The Cedarville Herald, Volume 12, Numbers 27-52

The CedarviUeHerald. w . H. DLAtsC PstUsSsr. CRDABVILLE ; t / ! ; * MY JEWELS. ■aw theyplewame with their loUlty end Jojr*. Bow they tease me. with their nonsense end , ^heir • ■» * ■otr ktnnse ih’owith their childlike plays sad' . prank* ■ . : . :#■ ■■• ,■ Bow annoy me .with their crochets ana their cranks. Bow, attimes. I blame andbless thorn. And in turn, ohide and caress them; How I scold them, and enfold thorn, Ahd Joylully behold them, At all times, in every season, With and without rhyme or reason; How they mystify and hold mo Insuspense at whst they’re,told mo; How wise, andwonderful, and deep, When their secrets they would keep; Those more than lively busy bodies, Fall of nlddles and of noddles; How my heud grows dull and dizzy, While they keep my'bands so busy, Witb demands in passing hours. On already burdened powers, . ■With lessons, books andbroken toys, (Damaged by some other boys,) Smooth palaver, earnest pleadings, For oversights and careless heedings Now w,th preaching, then.with.prattle, Sometimes only childish tattle. How they hurry me and flurry mo, And although I think they worry me, hey are ever-weloome visitants, en comfort giving mlnistrants: Ah, is there aught that rather One would be, than a grandfather. With a nest of one, two/three, E’on if four, flve, six there be, With their Jollity and Joys, And their nonsense and tholr noisnf •‘ These ore my jewels,” Cornelia said, and . these, Or such as these, are mine, too, if yon please. —Clark W, Bryan, in Good Housekeeping. A R O M A N C E TW O B R O T H E R S . BY EDGAR FAWCETT, AtrrnoB or “Tna C onfessions or C laud ,n ‘• aw A mbitious W oman ,” ‘ T ub EVJL . T hat M en do ,” “A N ew Y ork F amily ,” E tc . (Copyright, 18SX), By Edgar Fawcettl - CHAPTER v n .-C ontinued . * ‘ The world stood still with him while ho watched. Ho was no longer in the ■least agitated; ho simply felt himself tinder the spell of a mighty suspense, His new passion begot in him a hew hope. Would she wake at the summons of the drug? He intensely longed to have her do so, and with the increase of yearning came a diminution of doubt. Soon a fierce jOy shot through every fiber of hjs frame. She moved, ever so faintly, her Ups betrayed the slightest . of tremors, and yet one which there was no mistaking. Then she sighed, hoav- Uy, painfully; at the sounda greut com-, passion took hold of his heart-strings and wrung them till he feared that he might cry' aloud. liut his mouth re­ mained -firmly locked, and .in a minute more he'perceived that her features were twitching os if some inward tort­ ure racked her. When, with extreme abruptness, tier eyes unclosed, they darted forth wild, affrighted lusters. Consciousness hud come to her, and with It strong alarm. Sl"i raised her­ self slowly, shudderiugly. 1 ,om the level where she jay. It was tli n that Gerald sprang toward her. “ Don't be frightcue'-,." he said. “ You’re quite safe.” Ant he helped her to rise, wrapping cl< acr about'her shape the large loose rainment in which it had first beendud , She towered a little as she planted her foot on tho floor, repelting him in a childish, terri­ fied way with one.hund, while the‘other grasped her drapery just above the breast. “ Safe?" she now repeated, staring at him and still tottering. lie wheeled up An easy-ebair behind her, and. pushed backward by his gentle pressure, she sank Into \L “ Where am I?” she went on, her voice full of scared quavers, lie was about 4<*answerwith at least some semblance of accuracy, when she continued to speak, her wlige lingers grasping be- wildcredly the long, thick fallen strand o f tier hair “ I—I thought I had died,” she mur­ mured. “ 1thought—” Gerald dropped into a chair at her aide “ Tell me how yon came to do it!” he said. “ Remember, I’m your friend. •No matter whatmad#you do it, I’m pre­ pared to give you nothing but the most absolute sympathy,” . She look at him blankly, “ 1 don't understand yon.” “ Why, you said that yon thought you bad died.” “ Yea . . yea . , I said that,” “ And you tried, then, to kill your­ self?” “ To kill tnySclf!” she echoed, with a shiver. “Oh, no' And y e t . . Tell me!” she broke off, with wistful eagerness of mein apd gaze. “ Do you knme that I—I •ought to taka my own life?” While bar dark eyeadcvoured him bo replied with the utmost tenderness: “ 1 don’t know it, but I surmise It, When they brought you bare a little while ago they told me that you had been seen as you sprang into the river—thatsome one made the effort to saveyon and—” He paused, there. Ha shrank from pronouncing the word “ failed." It ap­ peared to him that she saw how he so shrank, and hem* ha w * a wholly un­ prepared for the helpless manner in Wbtsbuhs now shook bsr head, feebly fsHaring* . “ I don’t remember. It’s ell a—a va­ cancy, a nothingness, when I .seek to feoePest-** Gsrald leaned toward her with greet comPMslon in his looks. “ You recall your name, surely, da you not?” . 1 “My game, my name?” she answered, bowing her head. Sh e le tit stay thus for quite awhile,' then, lifting it, she burnt into tears. “ No, no,” she.cried; “ I can’t, even, remember my name. I -rrl only know that I’m here—that I Wasn’t happy and had horrible fancies, A long time ago, i mean. Oh, It seems like ages and ages ago!” SJhc fell backwards in the chair and her sobs, deep though not tumultuous, broke the stillness. » Then, a few seconds later, something else broke it as well. Gerald started up,-Crawford Clyde had quietly entered the room. Gerald went with him as much apart as possible. .They spoke In quick whispera. ' “ Clyde, Clyde, it has succeeded!” “ No, Gerald, you’re not in earnest?” “ Then I’ve never been.” “ My God, man! Andehe—” . “ They brought her in dead—rigid. She waB seen ‘to attempt suicide; they could not save her; they were too late. It happened up-town on the Bast s id e - off one of the wharves there. To look at her was to see death in her face. Then I applied the elixir. It literally summoned back her soul. There she is now. ' Look how piteously she’s cry­ ing. Her mind is yet wrapped in hazes, like some landscapes at earliest morn. She’s beautiful, very beautiful. I’ve” never seen a woman's face that so fas­ cinated me.” 1 Clyde had grown pale. He glanced keenly at the form of the woin'at^ seated some distance away. She had ceased to weep, but her face was full of heart-breaking woo. With the dork volumes of her raiment undulating from her bosom to the floor, she looked. like a .Magdalen painted by some artist of rare gift. “ Whatever, it all means,” Clyde now said, “ she must be aided at 'once.’’ He put his hand on Gerald's shoulder. “ You’re knocked over by this affair," he went on. “ Leave every thing to mo. There,” and lie forced his interlocutor into a near seat. “ Rest yourself a little.” Gerald obeyed him, and it now seemed to the young man’s own mind that he was on the verge o f swooning away. The room appeared to fill with a whitish mist. Through it he presently saw the dull, fattisli, .genteel visage of his land­ lady. Was there ever such astupid face, he thought, os that of this poor Mrs, Brawne? Clyde spoke with her, did ho not? Yes; some of tho words came to Gerald’s ears like those ghosts of words we call echos. His friend was talking about her. Were he and Mrs. Brawne taking her away? Well, at least they were leading her from the room, sup­ porting her between them. Therewith, Gerald yielded to the lan­ guor which overcame Him. He dimly realized that it was caused by reaction after the strain he had endured. He had no iden bow long a time passed be­ fore Clyde again stood near him. “ She's all right for the present, my boy. That landlady of yours is very accommodating, and I don't tainic she has intelligence enough to feel in tho least scandalized by—But Gerald! Look here, now; what's the matter? Why, you're in a cold sweat! You’re HI.” “ 1—I wns,” returned Gerald, trying to smile. He felt Clyde's fingers at his pulse. “ You must have a stimulant; l think that’s nil you need. It’s only excite­ ment. Have you any thing to drink here?” “ Yes,'* breathed Gerald. “Yonder there’s brandy. But I'm getting better, now. It’s passing over,” “ /Ait?” Said Clyde shortly. “ We’ll lwlpit topass quicker.” Howent to the spot toward which a weak gesture of hla companion hod pointed, Suddenly Gerald heard a crashing sound. One keen ray of recollection here shot through his mind. IIo rose grasping the back of Ms chair. “ Clyde,” he called, “ what have you broken?” a “ A bottle o f some sort,” camo the answer, “ It was horribly awkward of me, I know; but I dare say the thing only held some chemical you no longer needed,” Gerald hurried across the room, beset By an ttgly doubt which actedclcarlngly on his already brightened brain. He taw certain glass fragments lying on the floor, and picked one o f them up. “Ah,” lie faltered, “ it was the flask that contained the elixir!” “ Toobndl” exclaimed Clyde. “ Please forgive me, Gerald.” “ “Oh, I do, of course!” came the re- ply. “ It was an accident, I know.” “ Dear fellow, I’ll swear to you it was only that! You don’t—yon can’t sus­ pect—” - “Mo, no.” , “ The light’s a little dim over in this corner; My elbow struck the thing be­ fore I knew- But nerer mind, you’ve got the formula yet, though it did cost you such a lot of labor to secure just this little amount o f liquid.” “ Oh, y e s ,, I've the formula,” mur­ mured Gerald in dreamy tones. “ Be­ sides, I don’t care so much now.” He was thinking of the woman whom he hod resurrected from death, Clyde’s voice again sounded, crisp and resonant, “ Ahl here’s the stuff I was after. Now, Gerald, you must take a big swallow of it. You’re infernally played out by this whole proceeding and you need a good, long sleep to pull you round again. There . . sit down once more. We must get you to bed presently, and if this commonplace dose doesn’t quiet you we’ll try some­ thing a Uttle more scientific.” CHAPTER VIII. Toward evening of the next day Syl­ van Maynard begau to wonder at his brother’s absence. Gerald was so apt to drop in of a morning; what meant this failure to. present himself? True, his late visits bad been brief, and his HE AT OSCE WENT EIOWN-STAIKS AND IlB- CErVEDtIF.il. .- manner while malting them had seemed preoccupied, abnormal.' But he had al­ ways come; he had always evinced a desire to come, and a warm feeling for the sorrow and sickness by which his nearest kinsman was crushed. Sylvan hadnow recovered from his sec­ ond dismal attack and begun to accept the gray despondency of the life which Lucia’s desertion had wrought for him. A certain indignation against her had indeed nerved him like a sort of tonic. She had wronged him infinitely;, lie meant to try and tear from his heart all craving to look upon her again. Her flight had been a confession of antipa­ thy—of past hypocrisy as well. They needed him at his office <’ wre-town. lie would make an effort, very soon, and go there. As "fbl the slightest further search -no! He could not force her to come back and live, with him, and the self-humiliation of publicly seeking her only to meet repulsion nft- erwnrd would but increase the burden he now bore. And yet, whither on the fiice of tlio earth hud .' he fled? This question, lio well saw, must ceaselessly vex him, like a 'pebble in one’s boot-sole. 1What conceivable means of livelihood had she found? .Must not her anut Junpt have certainly duped him, lied to him? Ills indignation strengthened as lie grew more and more convinced that this was true. Three or four days went by, and still Gerald failed to appear. He was now convalescent; be thought of leaving the house on the morrow, and Instead of at once going to bis office be had resolved first to call upon liis brother. Somewhat late in the afternoon of the day when tins resolve was formed, a servant handed him the Card of his wife’s aunt, Mrs. Calderly. He at once went doVvn-stairs and re­ ceived her. The moment they met she gave a little moan and lifted both hands, immediately afterward, and while they were, seating themselves, he observed that she looked sallower than ever and that the eye which had no cross in, it was full of distress. Her first words confirmed this impression. ' “ I have come to you, Svlvan," she said, “ in ..a veiy miserable frame of mind. Mease pardon my—my surprise at your appearance. But I wasn’t pre­ pared to find you looking so bail.” “ I’ve been quite ill,” he said, curtly, “ but am getting on now. pray, wlmt is yotlr own trouble?" . •. . lie could not resist lidding: “ Has sortie one of your brave army of free-thinkers been deserting your rationalistic banner?” She astonished him by taking no no­ tice of his Satire. “ I’m glad you’re well enough to see me,” she said. ‘ Tve something Vastly important to tall you. It lms been getting me into a dreadful state. 1 hope it—it will not affect you in the same Way.” “ Affect me?" Sylvan muttered. HU brow clouded. “ Ah!” he exclaimed, “ it’s about my Wife! You’re heard from her—or perhaps you knew all along just where she was,” s Mrs. Calderly clasped her hands to­ gether. “ 1 did know! I did know! She was there with me whan you camo to inquire about her.” “St* was in your hansel A**so ywa. , “ I told you mfalsohood. Yes, I admit that I did!" Sylvan’s eyes glittered and his lip earled. “ This is tho sort o f conscionse,” ha sneered, .(“ that you find permitted to you by this noble prepepta o f your be- loved philosophers—by Kant andComte, by Spencer and Huxley! Ahl madam, forgive mo if I venture to prefer the poor wisdom of the Ten Command­ ments!” < | ' “ You’re horribly severe,” she replied, in a voice that seemed like the quiver of her thin Ups translated into sound. “ Yon never liked roe, and now I’ve that to contend with at a time when every word I must say will help to make you hate me all the harder! Lucia was in a wretched state--she was a veiy ill woman indeed—when she came to my house. She pleaded of roe not to let you know she had found refuge under my roof. That’s what she caUed it—finding * refuge under my roof.” “ And you didn’t exactly detest the phrase, either. I can quite understand that you didn’t. Please go on; Mrs. Calderly.” “ For a great while she seemed to me on the verge of complete prostration. I believed her mind was going,' and yet, now and then, she would act with such, entire sanity that I again strongly doubted it. She would never leave the two. little rooms, mine and hers, which were connected by a door. Sometimes she would pace the floors of both for.an hour and more, with her hands clasped and her face the picture of despair. She would never tell me just what it was you had done to her. She would merely shake her head and promise me, in trembling tones,'that she wpuld make it all plain by and by.” •. “ And meanwhile,” said Sylvan, with hueless face ami. a voice full of irony,, “ you. were very willing to take on trust any evil tidings regarding my treatment of her. But once more pardon me. I interrupt you too much.” . “Oh,” cried Mrs. Cajderly, “ you make my task bitterer than it is! You heap horrid reproaches on me by your sar­ casms. I pitied Lucia—that was all. I meant to advise her returning to you as soon os her mind got back its lost bal­ ance. She refused, with great ob­ stinacy, to see a doctor. Then she fell into a brooding state, and I grew still more alarmed, dreading the melan­ choly form of madness. This was not long ago. One day she suddenly grew violent, and talked of you, with a flask of white liquid, waiting somewhere either to pour it down her throat or in- ’ ject ft into her blood, and s o ‘poison her." “ Ah!” gasped Sylvan. Ho rose, and his pale face seemed to. grow ■paler, while aslight, hollow cough caught him, one which liis dead mother, had she heard it, might,have likened to an echo of Ms dead father’s. “What more, please—what more?” “ The doctor whom I called in couldn’t quite grasp her case, he said. She hod grown quieter by the time he saw her. She had yielded to my persuasions and my servant’s, and had let us put- her to bed. The doctor gavo her some sort of soothing medicine,'and left her. That night I wns very nervous andhardly slept awink. The next day she seemed a good deal better until afternoon, when she began to have the same hallucination about you, and ,begged me to lock the doors of the bedroom and put tbo keys in my pocket. Byt 1bad no sooner done this than she began to shake With fear that you might be hidden somewhere in the room itself, with the flask o f white poison—it was always the flask o f white poison. . . . 1 obeyed this second fit of mania. She had never been at all violent that day, and later, whim the doctor came, she produced in both Mm and myself the belief that she was now truly on the verge of a marked change for the better. He encouraged me, and said he had given her somctliing to make her pass a tranquil night. (Oh, I’ve never felt till now, with ail my re­ spect for tho wonders o f science^ what guess-work, what empiricism, is the craft o f all physicians, and how there’s nothing certain about them except When they’re surgeons, though surgery 'may kill as often as It cures!) . < , By eight o’clock that evening—last Wednesday evening. It Was—sbs had fallen into a very placid sleep, I was dreadfully tired, and lay down in my own room, so near here that 1 believed the least call from her could wake me. But 1must have slept veiy heavily in­ deed, and 1certainly slept much longer than I had expected. When, with a guilty kind o f start, t wakened, my first impulse waqto seek her room.” ( to ax ootaTDresa.] PERSONAL. ANP IMPERSONAL. —A ninety-three-year-old man is Mystic, Conn., has keen climbing into his apple trees and gathering the fruit as though be were only twenty. —In Mississippi recently three inter­ esting events happened on one evening in a family; An old lady and her hus­ band celebrated their golden wedding, a daughter and son-in-law their silver wedding and a granddaughter her wedding." —A recent visitor to the tombs of Presidents Monroe an,fl Tyler, in Holly­ wood cemetery, Richmond, Va , says that the grave of Tyler is unmarked by Stone or monument and that ho could find no ‘inscription of any kind on the small chapel-like structure over the re­ mains o f Monroe. —The czar of Russia says that rather than not see his pet scheme, the Trans- Siberian railroad completed in three years from lack o f funds he would ad­ vance the needed money—SX7,500,000- out o f his private nurse. He can do it; he has, it Is said, $50,000,000 always iu bank in ready money. • . —On the grave o f the late l&r. W. II Gladstone, son of the premier, has been erected a plain white marble cross with three bases, bearing the in­ scription: “ Thou wilt keep him in per­ fect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee. William Henry Gladstone; born' June 8, 1840; passed away July 6, 1891.’’ —The duke of Cumberland, eldest son o f .the last king, o f Hanover, is the possessor of no less than nine tons of gold and silver plate, while the plate of the house of Orange at Tne Hague, in­ cluding two thousand splicLsilver-din- ner plates, has an estimated value of. §0;5OO,OOO. The plate used by Queen Victoria during the visit of tlio emperor of Germany is said to be worth $10,- 000,000. S —The coolness of tho Austrian em­ peror the other day, when be heard of the dynamite outrage, in saying: “ If a bridge be blown up we shall have to get out and walk,” reminds the Pall Mall Gazette of Sir Tnomas More’s sang froid when liis head was on the block.' As the fatal stroke was about to fall he signed for a moment’s do1.ay while he moved aside his beard. “ Pity that should be cut,” he murmured, .“ that lias not committed treason.” —Frau Clara Ruge has just, finished in New York city a characteristic por­ trait of Christobel Rojas, the young South American artist whose romantic ■career has touched so raauy- hearts. His picture of tlio' “ Purgatorio" re­ ceived the gold medal from the Paris Salon. ■lie had gone home' to Venezuela to die, and on the heights of the mountain near Caracas lie met the son of the distinguished German patriot Arnold Ruge, who with his artistic wife often went sketching amid the beautiful scenery. ■ . “ A L IT TL E NONSENSE.” —“ Mrs. Garrill fell down stairs and bit-hor tongue in two.” Poor Garrill! If that woman lias two tongues, Heaven knows what will become of him. —He—“ Do yon know anything about your ancestors?” She—“ Yes, every­ thing. . He—“ Then you have a family tree?” She—“Oh, no! I have a brother running for office.”—Elmira Gazette. —“ She was a good girl,” said Mrs. Dc- Kadenz, “ and not only understood her duties, but knew her place. I had to let her go, though. I have been study­ ing Fido'fi character rather closely, and I really-believe that blondes are dis­ tasteful to the dear angel”—Indianap­ olis Journal. *• ] , —“ Say, Harry,” said one small boy to another, “ they’s people in tho inoon.” “No, they hain’ t ” “ Yes, they .is; my. pa said so.” .“ How does your pa know? He was never in tho moon.” “ No, but he's out every night and sees lota I guess he knows more’n us.”— St Lonts Republic. —“ Why. Charley! whatan awful cold you've got!” “ Yes, Maud, it is a bad one.” “ How did you catch it?” “ Well, weVc been having flannel cakes every morning, and----- ” “ Yea” “ Thismorn­ ing we switched over on to buck wheat Bad Reason to change from flanucla”— Philadelphia Press. '• —What tho Preaching is For,—There is a story that some children had a dis­ cussion concerning the services in one of our fashionable temples. One youngster who had readied the mature ago of seven, said: “ l*d just like to know what preaching is for.” “Oh, don’t yOu know?” inquired his five-year- old sister; it’s to give tho singers a rest, of course.”—Hebrew Standard. —Groom (to bride, as they arrive at their flrststopplng place, after tho cere­ mony)—“ Now, Laura, darling, don’t let these people know we .have just been tnarried.” Cleyk (as groom finishes registering)—“ Frtrot! Show this gen­ tleman and Ms wife No. 49—bridal chamber.” (To porter)—“ To.n, take the gentleman’s hat and brush the rice from the brim. Detnorest’s Magazine. —“Brown, do you know why you are like a donkey?” “ Like a donkey?” echoed Brown, opening wide Ms eyes. “No, I don’t ” “ Do you give it up?” *1 do,” “Because your better half is stubbornness itself." “That’s not bad. Ha! hat I’ll give that to my wife when' I get home.” “Mrs. Brpwn,” he asked, as he sat down to supper, 'Mo you know why I am so much like s donkey?” He waited A moment ex­ pecting his wife to giro It up. She looked at him somewhat eommiserat- lngly ee she answered: “ I suppose be­ cause you were horn so,”— ilorreheads Baaoo. ■ .