, about to move away.
~THE EVENING
2w
-—.
ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT.
We do not want to fight ye. John, me
But, mind yel if we do, '
’T will be about the sickest job
That ever fell to you;
We’re tired o’ blufl! an’ banter, John.
An’ insults not a few.
- An' so we’d like to tak’ ye down
a ‘ A peg, or maybe two.
We do not want to fight ye. John. us.
But if ye gev’ us cause
\Ve’ll quickly deck the lion’s tail.
An’ manicure his claws;
Nor will we rest contented. John,
’ Till ev’ry cockney knows
As glibly as “God save the Queen"
The Ductrin’ called Monroe’s.
We do not want to fight ye. John.
I VVe’re Anglo-Saxons; Bosh?
' Thet flimsy can’t o’ cousinship
VVon’t any longer wash; ;
\Ve are not Anglo-Saxons. J ohn; . I
Nor any sof’-brained mush, ‘
But double distilled Americans- ‘
That’s what we are. b‘gosh -
We do not want to fight ye, J ohn,
= Shol why put out o’ sight
t The candid truth? for truth it is,
. VVe’re spillin’ for a fightl
In reach an’ weight we’re even John
I An‘ pretty much in height.
.. Say will ye pick the gauntlet up,
Or show the feather white?
-—Will Stokes, First U. S. Artillery.
THE WANDERER.
. There was presage of a storm. Mas-
ses of blue black clouds hung over the
sunset. The wind walled and died, and
died and wailed. In the roadway rusty
q leaves leaped suddenly to the air, eddied
and swirled, strove to unite with the
tree that had cast them,«shivered in the
dyke. /At the fringe of the cloud there
was a star.
A stile had been fixed at the turning
of the r'oad. It had three bars and a
step to cross by. On either side the
hedge grew thickly ; and also twotrees,
like guardians gaunt in the horrid light.
So the stile was picturesque; but it had
its uses. On the further side there
stretched a path across the meadow; it
led to the old house that had stood
among the beach trees through genera-
tions. From the stile you could see the.
turrets above the tree tops. The inher-
itor of the name of Dalrymple, the
Squire lived there. If you followed the
road you would also come to the Hall,
and enter by the great gate. But the
pathway was nearer by far. ,
A man was seated on the stile. His
back was to the road and his eyes were
fixed upon the turret tops above the
trees. He had come upon a journey;
you could tell it from his boots. He was
hungry; you could tell it from his eyes.
Such a man, indeed, as one would pass
upon the further side of the road, and
beglad to get rid of before darkness set
m.
The wind wailed in the branches, and
the clouds massed in the West, but the.
man sat still upon the stile. But when
those who were hurrying from the
storm came by, he moved to let them
pass; yet ever he dropped upon the side
that was furthest from the Hall. Such
as were women eyed him askance, and
such as were men with wonder. But
not a soul passed him a salutation. So
the man remained, and the birds cried
out for the storm. Then two maids re-
turning to the Hall came to the stile.
and tossed their heads, resenting that he
should soil with his clothes the rail
which their skirts would surely have to
touch.
Yet the stile was his oavn. Nor the
stile alone; but the grass at his feet,
and the great house at the end of the
pathway, and the broad acres that
pressed it round. There was warmth
and good cheer at the house. Still the
man moved not. Had the journey been
long, and did he linger at the stile to
rest? Or did he wait there for some one
who tarried?
Then there came the prattle of chil-
dren’s voices in the road. They babbled
merrilly as their nurse pressed them on
from the storm. And they passed the
man by. Then their voices ceased and
their feet sped faster still and many a
frightened glance they cast behind them
as they walked and hurried again. So
they heeded not the pond. But the man
watched them wonderingly. And he
saw a laborer approach along the path—
way, returning tram his work. The
pipe he smoked glowed warmly, and
the man shivered. But at the stile he
spoke to the laborer; and his voice was
hoarse, as one that was not used re-
cently.
"Whose chilren are those?” he in
' quired.
The workman stopped abruptly and
looked at the man in surprise. He won-
dered at the question, I doubt not, and
may be, he wondered at the ques-
tioner.
“Them?” he said, at last, in a strong.
broad accent. “Them’s the Squire’s
bairns.” .\
“But I thought that the Squire was
an old man?" .
“T’éwd Squire? Why, bless your
life, ’e’s been d;ad this ten' years.” ,
There was a pause. And then the
man said:
“So these are the children of his eld-
est son?”
“Noa,” said the workman, “it winna
be the eldest, ‘E wanted ’8 brother’s
gal and co 5’ she would a no w’t to say to
’im. ’e went away i’ sulks. An’ ’0 never
comeback no more. Aye, that was,20
years ago.” '
“And what became of him?"
“Aye, bless your life, ’ow should I
know. ’E’s dead, they say.”
And the brother married the lady?”
"Aye, that ’e did.” ‘
There was silence; for the man was
gazing at the turrets. The laborer was
stopped him with another question.
"And are they happy, these two?”
“’Appy?” Again the workman seem-
ed amazed at the question.
beautiful to see them.
to ’er, ‘It is,’ says L l' ’Appy?”
workman smiled.
. But the man at the stile " was silent.
‘ From the heavens there shot. a jagged
But the man
“Why, it’s
Aye, often and
often when they passes i’ the road wi’
the bairne, agoing to church mebbe, or'
mebbe not, the missis she says to me,
‘Jim, it’s a pictur’,’ she says, and I says
And the
streak 0' li rht. For a moment it lit up
the faces of the two men; then the dark-
ness had fallen like a pall. And the
workman laid his hand upon the shoul-
der of the traveller.
“Look ’ere, stranger,” he said, “I
don’t know ’00 you be, or where you
come from, or what yer doing ’ere; but
this: we’re going to ’ave such a night
as not many i’ these parts ’11 remember
the likes on, and if you’re got a place to
go to, don’t wait no longer, but make
tracks; and if you ’aven’t why come yer
ways along 0’ me.”
The stranger seemed moved; but he
replied:
“I thank you. You are’ very kind. I
have shelter from the storm.” As he
spoke his eyes were trained across-the
stile. So the laborer passed on his way.
And the storm gathered. Thunderous
clouds loomed overhead. The air was
thick, and pressed upon the brow. A
great bird rose from the rushes at the
pond’s verge and shrieked to a surer
refuge. The wind dropped. .
But the man lingered. And over in
the meadow, in the pathway, there ap-
peared a light. It drew nearer, and
swung gently to and fro. The traveler
saw it was carried in the hand of a man
walking. He was clad in a coat that
was lined With fur, and his face was
soft and white. At the stile he saw the
man. He frowned, and would have
passed. But the stranger stopped
him.
“Mr. Dalrymple,” he said.
The other raised his lantern till it
shone in the face of the man. He shud-
dered slightly, and again would have
passed on his way. But the traveler
stood before him so that the path was
closed.
“Mr. Dalrymple,” he repeated.
“By what right do you bar my way?”
The tones were quiet but imperative, as
of a man accustomed to receive defer~
ence. “And why do you call me by
name?”
“I have news of your brother,” said
the man.
"He is alive?" The words were said
gladly, but there was a gulp at his
throat when he spoke. The man saw
the gulp.
"He will never return,” the man re-
plied. '
“By what means,” said the Squire,
“can I tell that you speak with author-
ity?”
The man put his hand beneath his
rags and drew forth the faded photo-
graph of a woman. On the back there
was a name written. He passed it to
the Squire.
The Squire looked at it. . And he
turned it over and read what was writ-
ten on the back. Then he raised his
hand and uncovered his head. And he
said to the man: ‘
“May I keep this memento?”
the man nodded.
“What you tell me,” he said quietly,
“is only that which, necessarily, I have
always understood. Nevertheless, this
confirmation grieves me deeply.” There
was real sorrow in his voice. And that
too, the man noticed. “Did my brother
have no message?” .
“He spoke much of a ,woman.” said
the man.
“Can you tell me her name?”
“It is Marianne.”
The Squire was silent. Then softly,
“Poor fellowl” and again, “Poor fol-
low l” to himself. “It is my wife of
whom he spoke,” he said to the man.
“I trust she is well,” said the man.
“She is very well. I left her but now
with the children.”
As he spoke the first heavy raindrops
fell from the clouds. They were omin—
ous of the storm to come. 0n the water
in the pool they pattered softly.
“I fear,” said the Squire, “you have
travelled far and are weary. It is pos
sible that you are at a distance from
your home and there is a terrible night
before us. The rain has already begun.
You may hear it on the pond. Will you
not go to the Hall for some rest and re-
freshments?”
“I thank you,” said the-man, replying
in almost the words he had used to the
laborer. “I have r all I need.” And
again his eyes seemed to gaze into the
darkness beyond the stile.
There was the sound of a rumble of
wheels on the road, and two lights
shone out of the dimness. The lights
brightened; the sound cleared; a broug-
ham and pair drew up at the turning.
... My carriage meets me here,” said the
Squire, “and I am somewhat pressed
for time. But you have laid me under
a deep obligation; is there no way that
I can serve you?”
“There is one,” said the man. . “I
And
The Squire hesitated. It was only
momentary. But a flush rose to the
cheek of the stranger. “It is my hands,”
he said. “I will wash them in the
pond.” '
' But the Squire had pulled off his
sealskin glove, and he held out his soft,
white palm. The other clutched it in
his bony hand, and for a moment the
eyes of the two met in the light of the
lamp. The Squire started, and released
his grasp. There was a look in his face
that held something of fear. When he
entered his carriage the look remained
still on his face.
And the man sat again on the stile.
in the darkness the lights from the Hall
shone brilliantly, and he gazed at the
lights. Then he turned his eyes to the
trees that were dim around the pond,
and again from the pond to the lights.
Was their happiness at the lights? Was
there peace in the pond? So the man
crossed the stile. In the quietness be-
fore the storm there was a great cry. It
was a. cry of despair; yet a cry of hope,
of joy.
The Squire heard it, and stepped his
carriage. The laborer heard it as he on-
‘tered his cottage and lingered at the
door till his wife called out for the
drught. The children at the Hall heard
it as they sat at tea, and dropped their
spoons askance, listening to hear it
again. But the treesat the pond bent
closely; the circles melted away. aAnd
the storm burst—Black and White.
you seem a civil sort, and I’ll tell you"
should like to shake you by the hand I” -
FORII—SWEET GRADUATES.
Dainty and Inexpensive Dresses which
Any Summer Girl May Copy. ‘
The New York Herald offered prizes
for the best designs in inexpensive sum-
mer dresses, having in view especially
the season of graduation; but many of
those submitted are pretty enough to
induce women who _ are several years
past the diploma milestone to crib some
of their daintiness for mountain and
seaside wear.
Accompanying we give three of the
illustrations and. descriptions published
by the Herald.
No. 1 costs $9.98. It is made of'thin
muslin, of a fifty-cent quality, twelve
yards being used. Two dollars and fifty
cents buys the ten yards of. lace inser-
tion with which the t0p and bottom of
the Spanish flounce on the skirt and the
MUSLIN, COST $9.09.
unshirred yoke are outlined. The shir-
ring in the yoke and rufiies are made of
the muslin. Five yards of ribbon, at
twenty-five cents, for the belt and the
neck piece; one and a half yards of lin-
ing, at ten cents, and a card of hooks
and eyes, for eight cents, are included
in this estimate.
Eight yards of organdie at thirty-
eight cents are required for No. 2. The
valenciennes lace which trims the baby
ORGANDIE, cosr $10.04.
Waist in perpendicular rows and flu-
ishes the rufiies in which the puffed el-
bow sleeves terminate, as well as the
Spanish flounce on the waist to which
three bands are applied, will cost $2,
four pieces being necessary. Eight
yards white satin ribbon cost $2. If the
work of a seamstress 'for two days at
$1.50 a day is added. the total expendi-
ture will be $10.04.
The simple girlish dress'which is mod-
eled in the style of No. 3 will cost $5.60.
This provides for nine yards of white
WHITE ORGANDIE, COST $5.60.
organdie at twenty five cents, of which
the entire skirt is made. Two box plaits
.of insertion laid over the front of the
waist and one in the back need one
and a half yards, which costs twenty-
five cents. The urge collar of organdie
reaching to the waist in front is edged
with three and a half yards of embroid-
"ery at twenty cents a yard. The sleeve
ribbons, sash ends, stock collar and but-
terfly bows at the belt require eight
yards of white satin striped taffeta rib-
bon at thirty cents a yard; The waist
is gathered at neck and belt.
Sunday in Holland.
What is Scotland coming to? Sun-
day’driving and picnicing, Sunday ‘cy-
cling and golfing—these and similarly
frightful backslidings have long filled
the devout minds of the unco’ guid
with anguish and dismay. Now a
worse horror. has happened. At their
meeting last week the Glasgow Corpo-
ration resolved, thOugh. only by a nar-
row majority, to open the public baths
for four hours on Sunday mornings!
As one of the minority remarked. this
will make Sundays-the same as other
days of the week. Peoplefiwill even be
able to wash themselves. It is the
heaviest blow t at has yet been dealt
at'the sanctity 0'.- the Scottish Sabbath.
—London Truth.
Addicted to Living.
M. de Boissy, the oldest doctor in
France, has just kept his 105th birth;
day. He continues in such good health
that he hopes to rival his father, who
lived to be 108. ’ , .
’l
.‘
GAZETTE
A ‘ go ny‘
The wonderful cure related below IS
by no means unusual with Hood’s Sar-
saparilla. This great medicine has
given health to suffering children,
even when health seemed impossible.
The secret of‘its success is that it puri-
fies, vitalizes and enriches the blood.
“I wish to tell of a wonderful cure
effected by Hood’s Sarsaparilla.
years ago my little boy was sudden-
ly seized with a severe lameness, appar-
ently in his right knee, which some phy-
sicians said was rheumatism, while others
said it was hip disease and that it was
Incurahle
During the next Winter and spring he
became rapidly worse. We took Jimmie
toaspecialist, who said it was hip disease.
At this time the affliction became so
severe that we could not move him with-
out ‘causing screams of agony. He be-
came reduced in weight to 30 pounds, and
was but a shadow of his'former self. We
had about given up hope when we read of
a cure by Hood’s Sarsaparilla of a similar
case. We resolved to try this medicine.
Jimmie was decidedly improved after
taking the first, bottle. He was even .
Better
after the second. We have since used
over a dOZen bottles of the medicine, and
the change has exceeded our expectations.
James is now able to walk without the
aid of crutches and goes to school every
day. He has been wonderfully cured
by Hood’s Sarsaparilla.” J. 0. RUNDELL,
Oakley, Michigan.
Druggist C. C. Tubbs says he knows the
Rundell boy has been wonderfully
Cured
by Hood’s Sarsaparilla and that Mr. Run-
dell is thoroughly reliable. He has a good
sale of Hood’s Sarsaparilla and Hood’s
Pills, both of which are giving 'periect
satisfaction. He'says Hood’s Pills seem
to be the coming family cathartic.
N. B. If you decide to take Hood’s Sar-
saparilla do not be induced to buy any
other. Insist upon Hood’s, because
Hood’s
Sarsaparilla
{'52: fine True Blood Purifier. All druggists. s1.
Pfepared by C. I. Hood 8; Co., Lowell, Mass.
are easy to take, easy
HOOd,S Pills to operate. ascents.
emu
HATH‘URN
SPRING
WATER
FOR THE
Stomach,
Bo wels,
Liver and
Kidneys.
FOR SALE BY
The Holmes, Keller &Sellecl Cl
WILLIAM s. KEMP,
Carpenter -:- and -:- Builder,
34- West Main St.. Norwalk.
Mr. Kemp has been a carpenter and builder
in Norwals for the past :25 years. and refers to
owners of buildings erected under his super-
vision as to workmanship. .
Chilton Paint,
Every gallon of paint made by the
Chilton Mfg. Company is mixed and
ground in pure Linseed Oil. All shades
are mixed and ground by machinery
seven times, making them uniform and
even. Compare the size of cans and
weight with the cheaper makes. You
get an honest gallon. Give it a trial and
you will be convinced.
H. H. WILLIAMS
1-7 Main St.
SPECIAL SALE
Sailor Hats
NOW READY.
Unlrimmed, mo and llpwards,
Trimmed, 50c and llpwards,
_ Powder-Ts.
Five .
,3 Water Street, NorWalk
is embodied in this “fast, easy-running, much-talked-
about ” mount. can only be secured by the most
approved methods, finest material and skilled work-
manship. . ‘
The '96 Stcarns is the best bicycle it is possible to
produce. Finished at your option in orange or black.
Address now for beautifulnew catalogue. ,9
, . “the Yellow fellow." _ Id
E. C. STEARNS 6: C0., Makers. Syracuse, N. Y.
BUFFALO. N. Y. Tonomo, ONT. x
@XOXOXGXOXOXO
H. R. B_ULKLEY & C0., Agents, SOUTH NORWALK.
@XON©§<©>€@N© .
Q
SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. -
YOUR FRIENDS ARE USING
PLAISTED’S COUGH REMEDY
AND RECOMMEND I’I'S USE
Get a Bottle at once, 25 and 50 Cents.‘
ALL DRUGGISTS.
’ m oi n 2: It‘—
If you Don’t believe it, Come and See
$IOOBICYCLES FDR, $65.
PIEBGE, . Lalesl ’96
AMES, Pattern.
mu -
ooiumnus. Builiopfiilf'
HOBSMAN‘
NORMA", ’ Full~liuaranlee.
Easy Terms.
DIANA,
‘WE ARE‘ NOT IN THE COMBINE.
For Terms and Lease of NorWalk Fairlcrounds, apply to
LUTHER M. WRIGHT,
Carriage Factory and Repository, Franklin & Madison Sis... to. Norwalk
Branch Shops at BFJII River ani Dorian.
If you are able to
pay $100 for a bicy-
cle, we content A
with anLhut a
. STANDARD OF THE WORLD.
Nineteen years of reputation for building the best bicycle, backed
by the certainty of quality assured by our screntrfromcthods,
should mean much to any buyer of a. bicycle. There rs but one
Columbia quality—one Columbia price—
3100 TO ALL ALIKE.
Beautiful Art Catalogue of Columbia and Hartford Bicycles is free ifyou call upon any
Columbia Agent; by mail from us for two 2-ccnt stamps. .
POPE MFG. co, Hartford, Conn.-
Branch Stores and Agencies in almost_ every oi .and town. If Columbia: are not
properly represented in your Vicinity, let us know. '
PRIVATE
Instructions given 1 .
BOXING .
" at the pupil’s home-
’f'o
That you Can save money
by buying your Meets
and Fish at .
r. w. smurs,
55mm Street.
Everythingg-‘irst Class.
CLASS
Now ferming, and .
plicants desiring
join should apply
once to
_ Prof. Geo. Yoerg
.. , . Soutthorw‘alk.
.r-r at this Oflice.
OPEN svsmuco
Norwalk Chronicler