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Show wen a I don't know how the secret oozed BLONDIN THE WONDER good many visitors staying In the house, but they were mostly in out, but before another day had passed families or parties, and we did not every one in the house knew that the at handsome English major had met an CELEBRATED TIGHT ROPE mingle with them. Our table was a tall gentleman of soldierly old love In the person of the gentle WALKER DIED THE OTHER DAY. vls-a-v- ls appearance, who was always spoken of as the major. When he ventured to address an order to the waiting maids in French, the difficulties he got into were dreadful, and he always ended by gettnlg angry with himself and them. I ventured to help him out of a difficulty once or twice, and in this manner a slight acquaintance sprung up between us. It had, however, gone no farther than a friendly nod or a remark across the dinner table. With other visitors he fraternized even less. So matters stood until the night at Easter Sunday came, when we went to the English church In an adjoinWe were ushered into one Btieet. ing of the pews appropriated for strangers and a minute or two later the major was shown into the same pew and sat down beside us. During the service the major, by an accidental movement of his arm, threw down aunties little red prayer book. He picked it up, and was about to replace it, but as he held It In full view under the gas, his eyes chanced to fall upon It, and be started as though he had seen a ghost, lie laid the book down, but he glanced from it to Aunt Hetty, aB if trying to satisfy himself on some point. The sermon came to an end, and the benediction followed, but I fear the major had no part In it He took advantage of the moment when all beads were bowed to do a very unmannerly thing. He slyly put up his eyeglasses and read the name inside auntie's book. It was quickly done, and might have escaped him closely. I notice, but could even read the name myself. It was In a bold, manly hand: To Hester; June 28, 18. I was aghast at euch an act of impertinence, and glanced at auntie to see If she would resent it; but she had probably not noticed It, for she made no sign. The congregation began to disperse, and we went out, but we were scarce- - li'e AN EASTER ROMANCE. (By Alice Chaiemore.) UNT HETTY l f wu twenty - six pi only Li when I came to her. live with a VJ was There only i difference of two years between us, but somehow she seemed always to me, middle-age-d she was so quiet and serious and so different from my restless, excited self. She was so sad at times that 1 could cot help wondering If some time In her life she had not experienced some serious sorrow, for she had means and friends enough to make her life worth living, and should have been happy. One day I found her weeping quietly with a little red book In her hand. I endeavored to calm her, to find out the reason for her sorrow, and then ehe told me this story: It happened when I was only eighteen. I was engaged to be married. My lover was four years older than myself; he was a mate of a ship, and a fine, dashing young fellow named Edward Blake. We had been engaged six months and were to be married a month later. The day was fixed, and Edward had arranged to give up the sea and take a situation on land. We were as happy as two young people could possibly be; but, unluckily. Just a month before the time fixed for our wedding day, a picnic was gotten up by some of our friends, and Edward and I were of the party. There was a handsome young fellow there named Percy Sandys, the son of a neighboring clergyman. He was fresh from col lege, and full of fun and frolic, chanced to be placed next to him at luncheon, and not knowing, as I aft' erward discovered, that I was engaged, he was specially attentive to me. I did not care for his attentions in the least, but I was In high spirits and only bent on the enjoyment of the moment, and I did not check him as, perhaps, I ought to have done. Presently, I caught sight of Edwards face, and saw that he was looking terribly' cross and angry. Foolishly I thought it rather good fun to make him Jealous, and, on purpose to tease him, I pretended to take all the more notice of Mr. Sandya When we finished luncheon the party scattered and strolled about the woods in various directions. I naturally expected Edward to accompany me, but he rather rudely, as 1 thought, held aloof, and, to punish him, I paired off with Mr. Sandya When the party got together again Edward looked so savage that thought it belter not to provoke him ary1 further.off Mr. shook Sandys, and, walking away with Edward, began to scold him for his unreasonable Jealousy. Of course, I did not think I myself was In fault; nobody ever does. A loving word would have made me penitent directly. Unfortunately, he was white with anger, and began to reproach me in a way that roused my temper, too, for I was quick enough to take offence in those days, Ruth, though have learned better since. I can remember, as if It were yesterday, the nook in the woods where we stood, the sunshine glinting through the trees and lighting up Edward's flushed face and angry eyes. He reproached me bitterly more bitterly, I think, than J deserved. He called me a heartless coquette, and I called him llttle-mln-d d and told him he had made himself ridiculous by his unreasonable Jealousy. We got hotter and hotter, and finally he declared that if I did not admit that li had been wrong, and promise to behave differently for the future, all must he over between us. I l) did not care a straw for Mr. Sandys, and would fifty times sooner have Lad Edward with me, but I would have died sooner than have told him so then. So I gave him a bitter answer, and we both grew angrier still. His last words, uttered with all the intensity of passion, ring still in my ears. I can tell you them word for word: Hetty, if you let me go now, understand clearly you will never see my face again.' 1 did not quite believe him. Perhaps if 1 had 1 should still have let him go. At any rate, I was far too angry to give way then. Go, by all moans, if you wish it,' I said, and In another moment he was gone. 1 had been tearing to pieces, in my passion, a little spray of hawthorne he had given me earlier in the day. I had pulled off the leaves one by one, and when he left me the bare stem was left in my hand, with one leaf only remaining. See, here it is, the last relic of my first and last love. God grant that In your whole life, my Ruth, you may never weep such tears as I have wept over that one faded leAt. She opened the little red prayer book in her lap and showed me, hidden in a tissue paper pocket, the yellow hawthorne leaf. "This little book, she said, was Edward's gift to me, and this old dry leaf is my only relic of the day when we parted in the wood, never to meet again in this world. Stay, 1 have one more treasure, see! She drew from her bosom a quaint old locket and put It In my hand. It was a miniature painting representing a young man in an naval costume. It was a handsome face, but stern and and I could very well believe that the original would have behaved as Aunt Hetty had described. But did you really part like that, auntie? I said. Did you never see him again? Never. He did not go back to the picnic party, but joined an outward-boun- d ship the next day, leaving brief note for my mother, stating that we had fortunately found out in time that we were uneulted to each other, and had, therefore, by mutual consent, put an end to our engagement "But that was very cruel, auntie. I thought so then. Perhaps it was a little; but afterward I blamed myself far more than him. I had given the provocation; and I knew in my heart of hearts that one word of regret on my part would have made all right between us. But I was too proud to say it I let him go with my eyes opened, and I have been Justly punished. But have you never heard from him since, dear auntie? Once or twice, but only indirectly. little lady with the sweet smile and the soft gray hair, and that after a separation of eight years they were engaged to be married, and they were accordingly promoted to all the privileges of engaged lovers. I must pass over the homeward journey and the astonishment of our friends at Fairfield when auntie returned engaged to be married. Some few of them had known Major Blake, but to most of them be was a stranger. Many were the questions and explanations before everything was accounted for to everybodys satisfaction; but It was done at last. And then came the preparation of the trousseau; and at last the happy pair have been made one, and auntie is off to the Isle of Wight to spend her honeymoon. Before going she called me to her room and said: Ruth, dear, I am going to give you this little red prayer book as a parting remembrance. You know how I hare treasured it, and you won't value It the less, 1 am sure, for having been so dear to me. And If, when Mr. Right comes, Ruth, you are tempted to be willful or wayward, or to pain a heart that loves you truly, think of your Aunt Hetty, and the faded leaf, for not every mistake in life ends as mine did on Easter Day." GO, He had no relatives in our part of the country. I know that he gave up the sea and obtained a commission In some Indiana regiment. When last heard of him he was a captain; hut that la many years ago, and I do not know whether he Is alive or dead. So ends my poor little romance. There is one thing I should like to ask, Ruth and that is partly why I have told you my story. You have seen my relics. They have been my greatest treasure in life, and I should like them put In my coffin when 1 die. Will you remem- ber this, dear? I could not answer for tears, but kissed her hand and she was content. Two months ago, tired of our hum drum country life, auntie and I resolved to visit foreign parts. Accord' lngly, we went to Boulogne and took up our abode In a quiet- boarding Thera house in the Rue dee - Vlt-lllard- Oh, the glory And the sweetness Of the story! Light from darkness, Joy from sadness Ring, oh, ring. Ye bells, with gladness: Ring, and send out Cheerful greeting; Notes from other meeting, Till the whole world. Filled with wonder. Sees the clouds All rent asunder. Easter beauties! IIow they cluster! Lending fragrance To their luster. Emerald verdure. Buds and flowers. Hidden deep Through Lenten hours! g, IF YOU WISH IT." (By Mra M. A. Kidder.) Earter dawning! Joy-bel- ls ed proud-lookln- EASTER. MORNING. Easter lilies Will You Tell Me How You Came by You Use? the Red Prayer-boo-k Iy in the street when the major spoke to auntie. Madam, I am going to ask you a very singular question, but let me assure you that I have a deep personal Interest in askli g it. Will you tell me how you came by that red prayer-boo- k you use? I shall never forget auntie's answer, but I could tell by the faint flush on her usually pale face how deeply she was moved. You gave it to me, yourself. Major Blake, years ago. Surprise, slight and incredulity struggled for the mastery In the majors face. He took off his hat and stood and that one little gesture told more .plainly than the most passionate protestations could have done, that the old love had been kept a treasured and sacred thing. I think, from the smile on her mouth, as she looked at him, that the same thought came to auntie. And you are Hetty! Yes, I know you now, he said. You had forgotten the eight years, Major Blake. I knew you 'from the first." And would you really have let me go without a word? Why not? How could I know you would wish to be reminded of old times? Reminded ! I have never forgotten. I tried my hardest to forget and couldnt Although you preferred another "Another! What other? Didnt you marry young Sandys? I have never seen him since. At this stage of the conversation it struck me that I was de trap. Major Blake, side by side with auntie, was homeward, and on walking slowly reaching a convenient street corner, I went off for a stroll in an opposite direction. When I reached home I found auntie and the Major sitting in the courtyard under the trees. The Major lifted his hat at my approach and said: Miss Danvers, your aunt and I are very old friends; indeed, many years ago we were engaged to be married, but an unfortunate misunderstanding separated us. We have lust many happy years, but I hope some still remain to us. I trust we shall have your good wishes." I looked from one to the other. You dear, darling auntie, then you really are going to be married after all? Of course I wish you joy, and Major Blake too, from the very bottom of my heart! qulck-ly-glv- 1 bare-heade- d, en Smiling xalntly. Tall and slender. Sweet and saintly; e flocks By nature molded. Seem they, meek And all unfolded! Srow-whlt- Easter music Sing, ye dear ones. Lift your voices. Far and near ones, A Sketch of Ilia Ufa Tho Pint Mn -- tho Niagara Rlvor, Over tho Othov rails, oa a Tight Hop Wonda rial Peats. to CroM (1 root FRANCIS EAN better Gravelet, known as Blondin, celebrated the walker, rope tight who was the first to cross person Niagara Falls on a tight rope, which feat he performed on June 30, 1859, died from diabetes the other day at his home In South Ealing, a suburb of London. Blondln was born near Calais, in France, in 1824, which made him 73 years of age. His nickname he derived from his father, who waa called "Blondin' on account of the color of jiis hair. He commenced rope walking when he was four years of age and four years later gave an exhibition before the king of Italy. In 1855 he came to Amorlra, and when at Niagara Falls the Idea struck him of crossing on a rope. It was not until 1859 that ha attempted the feat He once performed at the Zoological Gardens, Liverpool. He had given an afternoon performance there, and waa to perfurm again in the evening. During the interval between the performances some one suggested playfully that It would be a line thing for him to 'take a lion across. Capital idea, thought Blondin. So he Indicated to the management his readiness to wheel across any lion they liked to send up ito him. The Hon chosen was eighteen months old. and was known as Tom The performance was In the Sayers. open air, and It was Just getting dark when the Hon was slung up and strapped to the barrow. A pretty stiff gale was blowing. The rope sagged a good deal, too, bo that there was a steep decline from each mast. It was, therefore deemed advisable that some control should be kept over the barrow and its strange freight from the platform, in case Blondin might not be able to prevent it from running away with him down hill. So a line was attached to the barrow to keep It Iff check, and the end of this was retained by an attendant on the platform at the masthead. On walked Blondin, trundling his load before him, which must have been duubly difficult owing to his hands being fully engaged steadying himself some with his pole, when, through stupid bungling on the part of the individual who had charge of the line, the latter let it slip out of his hands. An exclamation of horror and surprise rang through the assembled masses, who, on this occasion, were said to number 100,000. The excitement now berame intense, and those who had taken up positions immediately under the rope or hawser betook themselves I Men and maidens Join the chorus, Joy and gladness Should reign oer u Little children Sing In gladness. For your young hearts Know no sadness; Not a sorrow Dims your morning, Yet you love The Easter dawning. Easter dawning! Oh! the glory And the sweetness Of the story! Light from darkness, Joy from sadness Ring, oh, ring. Ye 1m '.!s, with gladness! 11 ad a Lung Nap. CLONU1N. A chick who had just learned to creep Came out of its shell and said: Tecp! It is good, I declare, To breathe the fresh air. I must have had a long sleep. niter to tho I'ufnrtunoto. To those who have Bmall satisfaction In this life, whose conditions ars those of misery or of dull vacuity, to whom life Is a sad mistake and an Injustice if It Is not to give them further opportunity, fuller expression, larger ompeiwatlon. the day. if it has any significance at all, stands as the pledge of existence under other conditions, here their cramped and hindered can perhaps have fuller seope they have at least ibe hope of that -- George William Curtis. F. - There is something wrong with tht mau who goes home from church mad the preaching is aimed the face ol sin. at sf uoftly to less dangerous places, as f very one anticipated that the hero of this story would lie precipitated, together with his comrade in danger, to mother earth. Tlie win elbarrow. deprived of its check, hurried onward at a terrific pure, down, down tin1 Incline of rope with frightful rapidity. Tito line that had been let go became entangled In the topmost branches of some trees. whLhrr it had fallen. The worst fears were now entertain! (1. ns it appeared evident that on the line becoming taut Blondin would lie eitlur Jerked off the hawser or prevented from reaching his opposite masthead. The excitement at this stage was painful in the extreme, every one licing ns silent as the grave, th destruction of this daring fellow being apparent and Inevitable. Blondin. however, remnln- 'nK motionless for a short time, like a in ,hP dements, began lo move K'wl.v backwards: che.cr after cheer frf,m ,1P va,,t concourse at this movement, and a feeling of relief d tied "Pn B. ant Kave place to miration at the splendid style in which be completed his extremely difficult backward Journey. After a brief rest Blondin set out again with Tom Sayers, snd acrompllslied the feat he had dertaken without a hitch, set-powad-sn- j I |