The Penn's Grove record., 1888-06-16

land, Dut was, ala5l only an asylum IOr
the insane.
One night, about ten O'Clock, when
the early moon had already gone to
and a soft darkness covered val
ley and hill, we went reluctantly to our
rooms to prepare for the nights rest.
1t was so pleasant that it gave a guilty
sense OF wasting time to spend 1t In
sleep.
1 had just put on my soft flannel,
Dire 5sing sack, and unpinned my hair
it is my own hair, ~too-ready for Ellen,
my maid, to brush it out, when Ethel,
with a light rap, opened the door, and
stood there for a moment, framed in
the dark wood work, with the dusky
hall for a background. looking s'pretty
a picture"
She had put on a long white cash
mere wrapper, let down her bright
auburn hair, which fell in curling
masses to her waist, and hoated around
her head like an aureola. A wax taper
held high up in the air threw q bright
light on the blooming face, the saucy
nose, a little up, and the rosy mouth;
the graceful folds OF the cashmere con-
cealed the fact that she had ''no figure
to speak Of" and altogether she looked
so cunning that my heart warmed
toward her, trying as are some Of her
ways.
Come, grandma" said she, gaily.
"We haven't looked for the 'man-in-
the-moon' yet"
This is a sport name she used to de-
note her cheerful sceptlcism on the
subject Of my fears. She isn't afraid
OF anything. 1t doesn't look well for a
girl to be so COURAGEOUS In my
time, girls were afraid Of everything,
a mouse. nowadays they dissect
mice.
I caught up the poker, and Ethel
seized a Iawn-tennis racquet, that had
been laid aside for repairs; Ellen, my
maid, brought up the rear Of the col.
umn, armed with a large, ivory-backed
hair brush, and altogether we had quite
the air OF that amusing painting of
Toby R~osenthal's. 1.-THE seminary
Alarmed"
"II tell you what I shall do, grand
ma, if the 'man-in-the.moon' ever does
come down." said Ethel. "Just feel
Of my triceps'' Tor biceps) and doubling
up her arm, she put my hand on 1t to
feel a place as hard as a door-knob.
She got that going to the gymnasium,
climbing upstairs on her hands instead
OF her feet. throwing dumb-bells, Just
like a boy. l don't approve OF such
In my days girls danced the
minust.
81 should just strike out from the
shoulder, So"
And, sultlng the action to the words
she ''struck out" Away went the
racquet right through the mirror,
.shivering it into a thousand fragments.
We all stood aghast, but Ethel recov-
cred herself at once.
TT tell you, grandma, If I should do
that, it would be the last Of him.
wouldn't itP Come, let's 60 on, and
then I'll help Ellen gather up the frag-
ments."
Here Ethel dropped on her knees,
and explored with the offending rae
quet every nook and corner Of the dim
fecess under the bed.
"Mr. Nobody here now," said she,
getting up with flushed face and tum-
bled hair; don't say after this, grand.
ma, that I'm not attentive"
We then gave the closet a thorough
Investigation. thumped on the walls
with a poker, shook out the water
proofs, that are certain to look as If
the sleeves were stuffed full of arms,
In old shoe boxes, and finally,
standing up in a chair. l rummaged
along a shelf running the length of the
closet, where | was always afraid that
some tramp would lay himself away
through the day.
Satisfied at last, We took up the line
of march, in and out of the winding
halls, up and down through vacant
rooms, shaking old clothes, humping
dead walls, poking into broken boxes,
and opening invaded trunks, until we
reached the last room, a little bedroom.
with a shelving roof, at the end of
which was a low door, leading into a
small closet, halt-flled with a box of
worm-eaten books.
ssThus endeth the farce" said Ethel.
throwing wide the little door, and
There he wasl
LOW.DTOWtu filldllOuo, . nuOCh VI
coarse black hair brisIling on his head,
q fierce black eye, glancIng out of his
his head, a bunch Of false keys In one
hand and a pistol in the other.
Ethel entirely forgot about "striking
out from the shoulder"
As for me, the poker fell from my
limp and trembling hand. and I said
Of all the absurd things that Q woman
could say on such an Occasion-I said,
as If he were a long-expected friend,
"H-o-w, how do you dor"
At this strange s~alutatiOn, a grim
smile lurked round the corners Of the
m ms mouth.
.Rather warm in here, thank you,"
he replied, with a mocking air of
"With your permission I'll
step out"
There was an ominous click Of the
pistol, and-the man stepped out.
''The Howly Virgin save usl" cried
Ellen, she wears a French cap, but
speaks with a Dublin accent-and she
fell upon her knees, and
began to tell her beads.
The burglar wiped the drops of
sweat from bis ugly brow, and looked
greedily at the diamond scarf-pin which
fastened my lace kerchief.
s.Don't be afraid, old lady," said he,
~ shan't hurt you, but I'll
trouble you for that PIN"
''If 1t had Eeen to save my life. /
could not have moved my trembling
hands; but Ethel stepped forward to
unclasp it, and. il you'll believe me.
that child was as cool as a December
morning.
First water" said the burglar,
grasping the pin, looking at it, and
then stufing in into his pocket.
NOW, old lady, your watch" That
cut me to the heart. for Ethel's grand
father had given me that watch for q
wedding present. 1t was set with
pearls all around the face. and on the
back, enamelled In blue, was a forget
me.not, in small diamonds. I valued
it next TO my wedding ring, but mercy!
In a twinkling that went, too.
"Rather thln," said he, "but will do
to melt up" Dear mel / would almost
as soon have my withered old heart
up.
"Now' said he, turning to Ethel,
talks the bur0au.draWera.D