the thoughts return tbstbar
lily.
of m huh linger-sums
tbsdsy
" aslffltmlmaytaksa
M: . , »
God knowetb why. read my
. twins as sweet.
3.3. B. in Marlon Spectator.
.DECEPTION.
. this dayI liva in perpetual fear of
him. indeed I am continually
, _ "with the belief that he is scour-
theem‘th for me, thirsting for re-
and that is why I shun the
, , of men and live aysolitary, se-
_ life. only venturing out at dusk
svoarlnga beard(which doesn't suit
and blue glasses (which, I don’t
no a means of disguise. Of course
Shoald never have happened. I admit
" A word, of explanation and all
'_ dhave been well, and I should not
. be’living with the sword of Damo-
hanging over my head. But I let
1mpoununity slip and plunged myself
as intrigue which may yet end in
W
‘k began with a very simple mistake
part. I was loubging on the pier
scum one fine morning in Septem—
lbjr.‘ listening to the grand selection
, ‘ ' ’ has ”Bohemian Girl" (they play
this everyday at Eastsea) and watching
,fie promenaders. when my eyes fell on
a young lady who was sitting in a quiet
corner reading a novel. I could not see
her face, for it was hidden by a crimson
‘ pikuol. but her general appearance at
once told me that it was Flo Beresford,
or the prettiest girls Iknow. and.
dly congratulating myself. I rose
cinema to her. .
‘ so absorbed was the in her book that
she did not hear me approach, and to
attract her attention (I know her very
. , well) I playfully tapped the sunshade
with my paper. She looked up in a mo-
ment. and then, to my horror, I saw I
had made a mistake; it was not Flo,
but a stranger.
I stood paralyzed, trying to frame an
apology. but before I could get the
. words out I was amused to see a lovely
mile of evident recognition and a still
s
._ face.
"George!” she cried in a joyous tone.
come? But there, sit down. ”
made the fatal error.
; that she was mistaking me for him.
' r , r
.; lasso. enchants-nee out“
lovelier blush overspread a charming
"This is a surprise. When did you
, Now, I know that this was where I
It was evident
that I had a double, and equally evident
detention." Inbound-as
had spelled M~ with one a or,
' She opened with her eyes. ,
“Necsssary,?’shessld. “Why. there's
nosochwudintheletterdfl ‘
“Isn't tbml" I murmured. "Lotus
H
Yes. I read E. but I don't think it
would be rlgbttolstsnyoue‘elsodoss.
My theory was correct. however.
“Iain wrong." I said, as I rot
It to her. “I didn’t use the word."
"I knew you didn’t." '
There was a pause.
“And—and you don’t want to draw
Mk?”
“Not for worlds." I cried recklessly.
“Draw back indeed. " ‘
We talked of many things after that.
She told me about her mother, who was
an invalid. it appeared.
“And I 'shan't be able to come out
this afternoon," she said. "but you'll
come up and see momma?"
I hesitated a moment—only a mo-
ment. ' ‘
“Yes," I said. “But do you know—
it’s very funny—but the fact is I’ve no-
tually forgotten where you’re staying.
Ha. ha!" .
“Oh, you stupid boy! South Parade.
of course. "
“Of course. Number?"
“Eleven. ” *
“To be sure."
S‘Mumma will be so pleased to see
you,” . l
“I shall be pleased to see mamma.”
I responded. . ,
The hand had ceased playing now.
and I saw her of! tho pier—saw her
home. in fact.
”This afternoon then?" she said
brightly as I bade her good morning.
I said yes, but I did not mean it.
No. I had resolved to let the matter go
no farther. Up to this point it had sim-
ply bcen a very innocent joke. But it
should end.
Hang it, you know it wasn’t rightl
In fact, it was dishonorable. I—well.
then I thought of her answer and what
it way likely to be. and—well, at 8
o’clock I was sitting in the front draw-
ing room at No. 11 sipping tea and
talking to a very charming old lady who
welcomed me as—o son.
Lucy accompanied me to the door
when I took my leave.
"What time shall I call for you?" I
asked.
“Seven."
“1 shall live in torture till then. ”
"No. you must live—in hope." she
replied, and then she disappeared.
I was there at 7. She was ready. She
put her arm through mine quite confid-
ingly, and we walked down the pier.
Our corner was vacant, and we sat
down. Her eyes were very bright. and
her cheeks were flushed. It was a mild,
warm evening. The sea splashed lazily
on the golden sands, and the band play-
ed a dreamy waltz.
“Have you forgotten?” I murmured
as I took her hand.
”Forgotten?”
“Your answer?"
She was silent.
“Lucy, what is it? Speak! This—this
suspense is killing me. "
I think I did it pretty well. There
was a decided thrill of genuine passion
in my voice.
The fact is, I believe I loved her.
“It’s—it's a word of th-three let-
ters, " she murmured.
H of thm!‘_
“George, is my hat straight?“
(Smart
I know I ought to have .undeoeived
her. to have murmured a few words of
apology. raised my cup and gone away.
but I did not do this. Perhaps it was
hereyes or her mouth or her hair. I
don't know. But. anyway, she drew her
skirts aside, and I sat down.
"What made you come so—so sud-
denlyl” she asked.
"Whatl" thou recovering myself.
“Why. you. of course." She blushed
divinely.
“Couldn’t you wait for my answer?"
she murmured softly.
"No." I said, "I couldn’t.”
Elbe turned over the pages of her nov-
el in abstracted fashion. 0n the fly leaf
I caught sight of some writing-”'l'o
Lucy from George." and the date.
Then a sudden inspiration struck me.
" I bout my head close to hers. so close
. ,tliat astray tendril of her brown hair
‘ . brushed my cheek.
, “Lucy." Iwhlspered. almost putting
any lips to hershellulike little our. “what
' “t is yopr answer?"
She laughed.
‘ "Wouldn't you like to know?" she
laid. "I posted the letter this morning. "
"In—~in msvver to my letter?" I put
in. taking a step in the dark.
“Yes. in answer to your letter. And
you'd have use it tonight."
"And as it is I've missed it.”
"Yes. you’ve missed it. "
“But you'll tell me what—must you
said!" .
shs beat her head and toyed with
’tbct‘assslofherparasol. Showssvery
Ive half a mind not to—justto
”all you.” she murmured.
“Do you want to drive me didact-
, all” I cried.
‘ pple of lsughteroame from be;
~ ‘ vents-n me!"
“has. lists."
Glow-not new. "
M I wondered what ltwsshslb‘ad
7 ll . lptl.
firm are if you’d any waltsdl’
“T ‘Wo-htonight perhaps"
also an. ltsssutsdtciss sham ”it.”
This was after—after the band had
played three waltzes and two descriptive
pieces, and it was time to go home.
I saw her home, of course, and we
lingered at the gate another half hour.
“I may tell momma?" she whispered
softly as I released her.
“Yes, do," I said.
After all, what did it matter?
Then I suddenly felt the pressure of
her lips to mine. and the next moment
she had vanished. And as I walked
back to my hotel smoking a cigarette I
thought what a pleasant evening I had
spent.
Alas! I never saw her again. I should
have met her on the pier the next morn-
ing, but I did not do 'so. I don’t think
--I say I don't think—l should have
done so in any case, but the real reason
why I didn't Was this:
As I came down the next morning I
met a gentleman on the stairs who was
so like me that we might have been
twins.
It was “George. " .
What did I do? Why, promptly pack-
ed my portmuntoau and took train to a
remote village in Scotland. I often won-
der now if be ever found out. Of one
thing I am certain. She would not tell
hint—8t. Paul’s.
Deaf and Dumb at Intervals.
While talking to some friends in
Wilkcsbarre recently Patrick Henley
was stricken deaf and dumb. He wrote
on a piece of paper: "Do not be alarm-
ed. This will pass of! in three days. I
know what it is. l have had it before."
It seems that Henley. while in Ireland,
so years ago. was thrown from a horse.
'As a result oh injuries received he was
deaf and dumb for ;thrce days Every
four years since then he has had a simi-
lar attack. lasting lncsch lnstsnoethree
daysu-Philsdolphla Record.
mum.
Slur—There! liow *do you like my
singing?
ne—Tbere is certainly a amt deal
of feeling in it.
"Th“k ,0“. n .
"1st about to remark. it gave
he so lapse-slob that you were feeling
,doa‘hdfortbsactsswl clearance,
of m MW» ‘ Jou-
; . math-I coaldn'twalt. Lamas
“M?"
N
a
>365,”
L
Franklin and Madison Streets, ‘
' la replacing our dinner oodles set estimate: we dad‘many sets shalt; s {me~ a r... cups or saucers.
others a few plates. andsomc a covered dish. etc, andaot wishing to hold these goods for those who may
' “willing toboy a short set. we, have putthcm all on our special bargain tables and wall to l the rsco
pieces as odds and ends. These sets were sold for from his to .35 each, and comprise some of the finest
decorated were we import, but we will offer these peiceslar less than you can buy the comm most shin
Trenton were. ' I
This is a golden opportunity for those
200
6o “‘ platters, from too up.
400 “ plates, from so up.
25 “ pitchers from 7c up.
And lots of sugar bowls, ,butter dishes, butter pads, bowls, sauce heals, 5p noncrs, l))llc plates, cheese dishes,
cake plates, fruit dishes, fancy mugs, etc.
The prices on these 30068 Will remain as they are now marked until they are all sold, but we would ad
vise an early inspection to insure a good variety.
N. Bé—We have 50 large size bread falters, made of the best quality of tin, and, usually sold for 90c;
we offer this week for 49c each. .
OPEN EVERY EVENING.
I
who wish odd pieces of decorated ware, su :h as covered dither,
platters, pitchers. bowls, sauce turcans, one-half dozen cups and saucers, plate; or sauce dishes. ‘
50 decorated covered dishes, from'zoc up. ‘ ,
cups and saucers, from be a piece up.
l
l
FREE DELIVERY.
Wagons, Bicycles and
OF EVERY DESCRIPTION
UTHER M. WRIGHT’S
Factory and Repository,
w
Winter U
FOR GENTS, LADIES AND CHILDREN.
' M Washington Street,
In large variety and excellent
In d er
W. S. STURTEVANT, North Main, and Ann Streets.
Horse Goods
\Villl be sold for the
Next
Ten
Days
at
Your
Own
Price.
Wu”
The cause of it, "Hard Times.’
~ Cure for them, “Gold Cure" cost.
Come and see at.
. A .v. M
Wear!
val no at
A. Dickerman a. Son’s,
W,
South Norwalk, Connecticut.
' and fllbcrt nails generally associated
South Horwalk.
abalone bwoslswbt’mhuuu.
W“ . .I i I
It is certainly no easy task.
Kaleidoscope and Tennessee.
Kamchatka and dispensary
Would make some spellers colicky.
Diphtheria .3 mutual-s
And aliquot and ssssafrss.
Infalllbls and ptysllsns. ,
Allopstby and rheumatism
And cataclysla and beleaguer.
Twelfth, eighteenth. rendezvous. intrigues
And boats of other words are found
On English and on classic ground.
Thus Bering strait and ulchaolmas.
Thermopylsc. cordilleras,
‘ , Suite. jslsp. hemorrhage and Burma.
Cinqucloll and ipooaouanha
And Rappahannooll. Shenandoah
vAnd Schuylkill and a thousand more
Are word» some first rate spellers mine
In dictionary'lands like this.
Nor need one think himndf a aoroyle
If some of show his efforts loll.
Nor deem himself undone forever
To miss the name of alt-her river—-
The Dnleper. Heine or Uut‘alqulver.
-E. I‘. Dyer in Good Housekeeping.
LIzX—Isliificn.
She was a thin slip of a girl, with
pale. sullow checks and a figure as fragile
as the flowers she carried in her basket.
It was her eyes and her bands which
marked her ofl‘ from the common herd.
Had these been of regulation pattern,
there would have been nothing to dis-
tinguish her from any dozen of her com-
panions. But her cyemvhioh were brown
in color. were large and lustrous and
bad a provoking habit of drooping the
lashes when she looked at one. Whether
calculated coquatry or native born uran-
usr chiefly concerned would have puz-
zled an expert to decide. That it was
"fetching" few men would have ven-
tured to deny. Her hand, small and
well shaped, boasted the taper fingers
with birth and breeding.
She sold flowers in (Jheapslde. Her
station was the steps of the Peel statue,
and every morning, week in and week
out, as the clocks of the city were strik-
ing 10 shewould deposit her basket at
the foot of the column and prepare for
the business of the day.
From 10 to 6 she plied her wares dil-
igently, pushing the sale With all the
tact which n life's experience had taught
her and all the wiles which a woman’s
wlt could suggest. But each evening,
when the weary city was fast emptying
and the bell of the groin cathedral was
still echoing overhead, hllr eye would
sweep e long length of crowded as-
phalt‘jith searching glances, and as
she scanned the teeming multitude
pouring westward a spot of crimson
would suddenly show in the wan, white
cheeks and the dark brown orbs would
flash and kindle with a curious mystic
light.
He always contrived to be in Cheap-
side between 6 and 6:30. It was their
custom to walk together down Queen
Victoria street to Blackfriars bridge. At
this poim they separated—she crossing
to the Surrey side, be taking a “turn"
through Fleet street and the Strand be.
fore following in the same direction.
They had commenced the practice in
midwinter, had continued it throughout
the spring. and now they had reached
midsummer.
From afar she could distinguish his
barrow among the throng of vehicles
which filled the thoroughfare. When he
had “doubled" the corner and got into
the comparative “slack water” of the
churchyard, she crossed over and joined
him. Anod that was almost impercepti-
ble, answered by a smile that was bright
and sunny, was all the recognition that
pasml between them.
The girl‘s glance wandered involun-
tarily to the barrow. It was the season
for cherries, and she noticed the long
array of empty bruskets.
"Been 'avin a good day, .708, ain't
yer?"
“Middlin like. "
“W‘y y'ain't on'y one ‘molly’ left."
“P'rups I been givin ’om away. " The
tone was unmistakably surly.
For the next 80 yards they walked on
in silence, the girl watching the man
furtively. the man pushing the burrow
lunguidly and staring strenuously at
nothing.
"llu' yet thort on wet I tolo yer?" he
said presently, as the girl stopped oi!
the pavement to avoid collision wit u a
parcels boy. The light that bad light-
Work Done
' Promptly.
v
,W; .W- .111 u —r n cure. a..- .
JAMES GOLDEN,
‘ READ Elllcrssll’ropdsler.
THE ”WM“
PRINT-
ING! '
9! WIN“ JIOI
"II“.
4; it
cued them dim] out of her oycs. the
her two hot at once its youth and ani-
mation. .
The man continued to stare into vu-
harmw.
I can’t do at."
the voice palpitatcd with emotion.
patiently.
years ago. "
a
rd mproscbfully.
moneyudrlnkin till he’s g. the ‘devlls
when your
a M
Meditation
color which had come into her clueks
forsook thorn. her mouth grow hard. and
ccncy and walk mechanically after his
“I can't do at. Joe. I can’t do at. I
ain't got no rest these two nights—but
The words come with dih'lculty and
The man shrugged hls'shoulders im-
“Wot's the sad or 'lm, sh? A
dod'rln ole lunatic. Wat’s the use or
’lmteranybody? Ho otter been dead
~ "Ile’s me father. Joe," she murmur-
”fi‘sthcrbeblovvedl Ho’s dun a lot
for yer. ain't he? Y’ort tor feel proud
as ’lm, didn‘t yer? Pinchln his gal’s
an talklu ‘tommy rot' ’hout bein a gem
since an the sun or a genolmsa. W'y
bealn’tgotncmorodsceacy ’as splg.
When he can’t gorge bit-elf no longer.
a pig '5“ lie in the will trough. an
gooslmsu father’s had a
metal he‘ll mm by thebosr ’lcagslde
flsslolesglaeeUst the girl out of
the more! blurs. Thumbnails:
mm “l the
"P’rsps he ain’t as good as hs might
be. But' there's wuss about. ‘an—be
wasn't always so, Joe. " ‘ '
“Oh, it you likes to put up wiv’ 'lm,
'Liaa. so dol "I‘alu't common: 0' mine
--,is it?" he added nondlly.
“I can’t san' ’lm tothe workns. Joe. "
“But yer can sen’ me to the devil!”
be snapped sharply. and an nab. 100k
leaped out of his eyes. »
They passed under therailvray bridge
which spans the lower end of Queen
Victoria street and reached the point
where they usually parted. The girl
stopped. but the man went on.
"Aren’t yer goin ter sell out. Joe?”
she queried timidly as he turned in the
direction of the river.
“ Wot for?"
The tone and the manner puuled her
more than the words.
For a moment they stood confronting
each other, the face of the man working
convulsively and the girl’s features con-
tracted with pain.
Blackfriars bridge was crossed in si-
lence. Turning into Stamford street she
whispered hoarsely: ”I’m sorry for yer,
Joe; but if it’s hard on yer ‘ it’s rough
on me. Anything as yer ars’d Inc to do,
Joe—anything as I cud do 0’ mesolf like
—I'd do at. mate, without soyin why
or wherefore. But seu’ the ole man to
the workus—I can’t do that, lad. I
know yer think I ortcr, but Ican’t, Joe
—I can‘t do at. ” . ‘
"A pretty fool yer made 0’ me now,
ain‘t yer? I giv’ up the booze‘lyan out
tommiss w on Imtnk up wiv yer, \Iliza,
but ye’d see me at blazes sunen‘an
giv’~ up that drunken ole wagabone \ lt
lives on yer, an porwents yer havin
man as ud be good to yer.” R\
“It ud break me heart, Joe, ter ’ave ‘l,
'im the in tho workus. "
“Yer thinks a bloomin sight more uv
a wrong on than yer does uv a right
on," said the man savagely.
b‘he gave him a look which must have
convinced him of his error, but blinded
by passion he refused to see.
“Well," he snarled, “one of oz ’as
got tor scoot—him or me. There ain't
room for two.”
The girl made no reply and they wont
on. But silence was too oppressive and
stifling. N our Waterloo station the man
spoke again. .
“ How much yer tuk, ’Liza?” -
The question was abrupt, but the
tone was friendly. It indicated achange
of feeling.
“Saving an three. ”
Ilo tfxll'llllt'd his hand. She put the
money into it without a word.
. “Meet me at the Garding in the
mornin, ’Liza. and I’ll stock the baskit
for yer,” said be, returning her nine-
pence.
It was a curious transaction. but the
explanation was probably to be found in
tho despairing utterance of the woman.
“He’s 'ad ’01: awful W agen. Joe.
Lars night it war that dreatlful”—-
She stopped, warned by the cloud that
was sweeping up over her companion’s
brow. ,
The man’s countenance had suddenly
darkened, sparks from the nether fires
danced in his eyes, the old, hard, vin—
dictivo look had returned. “'
“I wish he may die. I wish be war
dead!" he muttered fiercely.
“011, Joe, Joe, if yer love me, dun any
thim words. " untreated the girl.
“I says ’em cos I loves yer; cos it’s
on’y ’im wot’s a kcepinyer from amen
as wants tor make u ’appy woman uv
yer. I says '01)) cos I means ‘em. No
‘fcnsc tor yer. ’Liza."
“Y'ain’t a bad sort, Joe.” said the
girl. turning her swimming eyes full
on him, “but yer a bit down on the ole
man." Ho gave the burrow an unneces.
sarily rigorous shove.
“I‘m goin inter the 'Cut,‘ ’Lizm’ter
finish. No. I ain‘t dun so dusty"—an-
swering the question the girl had put
to him half an hour before. ”I started
out wiv a don-n. all this ycre’s th’ on'y
one half.” Ho emptied the contents of
the basket ou‘tlue board. “I shall knock
’orn in the ‘Cnt’ at frcppeuoe. 'Tain‘t
orfon they see cherries like them in New
Cut. They’re city fruit, they are. Try
’cni. " Ho filled a bag and gave it to
her. “I'll look roun after I clear out."
As he walked away his eyes followed
her. “She thinks a bloomin sight too
much, she do, 0‘ that drunken ole scomp.
her father " he growled, staring after
tho rclrcat‘ng figure, “but I ain’t all a
fold, mam. (lrit's wuth gold."
l' I 5 I I i
In the third pair back of a tenement
house in Lamhetll a girl was kneeling
by the side of a bod. A paper bag was
lying on tho covorh-t. and some olwrrios
had fallen on the floor. 0n the bud lay
the body of a man. The room reokwl
with tho'fumos of whisky. The long.
lithe fingers of the girl's right hand
were clasped convulsivoly round tho
hand of tho motionless llguro extended
on the bod.
“Just" she moaned. ”Joe, lad. yo’vo
got fir wish. The ole mon'll never rllo
yer any more. I love yer, mate. dearer
than life. but it's thim words 0' yourn
as I shall hear. so not person's, on tho
day yer takes me later church."-St.
James Budget.
spelled la Transmisslou.
This is the way the railway man
heard the conundrum:
‘ 'At what time shortly before noon is
it It o’clock? At a quarter of Ill, be-
oause aquartcr of Ill is ll.”
And this the way be wasted it on on
his friction:
“At what time shortly before soon
is it Bo'clock? At ll :45; because ll :45
is ll. It doesn't sound right either.
blame it. but that's the way I heard it. "
«43th Tribune. ,
“a...“ ”Na—Mar
O
rats was trans racy em.
Hrs. liewly Rich (shopping in Paris)
course.
Enoch Balesuomwlmportsd. aw
i wee-www- a as:
dams? From where. s‘ll vcus plum-
fists York Time. , y ,r,
j i
'l‘;
\
mellow us some wrapsulmported. of?
Norwalk Chronicler