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Show TWO DREAMS. One night I went to fairyland, Ft fays and elm attended, With winjae sprites on every hand Ah me, the seeue wan iipleudid. And I was norrj when I woke, And found tbe dream was ended. Another night I drove amain Through flelilii that were not sunn, With imps and demons in my train Intent on being funny; And I wouldn't dream that drem again For any amount of money. Joe)ihine Pollard, in Harper's Young People. turned to the portrait "I am new man, and can look upon it with Indifference .now." "What do you mean, brother?" asked Penelope, disengaging from her shoulder the black lace shawl, and nervously drawing off her gloves, as if to delay the discharge of some unpleasant duty. "I mean that I have exchanged hatred for forgiveness. These many years I have planned a deliberate re-venge for a cruel wrong that had beoa done me. For this purpose I kept Eva ignorant of her own history. It was my wish to make the sifter of Marietta love mo, and feel that only in me could she live and be happy. I educated her in refinement. and luxury, and in the most emotional form of art; I met her every wish, gratified her idlest whim. Then, when her love for me should be ripe, when she should have consented to be my wife, and looked forward to being ehorishod, honored, and protected by me, 1 intended bringing hor face to face with this picture, enchantress with enchantress, the innocent with the guilty, and telling that 1 hated her be-cause of the treachery of her bister whom she so marvelously resembled. I purposed after this turning her out of my house with a bare pittance to live upon." COL. BENT HAM'S REVEXGE Col. Bentham had been perplexed. He had not felt quite sure whether he was in love or not. He had had an idea that he was not in love, but was only obeying the motive which had made him adopt Eva Tibaldi, educate her in Europe, give her thai training of her voice which had equipped her (in case opportunity wore given) for success on the stage) and bring hor finally to live in his home in Now York. This motive had been revenge. The colonel is now in his sanctum, his library and smoking-room- . Im-agine a tall, fashionably dressed man, not yet 40. His hair is blonde, but the pale, massivo features of his face are neither effeminate nor coarse. The deep-se- t eyes of very pale blue are piercing, and the jaw a little square. There seems a want of emotion in the thin lips. Certainly the colonel wears the stamp of a strong, passionate na-ture (for passion and emotion are not one), with a spirit of rago bordering on cruelty as its substratum. A name-los- s refinement, almost fastidiousness, an ease of ma u nor, a powor of courte-ous words, are among the colonel's most obvious traits. The men ho meots at his club think him pleasant, the women whom ha sometimes chats with and compliments say he is de-lightful. How then can tho ruling spirit of his life bo revenge? it is pretty late tonight and yet the colonel never seemed more wide-awake, more alert Ho is waiting for h ring at the door. Eva had gone to tho Metropolitan opera-hous- o under charge of his sister his dear, silver-haire- d Penelope. They aro to hoar the famous singers of tho yoar. some of wbom Eva met at Florence in her old musical days. Tho colonel detosts opera, as he detosts the whole singing profession. Yet It is only carrying out his plan and purpose that Eva should delight in music, in order that she may resemble her sister all the more and bo made passionate and im-pressible as was hor sister. Ho is thinking of her sister at this moment He rises from the soft 'leather-covere- d easy chair where he lias been sitting, and draws aside a curtain which looks like a narrow portiere. It discloses an easel, and set upon it is a full-leng- th picture of a lady in pink a lady whose skin eclipses in clearness the tint so often fatal to beauty, and whose eyes are at once shadowy, profound, and penetrat-ing eyes too dangerous to look upon for long. ft la i i., : : Penelope shuddered, but not at the words of the colonel. She looked curi-ously at his face, which was radiant with fresh and tender light "I have relented," said the colonel. "Last night her boauty broke down my resolve and sho triumphed over me by admitting with happy tears that she loved me. And now, Penelope, I wish to see her before she retires to-night, so that in your presence-- " Penelope grew white whiter and more haggard than sho was when she entered the room. She rose and laid her hand upon his arm. "Brother,'' sho said in a sort of a whisper, "Eva is not at home." Tho colonel turned quickly and his eyes widened with surprise, "Surely she is not out alone?" ho gasped almost emphatically. "Sho has left us! This note was given to mo at tho carriage door; she must have slipped off as we passed through the foyer." Bentham with a hasty movement took the fragment of paper. "Soldigno, the tenor--- I know him," ho said calmly, dropping the note to tho ground, "and every capital in Europe knows him. Well, Fortune is a woman and a perverse one. I asked for revenge and she sent me a dream of love and peace; and now that I ac-cept it as my destiny, she snatches it away and gives me my revenge Instead. I will not quarrel with her; for if there ts a hell on earth," and here his face changod with a gleam of almost exultation, "Soldigno will provide it for the woman that loves him." Epi-phani- Wilson in tho Epoch. it is not. However, a long time sinco tho colonel has looked upon them. Yet he has never scon thorn for the last fifteen years without feeling a tightness at the heart, as if he had received a blow which not only pained him, but which somo strange bar-rier prevented hlra from returning. And mingled with this bitterest of bittor mental pangs there has been a kind of regret or sorrow, bordering on tenderness, which might somo day, long, long ago, have been lovo. The colonel had loved tho woman of that portrait And shewell, sho had gone the way of many women. A singer, gifted aa horself, had enticed her from her intended husband and shad married hor. Two years later ;the woman hud died of a broken heart, leaving her littlo sister without a ihomo. Then the colonel did two things. First of all he went to the painter to whom the doad diva in hor palmy days f luxury had given many sittings, and ordered a full-leng- th portrait of Marietta Tibaldi. This picture he ha I set up, on the very easel on which it had been painted. In his own private room. Then a curtain was hung over it, as he had seen done with some Ji iropean altar-piece- s. Like a priest bjfore a shrine would he stand and gaze upon this rtuliant laughing, and triumphant Image of virginal loveli-ness and power. The secon1 thing he did was to obtain from the drunken tenor the legal right of an adoptive father over the child Eva. J ne indulgence ot any great passion, oven envy haired, or regret, becomes eventually a source of Intense delight, and the more so the more this indulg-ence Is imaginative and intellectual. Col. Bentham, up to the present lime, after gazing upon this portrait would tremble aud grow pale, his brow would gather a scowl, his hands would be-come clinched. But this excitement had sprung not from love but from .hatred; his had been a worship com-posed of rage and execration conscious of thoir impotence, yet feeding on a vision of a future revenge. There was a knock at the door of the Colonel's room. His eister entered. Her purtui bed manner contrasted with .the calm, serene air of her brother. Penelope seemed, to have been cry-lu- g. ' "You needn't mind the picture sister," said Benthaai smi!-.ngl- y, and following her eye? as they turn the dogs loose on him, he weak-ened and told all. Although wounded Adams had clung to a floating log In the river and reached the opposite side unseen. He then made his way to Bailey's, a local desperado of the worst typo, a3 here remained until his wound healed. He knew Bailey well and distrusted him, and took means to insure his silence by shooting him through the head at the first favorable opportunity, and then made his way to the Lower Mis-sissippi Hearing of the death of his wife and the loss of his property he became desperate and returned to Alabama with the determination to kill every Doran on sight, and be found in his old slave a faithful and efficient co-adjutor, who was now awaiting his coming. Benson and the dogs were sent away, the negro was threatened with death if he gave an alarm, and the party set themselves to watch through the chinks in the logs. After two hours' watch one of the party gave a "hist, here ho comes," and a tall man camo trolling through the clearing, mounted on a big bay. It was Adams suro enough. He gave a low whistlo, and muttering to him-self, dismounted, hid his horse and pushed open the puncheon door. Duffy was behind it and at once seized him. "Burt Adams, you are my prisoner in the name of the State of Alabama." In a flash the outlaw's bowie was out and the constable received a deadly thrust. The others at once pitched in, but Adams fought like a tiger, and it was not until he had been thrice shot through the body that he dropped. He uttered no word, but looked at his captors with a wild glare, and making a threatening gest-ure with his hand, gave a shudder and was gone. ANT OLD ALABAMA FEUD. THE SPEEDY JUSTICE TO A DES-PERATE OUTLAW. How Hurt Ailanu Ilel Numerous Cow-ardly Murders by a Man Who, d to be Irowned. Mel Violent Death. In ISto there lived in Southorn Ala-bama two planters whose land joined and lay in that fertile delta between the Tombigby and Alabama rivers. Their names were respectively Adams and Doran. Burton Adams was gener-ally regarded as a dangerous man, ready to cut or shoot on alight provo-cation, but it was believed by his neighbors that his evil temper and bad habits were fostered and aggravated by his wife's teaching and example. She was at strife with all the families around and had no associates. Espec-ially did she hate the Dorans. There were three brothers of this name and they and Adams had been schoolboys together and they did their best to maintain friendly relations with their quarrelsome neighbor, but tho trouble came at last On a visit to Mobile Mrs. Adams met two of the Doran sisters in a large millinery establishment. Regardless of the public character of the place she gave the two ladies a vulgar tongue-lashin- g and was at once ejected by the proprietor. Wild with rage the woman looked up her husband. Between drink and his wife's provo-cation Adams scarce knew what was doing. He attacked the store-keeper with a knife and cut him fear-fully and then mounted his horse and rapidly rode nway. The Dorans were at once warned, and towards evening Tierce, the old-est brother, accompanied by several well-arme- d friends, started for home. The road ran by tho river bank and was bordered by dense shrubbery. Tierce was ahead, and suddenly a gun cracked and ho dropped from his Bud-die. His friends rode into the thicket, but saw no ouo until a negro servant called out: "There he goes!" Sure enough, Burt Adams, on his big sorrel, was galloping away up the river road, lie was closely followed aud at the cry of "horse thief a number or peo-ple ahead drew up across the road and turned the fugitive. The Alabama river was in flood, the current running like a mill race, and full of driftwood, but the murderer did not hesitate to plunge in. Before he was fifty yards away his pursuers were on the bank, and under a volley of rifle balls Adams went under. His horse made a struggle, but was swept away; but nothing vas seen of the rider. "A good riddance," was the general verdict Pierce Doran had a light for life, but finally recovered. Mrs. Adams had always been a cruel mistres?, but now her wickedness knew no restraint Her servants were beaten and mutilated until her neighbors be-came indignant and protested, but in vain. At length the end came. One night in December the sky was lit by a red glow and it was known that the fire was at the Adams plantation. When the neighbors galloped up the mansion was glowing like a furnace aud the negroes were all shut up in their quarters, and the only answer they made to the inquiries of the whites was: "Fo' de Lord, Massa, we don't know nuthin' 'bout it" No one doubted but that the woman had been murdered by hor outraged bondsmen and the house fired. There were no witnesses but negroes, and they were not competent to testify, and so the matter ended. The planta-tion and bands were Bold under a mort-gage held by one of the Mobile banks, and bought by Barnes Doran, who built a new house and moved there with his family. This was two years after the killing of Adams. One day a servant brought Mr. Doran a paper he had found on the house porch. It was addressed to Barnos Doran and warned him to leave the old Adams plantation, as the writer was resolved to avenge Burt Adams' death, and would kill any one living pn his lands. There was no signature, but Doran made investigations and found that one of his negroes who had been a slave of Adams', had left the planta-tion that morning. Going to his over-seer Doran said: "Here, Jonas, get a horse; take this note to Constable Duffy, and stop at Benson's and tell him to come at once and bring two of hU best dogs." Another messengor was sent to several of the neighbors and Inside of two hours a party of six armed men crossed the river. A coat of Sam's was produced and snuffed at by the dogs and, held in hand by the tracker Benson, they entered the woods. A rough road had been cut through the dense forest that reached to the Mississippi state line, but there were numerous hog tracks, and into one of these the dogs turned, nose to the ground. An hour's walk brought them to a small clearing, in which stood a low, log cabin. Smoke was coming out of the chimney at the end. "I thought so," said the constable, a brave little Irishman, "this is Bailey's old ranche, but he's away as I've a warrant agin' him for horse-stealin- g, and he left a year ago. Keep back the dogs and we'll make a rush." The party quickly surrounded the cabin and on entering found the fugi-tive negro building a fire on the clay hearth. He was quickly tied, but to talk until, under a threat to a mammm 1 HE WON HIS BET. But It Was Iarlnf Hrheuia and Hardly Worth the Trouble. I heard the other day a good story which my informant believes to be true. I give it for what it is worth, says a writer in the New York Mar. A young man about town made a bet of $.000 that ho could visit a number of fashionable receptions on a single afternoon and carry off worth of silverware. According to the terms of the bet he was not to visitany house where he was known. He merely picked out a list of receptions from a society paper, called a cab and started on his predatory expedition. At the first house he was about to take a silver-- mounted brush from the men's dressing-roo- m when an application of the teeth convinced him that t e arti-cle was not worth the risk. Accord-ingly he dropped the brush and con-tented himself witn some otherarticle. He visited three or four places, aud at each took something of value. Finally, just after he bad slipped several spoons into his pocket at one place a big man with a heavy mustache said to him: "Have you everything you want?--' Affecting to understand the other to refer to the eatables, he of the bet answered: "Yes; thank you. I'll not eat anything more." When the young man left the house, his questioner, who was a de-tective, saw him got into the cab and heard the instructions given to the driver. When the maker of the bet arrived at the next house, he went to the dressing-roo- m and promptly began pocketing silver. But in the midst of this the detective emerged from under the bod and attempted to arrest the supposed thief. The latter, however, being an athlete, shook off the detec-tive, tripped him up, and whon those In the house reached the scone, suc-ceeded in persuading every one that the detective was tlio guilty man. This accomplished, the younjr man hastened home, did up his plunder in packages addressed to tho owners, and sent each home by a messenger boy, cautioned to deliver his package and answer no questions. The auda-cious young man won the bet and escaped arrest. A GETTYSBURG HEROINE. Khe Baked Bread for the Soldiers While the Battle Was on. In his reminiscenses of Gettysburg, Gen. Henry W. Slocum narrates this interesting incident: "We called at the house which has always been an object of interest to all who visit this field. Near the line occupied by the brigade under com-mand of Gen. J. B. Carr. of Troy, N. Y.. stands a little one-stor- y house, which at the time of the battle was occupied by a Mrs. Rogers and her daughter. On the morning of July 2, Gen. Carr stopped at tho house and found the daughter, a girl about 18 years of age, alone busily engaged In baking bread. He informed her that a great was inevitable, and ad-vised her to seek a place of safety nj, once. She said she had a batch of bread baking in tbe oven, and she would remain until it was baked and then loive. When her bread wus baked, it was given to our soldiers, and devoured so eagerly that she con-cluded to remain and bake another batch. And so she continued until the end of the battle, baking and giv-ing her bread to all who came. The great artillery duel which shook the earth for miles around did not drive her from her oven. Pickett's men who charged past her house found her quietly baking her bread and it to the hungry. When the battle was over her house was found to be riddled with shot and shell, and seventeen dead bodies were taken from the house and cellar; the bodies of wounded mon who had crawled to the little dwelling for shelter. Twenty years after the closo of the war Gen. Carr's men and others held a grand reunion at Gettysburg; and learning that Josephine Rogers was still living, but had married and taken up her residence in Ohio, they sent for her, paid her passage from hor homo to Gettysburg and back, and had her go to her old home and toll thein the story which they all knew so well. They decorated her with a score of army badges, and sent her back a happy woman. Why should not tho poet immortalize Josephine Rogers as he did Barbara Frietchie?" HE SQUARED HIMSELF. How a New York Man DlHgulKed In Whisk-ers iot Into Trouble. The fashion of letting the beard grow as a protection to the throat was never, it snouts to mo, so genoral as it was last winter, says the New York Star. The addition makes a wonder-ful difference in the appearance ol some faces. I heard a lawyer tell a story last winter that illustrates that fact. "You will notice," he said to a party of friends, "that I have quite a strong growth of beard. I stopped shaving early in October. The other day I was riding on the front platform of a car, as 1 was smoking, and among the passengers who got on .board was a cousin of mine, her husband, and their young baby. I had not seen the lady since tho day she was married, in the summer of 1889, and the hus-band never saw me but on the night of the wedding. Then 1 had only a mustache. I looked in at the front door and nodded to my cousin, but she did not return the salutation. I repeated it, but still there was no response. Boing convinced that she did not know mo I determined to have some fun, so I kept smiling at and nodding to her. She began to be evi-dently disconcerted, and in a few min-utes 1 noticed that she was whisporing to her husband. After the talk the gentleman left his seat and went to the rear platform, when he spoke excitedly to the conductor. That worthy came through the car, and, opening the front door, said to me: " 'You must either stop insulting the lady in the car or get off. Her hus-band has complained about your con-duct' "I told him I did not want to insult any one, and as he began to get ex-cited I passed into the car, and, taking hold of a strap, leaned over tho lady and said: ' 'Why, Minnie, how are you?' "She looked at me for a moment and then exclaimed: ' 'Cousin Eddie! How aro you? 1 didn't know you with whiskers.' "The car was pretty well crowded, and as everybody understood that I bad been complained of, there, was a general laugh at the denouement" A l'ulr Show. Under a late law made in Egypt the man who marries need not keep his own name, but take that of the woman, if he so desires. It is said that this law was rendered necessary by so many American and English Smiths taking up their residence in that coun-try. The girls wanted to marry, but they didn't want the name. The Song That Reaehed Their Hearts. A gentleman who was recently at a small-hou- r banquet relates: "It is astonishing how many business men are good singers. You will find more men who can sing than you will find women. At the affair of which I speak there were representatives from nearly every foreign country, our own coun-trymen, of course, predominating. And most of those present were sing-ers. A young student from Heidel-berg gave us in its native tongue, 'The Watch on the Rhine,' ' for which, of course, he received tbe customary i recognition. An Englishman sang 'Annie Laurie,' an Irishman 'The Harp That Once Thro' Tara's Hall,,' and a Frenchman the 'Marseillaise.' Each ' one of these songs was as well rendered as I ever heard it, and I know they were all appreciated. Then some one j gave us 'America.' It didn't quite hit, ' in some way. A young man with one of those ringing tenor voices started the 'Star-Spangle-d Banner.' Before he reachod the chorus every man was on his feet, and each one was waving his napkin, and each one was singing with all his might They went over l it again and again, and I never heard such singing in my life. That was the song that reaehed their hearts." Philadelphia Press. CLEANINGS FROM RUSKIN. You can no more filter your mind into purity than you can compress it into calmness; you must keep it pure if you would have it pure; and throw no stones into it if you would have it quiet The poor wo must have with us al-ways and sorrow is inseparable from any hour of life; but we may make their poverty such as shall inherit the earth; and the sorrow such as shall bo hallowed by the hand of the Com-forter, with everlasting comfort You know how often it is difficult to be wisely charitable; to do good with-out multifying the sources of evil. You know that to give alms is nothing unless you give thought also; and that therefore it is written, not "blessed is he that feedeth the poor," but "blessed is be that considereth the poor." And you know that a little thought and a little kindness aro often worth more than a great deal of money. The essonce of lying is in deception, not in words; a lie may be told by si-lence, by equivocation, by an accent on a sylable, by a glance of the eye; and all these kinds of lies are worse and baser than a lie plainly worded; so that no form of blinded conscience is so far sunk as that which comforts itsolf because the deception was by gesture or silence, instead of utter-ance; for, according to Tennyson's deep and trenchant line, "A lie which is half the truth is ever the worst of lies." People sometimes speak, in mis working age, as if houses and lands, and food and raiment were alone useful, and as if sight, thought and admiration were all profitless, so that men insolontly call themselves Untllitarlans, who would turn them-selves and their' race into vegetables; men who think (as far as such can be said to think) that the moat is more than life, and the raiment than the body; hewers of wood and drawers of water, who think that it is to give them wood to hew, and water to draw, that the fine forests cover the moun-tains like the shadow of God, and the great rivers move like His eternity. We seem to think sometimes that a reverent and tender duty is due to one whose affection we still doubt; and whose character we as yet do but partially and distantly descern, and that this reverence and duty are to be withdrawn when the affections has become wholly and limitlessly our own, and the character has beentso sifted and tried that we fear not to intrust it with the happiness of our lives. Do you not feel how Ignoble and unreasonable this is. Do you not feel that marriage, when it is ture marriage at all, is only tho soal which marks the vowed transition of tem-porary into untiring service, and of fitful inb eternal love? PROCRESS OF MINISTERS. Thnae with Large Congregations Stand .Still Intellectually. "F'armton" says In the Advance: "I like to study the development of ministers, or the failure of ministers to develop. A good many ministers I meet not oftener than once a year. Such infrequeney of meeting gives better ground for testing the progress of ministers than a frequent meeting. I have been struck by what seems to me to be tho failure of ministers to develop in mind and heart. I find that several of them do not now speak as well as they spoke five or eight years ago. This decline, I tbink, is more common among ministers of large churches than of small; more common among ministers that have large relations with the public tban among those who live more private lives. I infer, therefore, that the minister whoso services are diverse and frequent has a much harder task to dovelop himself than tho minister whose labor is more secluded. If I were to utter a word of warning to any of the popular preachers of the time, it would be, 'Your intellect will go to pieces upon the rock of popularity. At fifty-fiv- e, when you ought to ba in your prime and still growing, you will be in your decline, if you dojnot give heed to yourself.' " Jay Gould's Pointer on Stocks. L. A. Towne, a wealthy man of Austin, Tex., tells this little story: "I got my start in life through Jay Gould. I was a porter in a hotel at T Greenwood lake where Jay Gould used to stop, and the financier took a fancy to me somehow. One day just as he was starting to New York I said to him: 'Mr. Gould, I have saved up $200 and I would like to increase it in the next few months and go West and invest it' Gould looked at me sharp-ly a moment and then whispered In my ear, 'Buy Erie.' I bought Erie and cleared over $1,000 on the invest-ment The next time Gould came to the lake he asked me if 1 had followed his instructions. I told him that I had. 'Sell it at once and keep your promise about going West,' said Mr. Gould. That night I telegraphed an order for the sale of my stock and the next time Jay Gould visited Green-wood lake his favorite porter was missing. He had gone West, bought a ranch and he has grown up with the country." N. Y. Tribune. Learning the Business. Dealer Vat happen to dls hat? Small son I vas snappln' it vif my vingors, like you do, to zhow a gus-tom- or vat good stuff it vas, and it proke. "Mine Cootness! You havn't got prains enough to sell beanuts. Yen you snap a hat to zhow it can't pe proke, you must keep vun hand inside, so it not break." New York Weekly. Cut It Short. If it is unnecessary to say a thing, why say it? "It is altogether needless to enter on any argument to sustain this proposi-tion," says the learned judge, and forthwith enters on one of great length and intense dullness. "I deem it entirely unnecessary to combat the gentleman's views," says the orator, and, so saying, goes on to combat them till some rude person cries "rats!" "I will not stop to enlarge," observes the preacher, and then he stops, and enlarge is no name for it "It goes without saying," remarks the editor, and then, for fear it will not go, says It over and over again for a column or two. 'Tell me not in mournful numbers," sings the poet, and straightway informs himself in many unhilarious stanzas of the very things he did not want to know. What is the necessity, the cruel necessity for the unnecessary thing? N. Y. World. Why She Keeps Still. "That woman at the corner of ths table is very silent, isn't she?" "She has a good reason to be. Any woman under her circumstances would do the same." "Oh, what is it, James; what's the reason?" pleaded Mrs. Botticus, who dearly loved a scandaL "Why, she's deaf and dumb." Phil-adelph- Times. The Absorbing Aboiigue. "Then," said Mr. Tenderfoot, thrlll-ingl- y, describing his western ad-ventures, "The Indians stole upon us!" "And what did thdy do?" breath-lessly asked a friend. ; "Then they gradually stole every-- ! thing else!" New York Herald. . e . Didn't Do (lira Any Good. A. You should marry. Woman exerts a refining influence on man. J What you need is a wife. B Are you married? "O, yes; I've been married twenty years." "Why havn't you and your wife been living together all these, years?" Txas Sittings. ITIade, a Dos; Laugh. "That article you had In last week's paper was the funniest thing I ever read," said a lady to an editor. "I am glad to hear you Bay so." "Oh, not at all. It wodld make a dog laugh. I thought my husband would split his" sides." Arkansaw Traveler. matrimonial Item. "What's the matter here?" asked a stranger of a small boy as he noticed a large wedding party coming out cl a church on FTfth avenue. "Nawthln' but the tied join' out," was the reply. |