The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-11-21


 Fwav wAicA Iands downward so tho hen of srern. Bssrayed to-nigAs the rosy sky oi so-mosEew's rnoEa will seem so blush for her alone. From this night dates her ruin.
 Come out from your room to the gas he street. Do you mark that crowd upon the cornerf Let us go over there. There are angry words. A brutal man, flushed by po,atiOns loag and deep consumed throughout the day, strikes q woman in the face. Shame on the dasard man. hood of the beast who did the deed The woman reels, stagRers, gathers herself with supeThunlAn effort, and with bleod- shot. flashing eyes gases upon her cow asd!y assailant We pity her. The gen. erosity of A charitable heart pleads for her. We could lynch the brute who struck her. And righ, while our hearts are the fullest our sympathies the keen est, she uiters a word of reproach so vile, so disGraceiullY loa,hsome and disgust ing that we hasten on and leave her wal lowing in her degradation and her woe.
 But who made her what she is to- nigh,2 You, sleek and glossy hbeIline, flashing your wealth and the sign manual thereof in the diamond on your hand ? You, sanctimonious devotee of mock religion which is one-seventh Gods and six seventh hells2 You, merchant prince, or you, bold adventurer in the realms of society which courts your wit. your chic, your debonair, your clothes ? You, married rake, whose power to blush is gone, whose wedding VOWS arc broken at the shrine of sinful lust2 But whoever thou art tonight we have looked upon thy work. And it is we'll done.
 Tonight Is the Alpha and Omega- the beginning and the end. The dying drunkard in the Armoty can clasp hands with the be ardless youth taking his first, uncertain, doubtful steps in the gilded palace of sin. Tonight the painted strumpet on her way to a suicides grave can, on the street corner, touch tho hand Of her younger sister listening to the low. earnest tones of the young Society rake,
 The gulf between them now seems far too wide. But the distance IS illu. sive the span is all too narrow. To- night sows the seed, and no drought or blight shall mar the crop of sin. The seed once sowp, the harvest is sure.
 But it cannot be expected that thoughts similar to these agltated the mind of Nathan Pettigrew. There was too little sentimentality wrapped up in the osa stock breeder. Whatever his experiences were they were no, detailed untiEabout the hour of midnight. At this time hatless coatless individual ran up the walk from the street, where hanson cab had stop. ped in front of the Pe,tigrew mansion, ard was met by a chorus ofmixed vol -es. including those of Mrs. Nathan Petti. grew. Don Webiool, imogen, Peletiah, udson and his mother
 "Wby, Nathan Pet,igrew where have you been 2" was the plaintive burden of their inquiries
 "Can't stop to explain now somebody give me a dollar for that hack. driver I'll tell you about it when settle with him." and Nathan sna,ched the coin from the hand of Pele;iAh, and ran nimbly back to the gate. He returoed more de- liberately, lis shiny. bald crown glcam- ing in the moonlight aud his thin iinges of grey hair gently lined by the night wind. Billy Bedapple. returning from an unsuccessful search. caught up with h.m and the two slowly asccnded the steps.
 When the family had all assembled in the parlor Nathan Pettigrew told his har- rowing tale.
 "What kind of people do you keep lying around loose in Chicago1" he iD- quired.
 Good, bad and indifferent" said B.. dapple.
 Nathan, where is your coat, and wha. did become of your hat7" anxiously ip- quired his wife.
 "ThM's us, it; where is my coat [ where's my hat? Where's my pocket book2"
 70, Nathan" said his wife hysteric- ally, "is it so bad as th u2"
 It just is, Becky, and no mistake Pele,iah, haven't you got some kind of a round about 1 could slip on7 I'm chilly.
 Have you been-been. o, Nathan, you haven't been drinkiog," said Becky. you know how fas. such story would