Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1889-03-12
PENINsuLA's cUANDARY.
a synopsis OF tho Coming Great Aneri.
can Work of Fiction.

n synopsis OF the coming Great Aricrr
can Work Of Fiction.
[NoTE-This remarkable story
published, IL is hardly necessary to
say, from advance sheets OF Mr.. W-m
DIN Ills next novel. AS printed
below, it appears In somewhat con-
densed form, but contains all that is
noteworthy in plot, incident and dia-
logue in the entire story.
ctAP. I.
A picturesqucly commonplace, Or
dinary, Unconditional New England day.
The sun, having risen some three
hours previously, was now about three
hours high. Its rays, shining in
through the second-story back parlor
window OF a plain frame dwelling
hou'e on quiet street in Dismalton,
lit up a split-bottomed chair occupied
by thin-haired young woman. evil
IDENTIFY suffering from heartburn. The
window, it should be mentioned, was
OF ordinary construction, being made
OF Pine sash, and Okla, or possibly
lOxl4, glass. The putty had dropped
of in places. and the fastening
at the top OF the lower sash was par
TALLY broken of. as II il had been hasti-
ly raised by inserting an axe or soup
ladle at the bottom and prying up
ward. This might have been done in
moment of forgetfulness by the au-
burn-haired and contemplative do
nestle who was employed at a stipend
OF S. so per week to do the cooking
and look after the house.
The young woman who sat in the
chair was near-sighted and wore steel
trimmed glasses. She was not hand
some, but there was an expression
about bor sallow face with its square
jaw and aquiline nose, slightly red
dened at the tip, that sometimes caused
persons who met her TO look at her a
second time.
Mother she said TO an angular
matron who entered the apartment,
~ am impressed with the conviction
or perhaps say | am at times dimly
conscious OF an impression-that this
life of excitement is making me slight
ly nervous.
And she put away the yarn stocking
she was darning and picked up late
New England novel by Jenry Hames.
Peninsula said her mother, after
pause, during which she had been
vaguely watching the uneasy slumbers
OF detected cat that lay Imply on tho
rug before the fire. II think you had
better spend few months in Italy.
What shall we have for dinnerP"
CHAP. II.
Three weeks later. Rome. Vatican.
Catacombs. Pigeons. Gloomy sun
shine. Oppressive feeling Of ennui.
Mother" said Peninsula, as the two
stood in front of the Pamphilia-Doria
palace. "isn't that aged horse terribly
lame? All. me! What is life good for,
wonder, anyhow"
"My daughter" replied the moth er,
with n drcary yawn, rs she aimlessly
looked at her watch and remembered
she had not wound it since she left
Dismalton, "we will go TO Venice.n
CHAP. III.
Gondolas ST. Marks. Pervading
dampness, odors of garlic. and pensive
memories of Venetian Days. Contin-
uation Of ennui.
Mother, yearn for my New En-
gland home. Life here is SO intense,
80 aquatic, So"
al know it, my daughter. And the
eggs are toe Oriental. want you
should not become too much excited.
Remember how the story OF Annie
Quillburn worked upon your sensitive
nature"
"Motheri' exclaimed Peninsula, In
voice OF hopeless melancholy, 1--WE
will return home"
CHAP. ~.
Dismalton. Another ordinary New
England day. The mother and
daughter alighted from the two-seated
carryall, had their trunks carried into
the house, paid the man and went in.
They had returned home. A few
more chunks OF putty had fallen from
the second-story back window, and the
cat was rather thinner than formerly.
Otherwise the place was unchanged.
What time Is It, mother9"
81 think" said the mother, looking
at the sun, at must be about eleven
o'clock. Or half-past," she added, re-
lectively.
The evening shades had fallen, but O
faint odor of boiled cabbage still per-
vaded the quiet New England home.
There was knock at the front door
The bell, 1t should be explained, was
out of repair.
The caller was shown into the par
lor.
81 have called, Peninsula, to-"
The young village doctor paused {
moment to suppress an involuntary
spasmodic action that looked like
yawn, but may have been a hiccough
II have called, Peninsula, to ask i
you will marry mo-"
"Fotheringay," she answered, look
ing at the hickory-wood fire in the
CRATE with painful incertitude, "a Cal
not say whether will or not"
THE END.
Chicago Tribune.
60