparral canyons toward the north.
“The gambling dens choked up with
the crowds; gold dust was heaped on
gold dust for the reward of the coward—
ly hound’s capture. Murders weren’t
rare then, but there was only one Ned-
Emory, remember.
“Four of us wouldn’t drop the search.
We let the blood-money men get out of
the way, and then we worked as we’d
toil for only our own.
“There was scarcely no scent to fol-
low, for Stokes had bribed the greasers
who furnished his horses; but we
forced our way along on nothing. Day
and night we rode with our eyes Open,
sometimes bullying and sometimes beg-
ging. It began to seem hopeless. The
do ys were running into summer again.
“One afternoon, toward twilight, we
rested on the crest Of a mountain where
the path took a sudden turn away from
a two-hundred-foot precipice.
“We were torn with the snapping
branches Of the greasewood, and full
cf extremest dirt and disgust. Sudden-
l y we heard the rustle of a step on the
fallen leaves. Under a live oak, not
thirty yards away, on the very edge of
the cliff. stood Shorty Stokes. He had
not heard us, and he stood looking at
the moon which hung a sickle in the hot
sky. The evening star was showing.
“The four of us were like stones. He
could have got to Guinea before mo-
tion’d have come to us. Then, simul-
taneously with our steps forward, he
turned and looked into our faces.
“It was a moment to test the nerve
of any man. He stood it as we were
used to seeing him face all things.
“ ‘I suppose I’m the man you’re after,’
he said. '
“He said it with the dignity of a
parson.
“In a second he had thrown downhis
pistols. IIe unsheathed his knives and
dropped them to the ground.
“ ‘Take me,’ he said. .
‘ “Four of us looked into the unflinch-
ing clearness of his eyes. As we hesi-
tated, he spoke again.
“ ‘Listen. It is not in excuse that I
speak, nor in weakening. It is to tell
you that those among you who are
men will follow my steps under like
circumstances.
“ ‘Emory gave me his hand and his
oath, in the manner of his frankness,
to stand by an arranged agreement.
“‘We [were to meet at eight o’clock
on that Sunday night. A—a beautifully
good woman was to decide on our ar~
gument which man she would marry.
.ln riding to meet my engagement I
happened on an accident. Within half
a mile of the settlement, close onto
time, my piebald went back on his
lxaunches and the groan of a man came
up from the roadside. I found an over-
loaded miner, hurt in the-leg, and the
hope in my owu heart aroused my sym-
pathy. I mounted the man on my beast
and headed him back toward camp.
“ ‘Walk as I never walk, I reached
the meeting place three minutes late.
Ah—-God—out in the darkness I saw
Emory taking advantage of the Try. '
“ ‘None of you is so much a curas to
let the life run in a man who, under his
honor, couldn’t yield a rival three min- ’
utes’ grace. '
“ ‘But, with the camp against me and
Emory the friend Of the sorriest. I
couldn’t face the music when the jus-
tice was done. 1
“ ‘It is not mercy I ask. It is life
hereafter. Come.‘
“ ‘With a common impulse we started
forward, only to halt in a frozen horror
as Stokes’ broncho threw up his head
in alarm to watch with us the back-
ward somersaulting of his master’s
body over the precipice.
“Though there was but one verdict,
even Chase said as we rode down over
the mountain that night: ‘Emory
,might have given Shorty a few minutes’
grace.’ ”—-—The Black Cat.
. A Talking Machine.
The gramophone, a talking machine,
much simpler and cheaper than the
phonograph, invented by Dr. Berliner,
the famous electrician, will soon be
put upon the vmarket. Its records of
human speech and of music, it is said,
are indestructible, and can be cheaply
multiplied to an indefinite extent by
simple mechanical means. What it has
to say or sing can be heard all over an
ordinary sized house. So devoid of
complexity is its construction that the
complete apparatus will cost only
eighteen dollars, and a smaller edi-
tion, intended for the use of children,
will be sold 'for five dollars—Chicago
Chronicle. . ' '
Norwalk Chronicler