:1
1: ‘ -TBE¥EVENIno UAanTTErT. 79f 3§!”LAr§fj7
A SONG OF LIFE-
Rolls the old world over right, dear:
Sun by day and st 1:": “‘7 night (1 tar;
Here is rhyme. and here is reason:
Still the red rose comes in season:
In the fields the toilers sew-1:22,
Hear the harvest bugles blowing:
.Life, my dear, is joy and weeping—-
Sowing time, and time for re: ping. .
Take thy task—if joy or sorrow;
. Still the dark will bring the moi-row:
In the storm the birds are singiwg,
And the'bellsof heaven are ringing!
. —Atlanta Constitution.
, A SUMMER NIGHT.
The hot summer - sun was beating
dov'vn on'the long white streets, and
making the flowers . on the balconies
. droop. and even the leaves of the lime
hoes hang listless and motionless in the
gut heat. Note. single soul was to be
seen in the usually so Crowded Andras-
sy street in Buda—Pesth,and the old por-
ter of the Hotel Esterhazy sat half
asleep, his chair well drawn back into
the shade; he knew very well that no one
could disturb him at that hour. ,
Esme St.‘ Maur. lay down on the sofa
lamenting that her fate had made her
spend this grilling afternoon in Buda-
Besth. “However, I shall stand three
weeks of it. What time is it, Klimja?”
“Half-past four, milady; but the gen
tleman mademoiselle expected is wait?
ing downstairs. and wants to know if
you will receive him.” ‘
“Certainly,” said Esme, lazily, fasten-
hig a pink rose into her belt.
A few seconds later a tall, sunburnt
. man came into the room. .
“So sorry, Arthur,” said the lady; “I
sin positively too tired to move; this.
I’m so glad to see you,”
heat is killing!
she went on, looking up at him. “Let
me see, it is nearly. three years since we
saw each other; what are you doing
here?” '
The man hesitated a moment, and
then became pale, and his mouth
twitched. ‘ ‘
“I was hurrying to England, Esme,"
he said, “because I heard a report about
you that I could not credit. that you
were going to be married.”
“Well,” said the girl, nervously pick-
ingofi the leaves of her rose, “it is
quite true. No, no, Arthur, it’s no
use,” she continued. sitting up and put-
ting her hand on his arm; “sit where
you are and listen. You see, dear, it
hadto come to this some day, and I may
sswell tell you here as anywhere else;
we cannot fight against-fate, and the
fates are against us. Look! It would
beten years at least before you could
marry me, and then I should be a mid-
dle aged woman. And, even if I could
wait, what am I to do during those ten
years? Grandmamma, you know,” she
went on," turning her face,‘now appall
ing in its pallor, toward him, “only left
me. £50 a year; and since her death I
have been living, yes, living on my sis-
ter’s husband! Think! The proud
Esme St. Maur actually living on
charity 1”
"But surely,” Arthur broke in,
surely—”
“Of course they don’t say so, but I
know, I know. They have three chil-
dren to educate, and look at the position
they have to keep up! I know Frank’s
income is by no means large, and I feel .
I’ve no right to be a burden to them
when I’ve a good ofier."
“Who is the man?” he said drily.
“Lord Hillsborough.” she answéred.
her eyes down.
“A man almost old enough to be your
grandfather,” he said.
Then, in a thoughtful tone, he asked:
“Do you care for him?”
“No,” she answered. “but I respect
him more than—than any one but your-
self.” ’
“Esme,” said Arthur hotly. “how
difierent you are! How calculating
and worldly you have become! I re-
member my little Esme holding forth
fiercely that love was the one thing in
all the world; that to marry a man
without love was the greatest wrong a
woman could do him.” .
“Arthur,” she said, “what can I do?
I' intend, if I marry Lord Hillsborough,
to bea good wife to him; I cannot be
that with another man’s image in my
heat; ‘I must live it down; I must
force myself to forget it.” ‘
Arthur walked away to the balcony.
“Do not make it harder for me,”
said Esme, her voice full of sobs; “what
~ am I to do? I cannot do anything to
earn my living. Look at me,” she said,
bitterly, drawing herself up to her full
heigh ; “a perfect woman, strong and
healthy, with a fortune spent on my ed-
ucation; and yet, now that I am thrown:
on my own resources—why, a shop girl
could make a better living than I could!
Bear it, dear!” she said, going over to
him, “you know that this must be the
end!” -'
“Dearest,” he said, in a broken voice,
“it is only the beginning. You love me
and yet you marry this man! It is the
beginning of wretchedness for you, and
and him, and me, for all our lives.”
“Arthur,” she said slowly, “I have
made up my mind, and I will carry it
through. I am engaged to Lord Hills-
borough and shall marry him in Octo-
ber. I cannot bear another scene like
this. - Bid me good by and gonow—for-
ever,” she added, shivering slightly.
Theman looked at her for a second
and then took both her hands in his.
“Yes, sweetheart, I will bid’you good
by and leave you forever. But let me
come in and Spend this last evening
with you. It is not much to ask, and I
promise not to speak one word you
would notlike. We will have our cof-
fee on this balcony among the flowers,
1 with the lighp. .tposite, as in those dear
old days when we first met at Ostend.
Say Imay come, Esme, for auld lang
sync—the last eveningIshall ever spend
. with you.”_ - ’
Three hours afterward the witchery
of the summer night had fallen upon
the city. Esme, sitting on her balcony.
2 moved her fan slowly to and . fro, and
’ let the mystic beauty of the night steep
itself into her feelings. “On such a
night as this,” she thought, as the old
words of the immortal dramatist came
intoher» mind; “I wonder if such a
-Ah.,',lovely. lovely night of J unel
night as this has played as weighty a
part in any one’s love story as infimine?
. And thisis to be the last—ah!" as a
shiver of remembrance came over her,
“how I shall hate the summer nights
after this!” ‘ ' .
“Allin the dar ,” said a voice at Es-
me's elbow. and Arthur sat down at the
other side of the tiny table, where the
waiter was putting . downwthe coffee
tray. . .
“Why not, Arthur,” she Said. "Who
could be barbarian enough to have
lights brought now? Look at that
queen up there I” pointing to the moon.
The man opened his lips as. if to speak,
but shut them determinedly again.
“I do not give allegiance to two
queen's.” . .
"‘Don’t you?” she said laughingly, as
she handed him a cup of cofl‘ee; “but
yen are a faithful soldier, all the same,
I hope.”
“It pleases you to be merry to-night,"
he answered quietly.
“Have you ever read Mrs.'Browning’s
‘Mask,’ Arthur?” she said. ,“How little
men understand women, after all! You
should know that the thing we seem to
be is often only a cloak to hide what we
are really feeling. But there-we ta-
booed feelings for to-night.”
"Did we! I only remember promiso
ing to say nothing to reproach you, and
I. shall keep my word.” He leaned back
and went on dreamily: “I suppose every
man has some particular way in which
he pictures the woman he loves. I al.
ways thought of you on a balcony, in a
white dress, surrounded by flowers, and
looking—well—as you look to-night. I
shall remember you always so.” ' ‘
“Arthur, your experience as a man of
the world must tell you that in a few
years your feelings will calm down;
you will come to London, and we shall
meet as friends.”
He‘looked across at her curiously.
“You speak to me as a man of the
world. I know I am speaking to a
woman of the world, not to the Esme
of three years ago. '
your calm standpoint of woman of the
world you are wrong. You believe that
my love will calm down. I know now
that it never will, and I prefer to end it
at its height, not to see it die a slow
death by the stages of afiection—i egard
—indiiference.” ,
“End it?” said Esme, “what do you
mean?”
“I mean that after tonight I shall
never see you again—according to your
own wish."
“Arthur," she said, “you misunder-
stand me. I meant only till you could
see me without—without loving me.” '
“That will he never, dear,”» he said,
“and as I am never to see you again, I
am glad to have seen you for the last '
time as I liked to see you best—as I
have always pictured you in my own
heart.”
“You are getting sentimental.” she
said, with a forced laugh. “Your cof-
fee will be cold.”
Arthur took the cup and poured a few
drops from a small green bottle into it.
"Excuse me,” he said, “I had a nasty
touch of fever a few days ago, and take
my drops in my tea or coifee like an old
woman.”
“Fever, Art-bur?” She bent forward
and looked at him. “Yes; you look
haggard and ill. I did not rotice it
this afternoon. I wish you would not
go back to that horrid India! Why
don’t you take more care of yourself?
Are you going onto London now?”
“Oh, do not talk of me,” the man said
hurriedly; “tell me about yourself.
What have you been doing all these
years? Have you been in Ostend
again!” ,
“No,” she answered gently; “I never
cared to go back there.”
“Then you really remembered and
cared, Esme?” The pain in his voice
was terrible to hear; but he suddenly
recovered himself. “This is quite like
one of those evenings. We only want
the music," he added in a difierent
tone. .
A silence fell between them for a few
minutes. They seemed unable to talk
except on the subject they both wished
to avoid. Suddenly, as though in an-
swer to Arthur’s wish for music, the
curtain on the lower balcony was again
. drawn back, and Paul de J aerschky
stepped out. - _
“Ah,” he said, gently, “on such a
night there is but one song, mia cara ;“
and his glorious voice burst forth with
passionate feeling into that song—the
wonderful love songthat has touched
so many hearts:
"Have you forgotten, love. so soon, that night
that lovely night in June,
When down the tide, so idly dreaming. we
floated where the moon lay gleaming?
Myheart-was weary and oppressed with some
sweet longing, half confessed,
When, like an answer to my signing. your
hand in mine was gently lying,
0, love. that last long look that met! Can yor1
forget? Can you forget?"
Esme bent forward with a sudden ex-
pression of agony, and buried her face
in her hands.
that!” she murmured. A great trem-
bling shook the man opposite her, but
be restrained himself, and drinking
down his coflee with one gulp, he leaned
back in his chair with closed eyes.
‘MeanWhile the great singer went on:
"Oh! night of Love. charmed night of June!
that night we vowed by heaven’s own
moon, ..
That night of nights our trot‘n we plighted.
for all eternity united!
Then first I knew your heart, my heart. one
life, one soul. no more to part! 7
Ahl then I said, whate’er betidc us. no, death
itself shall not divide us!
forget, so soon-so soon?” - .
“Arthur, Arthur,” cried Esme, kneel-
ing down beside him, “I have been mad'
[have been foolish! I cannot forget!
Love is the one thing in this world:
Rank—money are nothing. I do love
you! Iwill twaiti Why do. you not
speak, love?” she cried, as "the man sat
motionless. “Will you not take me in
your arms, kiss me, say you forgive
me?” His hand fell from her grasp.
The truth dawned upon hen—StrPaul’s.
Mr. Gladstone's father owned an ex-
tensive sugar plantation
Guina, and was, a large slave o.vne1
there. _' ‘ '
But even from ‘
“My God, not that, not -'
have made a mistake.
Can you _
in British
GUILBERT EXPLAINS
_ ' .m— '. . :
THE GAY YVETTE TALKS IN PARIS
OF HER AMERICAN SONG.
She Explains the “Golden Hair" Song to
an Interviewer, and is Profuse in
He:- Praise of a Simple Lilac Negro
Melody. . ' ' .
Mlle. YvetteGuilbert, whose. sucCess
in Paris was repeated in Newl-York,was
interviewed in Paris not long ago on
her American tour. Here are some of
the things she said: _ . .
“I sang. four weeks in New' York.
Then :I made a short visit to Chicago,
J... -.
"’ “Iv-raw».
.,
Washington, Boston and Philadelphia...
The songs which. succeeded best were
“Les Ingenues,” "La'Soul‘ards” 1‘.‘Ca Fait
Toujours Plaisir,” and the English songs
“Linger Longer, Loo”‘-' and ‘1GOlden
Hair,” of which this is the chorus:
“Ah! Flo. what a change you know.
“When she left the village she was shy,
"But alas and'alacki she's come back
‘ “With a naughty little twinkle in her eye!”
Yvette rendered the sense ofthis in
French, and said: ,.
“I did the naughty little twinkle of
the eye and gave them new bits of slang
such as ‘My Scott!’ They roared wi 11
laughter. I don’t know what it mean .
but it went down beautifully. They
laughed till the tears came.
“ ‘Golden Hair’ is a celebrated seng
in America—as celebrated as ‘Pere la
Victoire’ with us. It is the story of a
little girl with beautiful golden hair fall-
ing down her back who leaves hei'wil-
lage for a large town. She comes back
with her bar dyed and wearing a chig-
non. That seems to be nothing, but it
is full of observation and it is pathetic
in its drollery. -
“There are some American songs that
are really exquisite. Listen to this nig-
ger song. It has an ineifable charm
when the banjo is a strumming.
“I want yer. ma honey.
fi-‘Yes, I want yer every minute.
"I‘se a-longing fo‘ yer sadly.
"An’ nobody else is in it.
“As de bee de honey sips.
“Lemme kiss dem ruby lips,
“’Cause I want yer, ma honey. ,
“Yes, [ want yer, want yer, want yer."
Yvette Guilbert, who, by the way,
likes to make rhymes in her spare mo-
ments, has rendered this song into
French.
WH ERE SCIENTISTS ERR.
Temperature of the Earth Does Not Al-
ways Increase as They Say. '
Scientists, says a Calumet newspaper
correspondent, should make some ex-
ceptions when they claim that the in
ternal heat of the earth increases one
degree with every 51 feet descent from
the surface. Observations made in the
great Calumet and Hecla Mine show
that the temperature increases only one
degree in every 250 or 300 feet descent,
and. the increase is barely noticeable in
the bottom of the mine, except in some
shafts, and even then is not oppressive,
as is claimed. Were the scientists cor-
rect in their calculations, the temper-
ature at the bottom of No. 3 shaft, North
Tamarack, should show an increase of
over 88 degrees at its depth, 4,500 feet,
and the Red Jacket shaft of the Calu-
met and Hecla Mine at the bottom, 5,875
feet, would have an increase of over 95
degrees.
The exact temperature at the bottom
of the Red Jacket shaft when the drill-
ing machines are working is 78 degrees,
and when the machines are shut down,
and have remained shut down for
some time, the temperature does not
exceed‘ 81 degrees. True, there are
places in the Calumet and Hecla mines
where the thermometer registers 10.") de-
grees, and even 108 degrees, but this is
in the pump rooms at the eighth, six-
teenth, twenty-fourth and thirty-third
levels of N05. 4 and 5 shafts, and this
excessive heat is caused not by the in-
ternal heat of the earth, but by the big
four-inch steampipe which carries the
steam from the boiler house on the sur-
face to-‘the various pumps underground,
even to the very last ore in the line.
3,300 feet below the surface. '
A KANSAS ROMANCE.
How a DiplOmatlc Daughter Reunited
. Her Parents. .
A few years ago John and Emily
Harger were divorced at Garden City.
John went to Hugoton to live, and Em-
ily and their daughter Emily continued
to make their home at Garden City.
After a' while the daughter married
and went to Coolidge to live. Two
weeks ago John Berger started for
cripple Creek, . traveling by wagon. ,
He went by way of Coolidge to sue his
daughter, and there found his divorced
wife on' a visit. He Wanted to back
'out, but the daughter would not have
it that way. So there was a family re- .
union at dinner, and- afterward the two
who had been estranged were brought
together by the prattle of their grand-
son, a babe-just taking his first steps,
the daughter and her husband looking
on.
to cause a reconciliation. and dispatched
her husband fdr a marriage license,
while she herself went for a clergyman.
The license obtained and the‘ preacher
on the spot, the daughter said to her
parents:
“Here, you two are gettingpretty
thick. Igu‘ess you both see that you
we will marry you.”
So they were married, and the next
day John and Emily Harger, reunited,
drove away to Cripple Creek—Kansas
City Star. ‘
A New Bill-board Horror. .
The long-'sufiering public is threat-
ened with a new and, particularly hide-
ous phase of bill-board advertismg.
Some German of ,misguided gelling has
patented and is preparing to put on the
market‘in this country anew kind of
phosphorescent paint for use in letter-
irlg-allkindsof advertisements on city,
boardings' and ‘country Ifences'._'v The
letters 'show in CominOn black, white,
' or‘oth'er colors during the day, butat
night they shine with a smoky, lurid,
and altogether wierdbrilliancy. ‘ ' V ‘
.s
The daughter saw an opportunity!
Stand up, and
‘ “—5-.‘a
WHO "THE; ' _
Story of a New York. “Mdanest Man,” who
is o"! the 490. ‘
' I .We all know him. His name is in the
list of the “Four Hundred.” ’He is
prominent in church work. His wealth
is. counted by millions. Not .many
years ago his brother was at the head
of a great manufacturing establish-
‘inent, which he, had built up inthis.
city, and from which he .. derived an
enormous income.” Illness laid him
low, his doctors said he would die with-
‘iua week and\he sent for this “mean- -
est man.” - , ,
“Brother,” he said- “I'shall be dead
in a few days. I want to turn my props s
erty over to you. Take everything and .
do what good you can", in the world.”
So the business was given to the
“meanest man,” and preparations were
made for the funeral of the rich brother.
He, however, fooled the doctors and
got well. His first move was an at-
tempt to recover his property from his.
brother, but the latter held on, and has
held on ever since. He captured the
whole plant, and has it yet, and that
man who gave it to him on his death-
bed is' now- dependent on him for sup-
port—New York Press.
boll-TA RAILROAD ON FAITH.
What the Confidence of a Farmer Has
Done In Minnesota. .
Perhaps the most curious incident
growing out of opposition to railway
monopoly is found up in Minnesota,
and is described in ,the Chicago Times- .
Herald. A farmer named Hines, who
owned nothing in the world but a
quarter section Of mortgaged land and
a spavined team of horses, suddenly
concluded that the country was being
robbed by railroads, and that the farm:
ers must build a road of their own. He
started out. The farmers did not have
any money with which to subscribe for
stock, but they pledged so many days”
work on the road. Others made a gift
of the right of way. Still others went
into the woods and cut ties. Farmer
Hines was much‘ ridiculed when he
started his agricultural road, but he has
stuck manfully to his task, and now the
chances are the road will be actually
built. He has 150 miles of right of
way, pledges for the earthwork, and
ties enough to cover the line. The road
will run from Duluth west through the
Red River Valley into North Dakota,
opening up a new section of country.
This is what an American farmer with
a spavined team and faith in himself
can do when he sets about it.
An Expert Confounded.
The Butte Inter-Mountain tells a
good gold-dust story of George Wilson,
who owned the famous Paris mine in
Park county, Mont. Wilson was vise
ited by some . Englishmen one day,
among whom was an expert of the
English pattern—one who knew all
about mines and a great deal about
everything else, in his own Opinion.
"they wanted to see some of Wilson’s
gold, and he panned out some very fine
colors for their 'edification. “But that
Isnft gold,” pronounced the youthful
expert, after a critical examination.
“Me deah fellah, I am a graduate of
the English School of Mines, and I know
gold when I see it, you know. That is
iron.” Wilson didn’t say much. He
just leaned over and took the alleged
expert confidingly by the shoulder.
“Mebbe it isn’t,” he said, “but don’t go
and give it away to those fellows down
at the Denver mint, for I have been
selling the stuff to them for gold all
along.”
~--—\—
He Knew Their Flattery.
When the picture of the Russian
Grand Duchess Olga, Whom he later
married, was shown to the late King
Charles of Wurtemburg, he looked at
the portrait carefully- and then said,
dryly: “The portrait is highly flatter-
ing; the hair is too full. the eyes are too
brilliant and the skin too fresh.” “But,
your Majesty, you V do not know the
Princess,” answered the adjutant, who
had been ‘sent from St. Petersburg.
“N o, that is true,” said the King, “but
I know court painters.”—,New York
Tribune.
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to directions, 'to purify your blood, or
cure any of the many blood diseases, you
are morally certain to receive benefit. .
The power to cure is there. You are—not
trying an experiment. It will make your
blood- pure, rich and nourishing, and thus
drive out the germs of disease, strengthen
the nerves and build upthe whole system.
0 s
Sarsapari'll-a
Is the best, in fact — the One True Blood Purifier.
Prepared only by C. I. Hood _& (.70., Lo'well, Mass. . -
Do .not urge, pign. or.
Howl’s Pills ..
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A this building lot on ,Wilton ave- .
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Water, gas and sewer on the avenue.
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- _, _ . ,
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' " '_ - 5}
Furnace
' \ - _ ‘ \ +3
is builtso that it can be H “
Pltéced, 1n .4 low cellar, «0+.
and yet giVe plenty 0f .
l3}, . , g . _> \ [ma pitch to the pipes. The +2!
0+. ashpn Land grate are placed as 19Wd0Wn» as PbSSiblé-Fand _ t"
0" the heating surfaceis as compact as the best' 'r‘esultsr’will ' 9
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{'0'} You have heard about the cold rooms in some houses heated f
t: .4 by a furnace. Many times it is because the furnace is so
f3" “high that the pipes get'no pitch and do not conduct the
if: heat. VASk your lOcal dealer about this, or write us.
. : Barstow Stove Co.
FOI'INDRIES-Providence. R. l.
BOSTON OFFICE—56 Union St.
228 Water'St‘., New York"
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Norwalk Chronicler