w E EIFKL Y N .0 'RW A. L K " Tet-EA ZET T E.” erE MILL SPRITE.‘ BY CHARLES M. HARGEIt. The great stOne flouring mills of the northwestern wheat region have little about them to remind one of the modest structures that clatteringly turn into flour the farmers’ grain in the country districts farther east. There are no farmers driving up to the door and un- loading dusty sacks of yellow wheat while they chat with the miller. Whole freight trains instead, puff their noisy way under the massive archways into the building and car after car is emptied in a twinkling, each one dis- charging its load through a trap-door in its floor. Then. the cars, having been almost as quickly loaded with flour as they Were emptied of grain, are pushed on through another great stone arch- way, and go forth to carry the product to eastern markets. ‘ In the Perthton millthere was general- ly one onlooker as the train-s unloaded who took no part in the work. Annie, the little crippled daughter of the jani- tor, limped up and, down the plat-form, in and out of the mill, as well as her lameness would allow. Brakemen, en- gineers and shippers all had a pleasant word for her. “The mill-sprite,” one engineer of a. poetic turn of mind had called her; and she went .by that name, even among those who did not know what the phrase meant. About midsummer a new superin- tendent, Mr. Griswold, came tothe mill. “Aren’t you afraid of being caught in the machinery?” he asked one hot evening, when he found Annie perched on a wide beam watching the wheat flow downward like a golden river. “No; I’ve always lived in the mill, ‘ and go everywhere,” she answered. “Night and day, too?” “Yes, it’s prettier at night,” she an- swered, simply; and the superintendent, whose heart sometimes swelled with ad- miration when the great structure was lighted with electricity, agreed with her. ~ He stopped a moment to watch the swinging lever which, at a pull from an assistant’s hand, pushed back the heavy cover to the deep bin, and allowed a car‘ load of new wheat, fresh from the prairies, to flow like a torrent into the receptacle. .’ "' ’Twould be death to be under that shower,” Mr. Griswold said, half to him- self, and passed on. A few evenings afterward, when she was left alone by her father in the jani- tor’s nest-like quarters in the front of the mill, Annie’s thoughts called up this remark of the superintendent about the stream of wheat. Just then she heard a low, rumbling sound in the distance. Another train of wheat was Coming. It would be unloaded in the night. She started for the door to see it roll past, and glide out. along a dark wall toward the tracks. Just before she came to aicorner she heard low voices from around the turn. On this platform, his body bent as he peered into the vast bin at his side, was the superintendent. She recognized his light gray coat and russet shoes. She pushed on, intending when she had come him to call and warn him of pos- sible danger. The rope with which he had moved the lever to loosen the con- tents of the last car hung at his side, and was still swinging from his touch. He was evidently scenting the grain for a suSpicion of moldiness. Suddenly, before she was Within hail- ing distance, though she was not far from a position directly above the su- perin-tendent, she saw a black form shoot out from behind a heavy upright timber directly behind him. The stranger sneaked toward the door of the bin, into which part of his intended victim’s body still protruded. The lame girl’s heart almost stood still with fright. She sank to the nar- row platform, and crouching there in the upper darkness, watched helplessly the struggle going on below. The stranger had leaped upon. the superintendent, and was attempting to throw him into the bin; but Mr. Gris- wold fought bravely for his life. Once, twice he was almost a. victor, but his assailant had him at a disadvantage. Already his head and shoulders were hanging over the dark abyss into which a carload of yellow Wheat had sunk and made no impression on the great space. Chnnk! came a sound above her head. Annie realized with a shudder that an- other car had been brought into posi- tion over the trap-door, and was ready to be dumped. , «u... . 4 3kg “Er-tum... The stranger below had almost over= come. the superintendent, and she saw the scoundrel glance sidewise toward the rope which moved the lever. Like a flash there came upon her for the first time a realization what a ter- rible. deed was intended. The body of the superintendent, hurled into the bin, would be covered with the flood of grain, and his fate would be unknown for days, and perhaps for weeks and months. It was but a second now before the end would come. Already the assailant had pushed off the superintendent’s hands, and she saw body and limbs diS< appear through the narrow door. She could not hear it fall on' the soft mass of grain beneath, but she knew it was there. The assassin tugged at the door. He had nothing to do now but to close and fasten it and pull the lever; and then thousands of bushels of wheat would bury the unfortunate man as firmly and fatally as though the car above should itself fall into the cavern. Annie sprang to her feet and gazed a moment helplessly about her. Then there. met her glance the long lever reaching out over the bin. If it only could be held! If the trap-door were kept- closed it would keep back the grain, and the superintendent mightbe saved. The stranger below had nearly closed the thick door. In a moment he would pull the slender rope. She looked at the lever. A weight on Two men were whispering hoarsely. if» "The last night of the month always bjtugs it, you know,” one said. “Yes, but how can we get it? Th’l watch will be on.” ‘ ! “That’s all right. I’ve been studying the thing, an' the superintendent is here albne tonight. The office men are sick.” . The roar of the train was coming nearer, and the men raised their voices. “He may show fight an’ ring in an! alarm,” said the second speaker. “N o danger,” was the reply. It came. so sharply that it seemed to be hissed - in the other’s car. “It won’t take more than a minute to settle him. We’ll jest wait till th’ train is in, an’—” ' “Whirl whizz! came the noisy freight. The engine threw out millions of sparks as it tugged up the incline, and alll sounds but _ its roar were drowned. Nothing was distinguishable until the long line‘of laden cars had disappeared beneath the black arch in the wing of the mill, and then Annie heard again: “Don’t get scared now—it’ll work all right.” Then the voices ceased. Presently she peeped anxiously around the corner. Nothing was vis- ible now but the silent, dark walls, with gleams of light coming through the scores of windows. These men were going to rob Mr. Griswold! She must go and warn him. But whatever they meant to do, it would happen “when the train was in.” And already it had come to a standstill on the dump platform. Annie seized her bonnet, to protect her brown hair from the flying flour, and not daring to go outside and at tempt to climb the long railway trestle in the darkness, turned through a small door into the depths of the mill and started for the superintendent’s office. Mr. Griswold was not there. The doors of the safe, in which the money was kept were closed, and she reflected that the small night force was prob- ably assisting in the unusual task of un- loading the train at that hour. - Out of the office she hurried, and tak- ing the upper floor because she knew its windings better, and there were few- er bclts and shafts, she turned in the direction of the great bins. Another roar told of a second car’s disposal, and she caught her breath a little as she trembled lest she should be too late. At last she turned a. corner in the tangled path she was following, and wheat bins. A line of beams led toward the gleaming electric light at the far- ther end, and to the right vast gaping spaces reached into the darkness far below. Above, the locomotive’s tug- ging, as it pulled the loaded cars into ' place for the next “dump,” could be heard above the rumble of the mill’s machinery. Annie hurried along the narrow path- way—the very one on which she had met Mr. Griswold when he spoke to her ,. aboflt the consequences of being caught under the shower of wheat. Below, ‘ some 20 feet, was another line of planks leading past the bins, into which, level with the planks, doors opened. These were for convenience in inspecting the condition of the. grain. the end over the bin would prevent the , trap’s moving; there was but one way ' to accomplish it—she must hold it her self. - On hands and knees she climbed to the edge of the. bin; then, reaching far out on the pole which moved the door, she took a firm grasp. A little tremble told her that the door had been closed by the stranger, and she fearlessly swung off! The slender pole bent and swayed with her weight, and she shuddered lest the lever should still work. If it did, she would be swept down into the abyss over which she hung helplessly, and the stream of grain pouring upon her would mean death to her as well as to the superintendent. Her small, thin arms and hands were weak. Already the muscles of her wrists were aching with the strain. Twitch! went the lever. The assassin was jerking the rope. Again and again she felt the jerk, but still the little pole did not rise with her enough to loosen the trap-door. Although the whole af- fair had occupied but a moment, it seemed to have been hours. ‘ In an in- stant longer she must loosen her hold, and then— The man was evidently growing im- patient, and she felt a jerk of unusual power. There followed a cracking sound; the lever broke, and she was falling through the darkness, the broken piece of the lever still in her hands. As soon as she realized anything fur- ther she was sliding dOWn an inclined plane of wheat, and a man’s voice, that of the superintendent, was saying some- thing to her Far above they could see the gleam of the electric light streaming over the edge of the bin, with flour dust floating in like motes in a sunbeam. “I saw him throw you in,” sobbed the child, “an’ new they’ll cover us both!” “No, they won’t,” answered the super— intendent. “The trainmen- will have to fix the lever first, and they’ll look about to see what’s the matter.” Presently the door through which he had fallen was opened, and a lantern was swung in, followed in a moment by a trainman’s head. “Hello!” called the man. “What’s the matter down there?” “I’m in here! It’s Griswold,” the su- perintendent answered. Annie heard a smothered exclama- tion of astonishment from the man. He summoned help; ropes were brought, and soon both she and Mr. Griswold were drawn up from their perilous po- sition. ' . The experience of the night had added many’ lines to the superintendent’s face, the robbers, foiled in‘the execution of their plans, had vanished without dis- turbing the safe, the memory of what he had suffered in anticipation remained with him. ' As for Annie, the little “mill-sprite” did' not lack for rewards and praise, either from the mill-owners or from the man whose life she had saved.——-Youth’s Companion. . ' -—Bentonville islthe highest point in Arkansas, 1,790 feet above the sea. ' l and though he was relieved to find that . SOLDIERS" CHORUS. From “ FAUST.” fl ff Risoluto. \..a .3.- .«'- Fun .: ""-‘"e.~-:..-‘Tr&x.: . *3" ' ~ ‘ svaoooooooounoooooooon.oooocosoaooOoOOIo-uo ........ o oooooooooooooo non-ouoooooooooocr- ooooooo I ooooooooo 6 80a ooooooooooooooooooooooooo con-O """" 0 IIIIIIIIIII 0” ------- a. nnnnn o ooooooooo . - C. GOUNOD. ggggggg oooooooooolooocoooot ccccccccccccccccccccccccccc sva ...... o oooooo o ..... on... ------------ ODI..00.0....IIIO..[OOO-IOOICCCIIOCOOIIIOO ...... o ..... coco ooooooo 8v“ ..... on... oooooooooo too-COIOIOCI'IOII nnnnnnnnn one... ----- cocoon-oooooo-oooooo.,.O.I;OIioouncooon-oon ~.. w Tardy Guests Did Notnisturb the Boston After She Had Eaten a Bun; I sat in a well-known and popular restaurant not long ago, and my sympa- thies went. out to a couple seated near me. Their table was laid for six, and very inviting it looked with its wick- ered Chianti, its pink and white rad- ishes, appetizing olives and rolls and snow cloth and napkins, with a half- dozen wine glasses at each plate. . the rest of the party did not arrive. Ten minutes passed and'the wife said: “George, I am simply starving to death, and I cannot wait any longer. I must eat a roll, an yway.” ‘ “Don’t do that! You’ll spoil your ap- petite, and it’s a specially goOd dinner, you know. They’ll be here directly.” But our party had gone from little- neck clams to soup and'from soup to lobster, yet the impolite quartette did not put in an appearance. Then the husband rose and seized his hat. “I’ll go out and look for them,” he said, nervously, “for something must have happened. They surely wouldn‘t keep a dinner waiting like this.” So he disappeared, and the moment he was out of sight the wife seized a roll, broke it apart, buttered and de- ‘ voured it with famished air. Then she brushed away the tell-tale crumbs and sat with an innocent face until herhus- band arrived. He came back alone and wearing a mighty frown. “This is absurd,” he said, “and there's no excuse for it. He knew the time and place perfectly. Here, waiter. bring us clams and soup for two.” “N o, no,” interrupted the wife.‘ “We mustn’t be ill-bred because they are. We’ll wait a little while longer. If I can do it, you can, sure.” “That’s true,” replied the innocent husband, gazing at her in admiration. “Annie, you’re a trump, and no mistake, and you ate such a light luncheon, too." “Well, I should say I did,” was the re- sponse, delivered with a Spartan air. Here the wicked ones arrived, and there was a scraping for chairs, a: frou» frou of sleeves and skirts, and then I heard: “I hope we haven’t kept you wait ing?” ' To which the hostess responded, as she held herself back from springing, panther-like, upon the first course: “Why, not at all!” Talk about the triumphs of civiliza-- tionl—N. Y. Recorder. - How Eugenie Dressed. 'The empress usually wore velvet of rich, dark colors», which wereparticu- larly becoming to her exquisitelyfair complexion. The emperor, liked to see her richly dressed, and often objected to the extreme simplicity of her morn- ing attire, which, ~it must be acknowl- edged, was often too fanciful to be ap- propriate to her high position. Every- thing she wore was well made and perfectly neat; her hair was beauti- fully dressed; but ‘she liked the com- fort 'of loose garibaldi bodices of red flannel with a plain black silk skirt over a red flannel underskirt, all of which was concealed when she went out by a handsome cloak and the fur coverings of the open carriage. I have seen her wear, within the palace, a ‘tight jacket of kmtted black wool, with a gray border, over the silk and crape dress which she wore as second Alva. It was a sort of wrap which one would expect to see on the shoulders of some old crone bending over her fire rather than on the graceful figure of the beautiful empress of the: French. I might quote other instances; such as a loose jacket of a small black and white Anna L. Bicknell, in Century. Domestic Life of the First Consul- Much of the same policy was still displayed in the official receptions held in the Tuileries. In the first place, the domestic life of the Bonapartes was carefully accented by the presence of the first consul’s. wife and sisters with their families. No mistresses were ever allowed to flaunt themselves in public under either the consulate or the empire. The same standards of conjugal fidelity were to be supposed valid in the first family of the land as in those of the masses. Then, too, there was displayed a genial familiarity, sometimes even brusque and rude, like that prevalent among the middle class—the good-fellowship which they admired above every other quality. Of course there must be ceremonial, and on high occasions the great ofiicers of state with the diplomatic corps were arrayed in a circle llke that customary in courts from immemorial times. But these latter personages, grand as they same treatment from the first consul while making his rounds as that which his relatives, his state and military of- ficials, and the plain people of France generally received at his hands.— Prof. William M. Sloane, in Century. Marriages of College Womén. women rarely marry; of 277 graduates of the latest three classes, .but ten are married. If these youngest classes are left out of account, so that we consider only women who have passed 25, we find 32.7 per cent. married; after the age of 30 is passed, 43.7; after 35, the rate beCOmes 49.7; while of those who have passed 40 years, 54.5 per cent. are married; The census tables do not fix . exactly. the general marriage rate for women of this age, but it is not far from 90 per cent. The ultimate probability of a college woman’s marriage, there- fore, seems to be below 55 per cent, against 90 per cent. for other women-- not quite two-thirds as great.—Milicent Washburn Shinn, in Century. A Dreadful Threat. Lady-I’ve got nothing for you. ' . Tram p— You haven’t, eh? Well, you’ll be sorry for this. If you don‘t give me Something to eat I’ll recom— ‘ mend you to all of my friends betWeen.‘ here and the Gulf of Mexico—Texas Siftings. ‘ " SHE WAiTED "WITH P'ATIE'NCE. i “No, no!" interposed her husband.’ mourning for her sister, the duchess of , check bordered with red flannel, etc.—— , were, had to put up with much the . Under twenty-five years old, college . Bu't' ‘
Norwalk Chronicler