Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-07-27

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food-he hardly looked at 1.-THE did moi
know what 1t was, and did not care-which
would have to be paid for at the rate OF 3s Sd
per head; but as compared with this frugal
festivity the splendors of the preceding
evening-the masses of roses, the pyramids
of ice, the silver candelabra, and all the rest
-shrank into insignifcance.
AS for the old man (ior the world was not
created solely for young folk) he was at once
CAV and oracular.
'These little breaks and diversions. he
was saying, as he stirred his cofee-for the
time of cigarettes had arrived, care useful
things-useful things; an affair of the mo-
ment, truly; but the wise man makes of the
passing moment as much as he possibly can,
| Why, the real curse of modern life-the in
eradicable disease-is the habit of continu-
ally looking before and after. We none of
us think enough of the present moment; we
are anxiously speculating as to the future,
| or, what is worse still, fretting over the
memory of past inj njuries and past mistakes;
That is where the uneducated, the unimag.
inative, have their consolation; we are not
half so happy and content as the stolid
ploughman or the phlegmatic bricklayer
who thinks only of the present heat, or the
present cold, or, at furthest, of the next pint
of beer, and the prospect of getting to bed,
with the knowledge that he will sleep
sound. The actual and immediate things
before them are the things that interest
them; not the unknown future or the use
less past. But 1 have schooled myself,
thanks in great measure to Horace-and
my granddaughter knows her Horace, too
and think keep as stout heart as most.
Dunn loquimur. of course, fugerit invida
etas; but even while 1 know that the night
presses down upon me- and the shadowy
fathers, and the empty halls OF Pluto, put
the knowledge away from me; I am con-
tent with the present moment; 1 am more
than content, for example, with this very
excellent cigarette"
would you allow me to send you few
boxes?" interposed Vincent, at once and
eagerly. 81 think the cork mouthpiece is
great improvement. know where they are
to be got. May send you seme?"
II thank you; but they are not much in
nv way" the old man said. with a certain
loftiness of demeanor. Gas was remark
ing, the time has gone by tor unavaiIing re-
grets over what has been done to me and
mine. I think may say that throughout
we have shown bold front. Stand fast,
Craig Royston! has not been out watchword
for nothing. And as for the future-why,
to the gods belongs tomorrow The autic-
ipation o. evil will not remove it.: the re-
calling of bygone injuries provides no COM
pensation. The present moment is our ain;
the neist we never saw and so, as we have
had a pleasant evening so far think we
may as we'll get away home again; and,
Maisrie, you will get out your violin. and
we'll have some Scotch songs, and nv young
friend and will taste just drop of Scotch
whisky; and ii there's any better combina-
tion than that in the world, / do not know
of it."
But here very awkward incident oc-
Cured. Old George Bethune, in his grand
manner. called to the waiter to bring the
bill. Now Vincent had intended to steal
out and arrange this little matter without
allowing the young lady to have cogniz-
ance of it; but OF course the waiter, when
summoned, came up to the table, and pro-
ceeded to pencil out the account
II think, sir" put in the young man,
"you'd better let me have that. 1t was nv
proposal, you know"
"Oh, very well," said Mr. Bethune, care
lessly; and as carelessly he handed over the
the slip of paper he had taken from the
waiter.
But the quick look of pain and humili-
alton that swept over the girls face stabbed
him to the heart.
"GrandiatherI' she said, with burning
flush.
"Oh, we'll, her grandfather said, petu-
lently; II have just discovered that I have
left my purse behind. Some other time-it
is all the same-it is immaterial-the
next time will be my turn"
Here is my purse, grand father" she
said; and she turned with an air of quiet
firmness to her younger neighbor, and
merely said, 'If you pleasel' He was too
bewildered to refuse; there was something
In her manner that compelled him to accede
without word OF protest. She pushed her
purse and the slip of paper across the table
to her grandfather, and then she rose and
cent forthwith brought to her. The curious
mingling of simplicity and dignity with
which she had interposed impressed him
perhapsi she was not so much of a
school girl as she had seemed when he first
saw her walking through Hyde Park? Then
the three of them left the restaurant to-
gether, and quietly made their way home |
throug h the gathering twilight
But he would not 90 in when they ar
rived at the door, though the old man again |
put Scotch music and Scotch whisky before |
him as an inducement. Perhaps he dreaded |
to outstay his welcome He bade them |
both goodnight, and Maisrie Bethune, as
she parted from him, was so kind as to say: |
Thank you so muchl' with the briefest, |
timid glance of her all-too-eloquent eyes.
He went across to his own r0oms-merely |
for forms sake. He did not light the gas |
when he got upstairs. He carefully shut !
the window; then he sat down to the piano;
and very gently and quietly he played a
graceful little air. 1t was "Dormez, DOR
neZ ma beilel": and il was kind of fare.
we'll message ior the night; but he had made
'ure that she should not hear.
To be Continued Neat Sunddy.]