Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1891-08-22

brown 10 dull red; her hair, plastered
in festoons on her forehead, was braided
at the back in broad oiled plaits confined
by large brass hairpins. Her mouth was
small, her lips thin; her eyes, which
were large and round. had the half
vacant, half melancholy look noticeable
in the eyes of beasts of burden, which
while they stretch out their necks 10 the
yoke with the placid indifference of long
habit, carry in their patient, reproachful
glance a silent protest against the hope
lessness of their fate.
Amy one who had watched the woman
narrowly might have seen that at each
feint or subtle stroke her pupils dilated
and her breath came more quickly through
her parted lips. p esently the invincible
MaxagTano had to confess himself abso-
lutely vanquished.
The fght was over. The soldier turned
with little gesture of triumph toward
the woman and smilingly saluted her
with stick in military fashion.
She responded neither by look nor
gesture.
The athlete, who had remained dog
gedly mute listening angrily to the APP
plause Of the men outside, who had
thrust their heads to the tent, allowed
them to disperse orce more; then strid.
ing toward the private, who had resumed
his jacket, he placed his coarse hand on
his shoulder and said sgvagely:
Not so soon, my fine fellow. Let US
play quits. Work it out with your fists.
Wen wrestle, if you please.
The soldier looked surprised. The
woman had started to her feet. The
cloak falling to the ground revealed the
garishness Of her circus dress and her
bare, outstEetched arms.
Don't fight him, she almost shrieked
In voice of terrified entreaty. He is
IN one of his tantrums; he'll hurt you.
Mazagrano turned on her furiously.
$50, he said with an ugly snecr, you're
afraid I'll spoil his beluty, missus. Then
facing the private again he added bru-
tally, Are you man or coward2"
The soldier had become quite pale. He
was brave, but not over strong, and he
knew 1t. However, he began slowly to
unbutton bis coat again.
Don't fight with himl Don't fight!r
repeated the woman mechanically and
almost inaudibly, as she sank down help
less on the wooden box.
Mazagrano crossed his arms over his
chest and stood motionless, while his op-
ponent attired himself in the wrestler's
scanty apparel that had been flung at his
feet. The athletes eyes were bloodshot,
his upper lip was lifted in smile of
bestial ferocity, and occasionally he shot
cruel glance at the woman, who gazed
before her with widened, terror stricken
eyes. The two men faced each other
and closed. Not for long. Almost at
once the soldier was thrown, both his
shoulders touching the ground.
Before he could even attempt to rise
Mazagrano placed one knee on his
chest, and, seizing his head with his two
huge hands, was slowly twisting it round
A stihed grosn of agony broke from the
victim, echoed by piercing scream of
despair from the woman. Then the atb-
lete arose, spurning with his foot the in
animate mass.
The soldiers spinal cord was broken.
The woman had fallen forward on her
extended arms. AS the crowd poured
into the tent MaEagrano walked up to
her side, and, with a fierce gesture, lift
ing her head, pointed TO the corpse and
laughed
few minutes later he was surrounded,
pinioned, and handed over to the rural
policeman. He allowed himself to be-
led away without protest, and was i'm
mediately hurried of by the jailor to the
county town, followed by an exulting
group Of boys, and escorted by two men.
who volunteered their services as anna
teur minions OF the law.
There was no third performance in the
booth that night. As the darkness fell
the gIittering candles of the stalls were
lighted; the shooting gallery profited by
the collapse of the rival entertainment,
and was crowded the sale of liquor was
unusually brisk; the stock of the timer
ant vendors disappeared rapidly, and as
it was the last day Of the fair the frolic
was loud and the horseplay boisterous.
In the shadow of the dark and empty
tent, half shrouded by the idly Tapping
canvas Of the entrance. crouched a soil
tary figure, unheeding the laughter and
shouts, the songs and the noise around
her. 1t was the woman who had iuggled
with the weights. She had not changed
her dress-its pitiful fnery hung about
her limbs still-only she had thrown a
cotton apron over her bowed head that
completely hid her face. Her whole
frame was shaken by long, convulsive
sobs.
We're her tears for the living or the
deads-Ernest Mobray in London Budget.