| OCR Text |
Show j fold with Louis XVI! "Who was M. Lnfltto? Well, lie v.-a-r a Frenchman who once took lodgiaY oh the upper floor of this houe, nn cl.' ramshackle affair now, bwt once a mansion., man-sion., as you can w, and as fashionable a street as there was in London." "So I have heard," I assented. "The Frenchman," he con-tinned, "was a man somewhere about CO years of age, tall and stiff in his bearing-; and though his clothes were worn and shabby-look in, his linen, I noticed, was neat and tidy, and as white as snow." " 'Bloomsbury,' said he, when I had showed him the room I'm the caretaker care-taker of the building1, you see, sir 4ees a a respectable quataire of the city, fine one. "High and low we searched for it, in every crack and corner. The betiding, the old rug, everything was Fhook out. " 'Twas no use, though, and finally we give it up; and what was worse, of course the poor gentlcma.n had to make it up. It was tough, I can tell you, for at the best of times they only about made ends meet. "I thought of ma'm'sclle's voice, rare enough to bring a guinea for every note, but thanks to that aristocrat whose head had tumbled on the same plank with Louis XVI.'s, I daren't mention men-tion it. "But," with a flourish of his hammer, ham-mer, "ma'm'selle's voice did make their fortin sir, after all, though in a way The New School Building is progressing very favorably. Sprint; weather is Hourly here, j ami buds are bursting forth pro-ifusely. pro-ifusely. Noble Warrum Jr. has launched a new sheet in Salt Lake City entitled The Bee, which truly deserves s ic-cess. ic-cess. It Is 16 pages, weekly, $2 per year. The little girl of Mrs. R G. ilc-Quairie, ilc-Quairie, who hnd her hand cut, is j progressing finely, and Dr. Hig-ginft Hig-ginft thinks h r hand will not have to lift nmnnfntfl ees it not so, MeesteT Concierge?' " 'More than respectable, xnossoo, said I, a trifle tartly. 'It was once a fashionable part of London.' j "lie sighed as he looked about the room. " Eet will do, Meester Con-cierge' he would always call me that, sir, though I told him time and again it wasn't my name 'eet will do for the praisant,' with a flourish of his while hand, as though the next month would find him in Park Lane; and so he engaged en-gaged the room, ajid paid for it in advance. ad-vance. "In a few hours they moved in him, . his sick wife, his daughter. Mile. Justine Jus-tine arid Polly, as cunning a parrot as you d little think. "The days were getting short now," he continued, "and what with the prospect of winter before 'em, and tho diamond not half paid for, and the old : lady moan in and cry in to go back to, Faree, ma'm'selle began to lose heart, j Twas- seldom she sung a note now,! but one day, just as the sun was about to set, her voice came floating down to me in a song I shall never forget. "'Madre d'amor! Odi tu il mio dolor do-lor P " "Schubert's Prnyer to the Virgin,' I said, smiling- a little ns the old man stumbled through the words. "The same," he assented "so rna'm-selle rna'm-selle told me afterward, when she writ I down the words for me. Ah, sir, her Yi editor has been in th.3 field the ast week cleaning out' ditch, and, oh! how his arms nnd shoulders should-ers ache! It is not near as eay ns sticking type! But wo thii k practice pra-ctice will make ns perfect if v e will only stay w th it. R. E. Clark of Pioche, Nevada, and W. J . Dooley of DeLamar, Nevada, Ne-vada, made us a pleasant call during the week. They are on their way way to Arizona and were pleased that the delay on their trip occurred I at St. George for they say they like the place. We are of the opinio 1 from the manner in which the young men have been dash ng a o md that some of the belles of St, George are quite an attractio.i. voice brought me to my knees; least-1 ways," he corrected, "that's the way I ! felt like doing. " 'Madre d'amor! Odi tu il moi dolor! do-lor! "Ma'm'selle's voice broke at the end, as though she wn sobbHo. nid a young man who had stopped on the ravemenit to listen, reprpMly took off his hat. " 'Heavenly!' I heard hi -rw: then catching sight of me throurh the window, win-dow, he put it on again and entered the shor. "There vps ro heatir.f about the bush with that young man, and. somehow. some-how. I liked him for it. '"Who is the singer?' he asked at once. " 'Little French girl,' says I, 'named Mile. Justine. "'Justine what?' "Purty? Well, I don't know. Fcr a foreigner ma'm'selle might hev been i called purty. She was a slight little ! thing, with great tyg eyes, and long ; eyelashes throwing deep shadders into 'em like grasses into a brook." ' lie cleared his throat and spread his hands, as though the matter of looks .vas of no consequence. "But, Lord!" he exclaimed with sudden sud-den animation, "how she could sing! (jay songs, too, in French and Eye-talian, Eye-talian, with sometimes an. English ballad bal-lad or so. Why, sir," giving the boot a tremendous whack, "there was a fort in' in her voice, a fortin' as big as Pa.ttiV, and only for the fact of that precious ancestor of hers a-losin' of his head on the scaffold with Louis XVI. she'd a made it, too, as easy as that!" giving the boot another whack. I THE COBBLER'S STORY, t J By U Bertram. J TOM DEVINE, the cobbler, pushed up' his spectacles and gave xne a whimsical glance. "It's cur'us," he remarked, "it's cu-r'us cu-r'us what a difference it makes to a main's fam'ly how he is put out of the world! Hang him, and his folks feel disgraced f oreyer; cut off his head with a guillotine, and " The old man made a flourish with his head, as though the matter were one for serious congratulation. "Leastways," he added, returning to his mending again, "that's the way some folks think. Lord! how set up M. Lafitte wtis about it, to be sure, and all on account of an ancestor of his who happened to lose his head on the scaf "'Lafllte. " 'Lafitte, he repented, us though the name seemed familiar to him somehow. How old is she?' " 'About 17, says I, making a rough guess. "The front door clanged to just at that minuteand a light footstep was heard. "I peeped out. "There she is now,' says I, 'Mile. Justice Jus-tice herself.' "Like a fhet be was out of the shop, but in a few minutes returned. " 'Exou?'?.' !v said, his voice trembling trem-bling a KttV. 'Per face is as exquisite as her voice.' "Well, to make m lonr- ptorv fhoH." broke off the obbler. "that yomv? m.n'i had fallen desperately in love with ma'm'selle. but how to make her p-qua.ir-tanee was a problem tha wp troubling bin. "'Ef yo.i was only poor, row,' saj's I, 'you might gi t a chance, but. ' "The youny man did not wait for me to finish. To be m . "But the mossoo! How stiff he did draw himself up, to be sure, at the; very mention of it. "Understand me," the cobbler explained, ex-plained, "it wasn't out of any oflicicur. meddlecomeness that I first suggested the thing to him. No; it wasn't till he was behindhand in his rent, and hi, poor eyes he was a diamond cutter, you sec, sir, and sat all day with his eye glued to a glass was giving out, that I thought of some way in which ma'm'selle ma'm'-selle could help him better than by embroidering. em-broidering. "The day the diamond got lest, my. how they did go oh! I thought the house was a-fire; and when I run up to tee, there was the old lady moaning, and mam'selle and mospcro n-turnin' everything topsy-turvy in thercom. "'What diamond?' says I, wonderin if they -all liad gone crazy, and then between, the old lady and her b.urbrsr-cl I found that she had been in ore a.iH"'7 . than usual that day, and in one of hi" journeys from his bench to the bnd. a-waitin on her, he had lost the dia- , naond he was cuttin', an extry lare and |
