davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
The herald., 1896-08-23

"Ten London seasons, even more
we're getting very old. Bertha, very, very
old"
"You can be old, il you like" replied Ber-
tha age is no crime in man. But
I'm not old. and I won't be. Ahv' she
sighed. 'If could only be Wilmay for one
season I wonder II she knows what a per-
fectly heavenly time she Is going to have"
Bertha had some grounds for her extra
VACANT praise. Wilmay's beauty was un-
usual and remarkable. In the street, as
she went unconsciously past, people turned
to look at her. In the theatre or at con-
certs, though she dressed quietly and her
own attention was always wholly given to
the play or the music. she made something
like a sensation. That eccentric but charm
ing old lady, Lady Harston, met Wilmay
by chance al Bertha's house and was much
impressed. When she left, sho shook Will
may warmly by the hand. and said, Good
bye, my dear, and thank you
But why do you thank me?" Wilmay
asked
Because have seen the face of an an
GEL
Wilmay asked me afterwards what she
had meant. told her that did not knew,
The herald., 1896-08-23

"I'n sixteen. please, Edward. No, that's
NOT ripht-f'm in my seventeenth year"
"And I'm really in my thirty-ninth, and
I'm considered to be young for my age
have always felt young until now. Now
feel that l am one hundred and four. see
the babe for which | bought Chocolates
But, Edward" Interrupted Wllmay' Il
was not a babe. l was ten years old.
"A very young ten, and wore on the oc-
casion when l first met you-a somewhat
unconventional costume"
Wilmay laughed and blushed. 1t was as
though someone had given her the power of
blushing for birthday present-she had
never been in the least self-conscious be-
fore.
"And now" / said, "what a change is
here!"
mot really changed" Wilmay pleaded
"My hairs done differently, and I've got
new dress but I'm still just the same-the
same but in disguise"
But she was not just the same-and she
was never just the same again. The twi-
light of childhood was passing, and the
dawn was coming-the dawn, and the day
and the night.
ne dlnner was amusing enough bsitn
was always more or less. bright woman.
Wilmay laughed. more quietly-it seemed
to me-than usual, and talked less. Some
of the things she said were serious to the
verge of sentimentality, and of course we
laughed at her for them mercilessly. She
had been reading stories and seeing plays
and she said that it seemed as If life were
very sad but that the sadness was in some
ways rather nice. And then she was COM
PEELED to laugh at herself.
Bertha said that I was not to be long over
my cigarette, because l was going to play
to them.
NO think not" said. Your pianos
never in tune. And you cover it with
sort of brocade table-cloth, pot-palms, pho
tographs, majolica and mess generally. be-
cause you think it looks pretty"
The herald., 1896-08-23


lnfinitesimal things that Bertha would
laughed at. Indeed, Bertha herself had
partly explained the tone of Wilmay's let
ter
A week later the engagement was public
ly announced; the marriage was to take
place six months afterwards. Will
may had written to me frequently since
had left England, often upbraiding me for
stopping away so long, asking me why
did it, and telling me to come back. Now
in three months had only two short notes
from her. They were written far less free
ly and Familiarity than her old letters, and
though there was an assumption of light
heartedness all through them, they did not
give me the impression that she was happy.
As the six months drew to an end l heard
very little of Wilmay. The trousseau was
being purchased, preparations were being
made for the marriage wedding presents
were pouring in; Wilmay had no time to
write, and Bertha only sent short scrappy
notes written in the greatest haste. 1t was
about three weeks before the wedding that
returned to England to complete some
necessary business arrangements.
l arrived in London in the morning.
had not told Bertha what day l should
come, but in the afternoon I started out to
call on her. 1t was bright sunny after
noon, and 1 found the walk through the
| park pleasant after the hour that / had
just spent in a dry solicitors dusty Office
AS l walked along Bertha's victoria met
me. Bertha and Wilmay were both in it,
and neither of them saw me. Wilmay was
lang ching That laiph nv
lerything was all right then, and had been
worrying myself for nothing.
AS Bertha and Wilmay were both out, It
was obviously of no good to go on to Ber-
tha's house. To sit in her mistaken draw
| ingroom and wait for her would have
been merely tiresome. So 1 went back
home, meaning to call on Bertha again later
in the afternoon. My fiat is on the first floor.
and as walked up the steps to it, passed
a handsome middle-aged gentleman, who
was peering about him uncertainty. He
caught me up again on the landing, Just as
l drew my latch-key from my pocket, star
ed at me hard, and then raised his hat
| Il think" he said that must be speak,
ng to Mr.. .Derrmer-Mr.E Edward Derrimer."
Eyes," I said, that is my name"
He was carefully dressed, and rather gave
me the idea that all his clothes were abso-
lutely new. His hair was dark brown, and
beginning to grow gray he wore a short
waxed moustache, and touched the ends Of
it nervously from time to time. His deep
set blue eyes watched me narrowly He be-
gan to pull card-case from his pocket, and
| then said
"But think you must know me, Mr..
Derrimer.''
'It's objectionable, but my memory"
The herald., 1896-08-23

OF things ancient and modern, and, just as
much too full and too feminine as every
other drawingroom in the district. Then
Bertha enter ed looking mysterious and
pleased which she was, and much younger
than thirty-five, which she was not. She
shook me warmly by the hand kissed me,
and exclaimed: Edward, we've got sur
prise for your
"Yes?' | SAID. "Then, of course, you
needn't trouble 10 apologize
why, I've hardly kept you waiting
second. The fact is that it didn't come un-
til the last moment-oh, I've nearly let the
secret out.'
Let it quite out. You won't be happy
until you've done it Besides, l hate sur
prses They're all alike-something goes
pop and hurts you, and then everybody else
laughs. I think they're shockingly vulgar
myself
But this surprise isn't nt all like that
It's beautiful
"Wel bows Wilnay? And where's
Wilmay?"
"Wlmay's very we'll indeed, and quite
charmed with your present, and you won't
tee her just yet-thats part Of the secret"
you've hidden her behind a curtain or
screen or somewhere. And she'll jump out
and scream, and the ghastly part of it is
that you'll both Of You think it funny. When
is it going to happen?"
Carter announced that dinner was served.
"Its not going to happen at all, and VIII
mays much too old to care about such
stupid childish games. Take me into the
dining and you shall behold her.
In the dining-room Wilmay was stand
Ing at one end of the table. She was a trans
formed Wilmay. Hitherto she had worn
her hair down; now her hair was up and
done in the latest and correctest fashion.
Hitherto, on the occasions when she had
dined downstairs with Bertha and myself.
she had worn something which l called
"kids compromise" but believe is known
as demi-toilette
Now she was in regular dinner-dress,
white, low and long. Round her neck was
the string of pearls that 1 had given her.
She looked very shy and rather pleased;
she smiled and blushed. l made a low
obeisanee, kissed her hand, and begged to
be allowed the honor Of congratulating Miss
Amory on her birthday.
Wilmay was protesting, and thanking me
A"l tHc PSoilS as we sat uOWn 10 dinner,
Wlmay, as my sister had arranged, took
the place Of the hostess, and Bertha and
myself sat on either side Of her.
"Well?" said Bertha, land what might
my lord the guardian happen to be think
ing of us?''
''At the first shock-I mean, at the first
enchantment-Is can think only of myself
Wilmay, tell the truth. How old are you?"
The herald., 1896-08-23
TELEGRAPHY OF SAVACEs

by what occult means do barbarians
transmit news with almost the raDidity
or lightning? Again and again has this
puzzled the advance forces Ct civiliZa-
ton. In the Soudan where the worlds In
terest centers now: with the Indians, on
the western frontiers of the United
States among the Eskimos Of Alaska
III fact with savages in nearly every
quarter of the globe, the facility with
which Information is spread far and wide
IS marvellous. Only with the utmost diff
ficulty has the intelligence department Of
the British army learned Of the move
ments of the dervishes. The Egyptians
and the other native allies of the Eng
lish army seem not to have been possess
ors of the dervishes' secret modes. On
the other hand, Mohammedans every
where were informed Of the advance up
the Nile of the Anglo-Egyptlan army.
No more pilgrims are going to Mecca but
ali are flocBing to the green standard Of
the khalifa.
Long before the tidings of the Custer
massacre reached Fort Abraham Lincoln
the Sioux had spread it among their bre-
thren Of the northwest. The scouts in
Crooks column to the south knew of IL
in day or two and those with Gbbon.
farther northwest, were not long with
out the information. Terry's Crow
scouts told their chief the next day, and
the story was discredited Two DAYS
later when Terry reached the battlefield.
he found his scouts had not exaggerated,
In Alaska several years ago a naval
lieutenant on exploration ran short Of
PROVISIONS. He pushed on toward a set
tlement, reducing rations every hour.
When he reached there he found the in
habltants had provided against his COM
ing and had n hounteous store awaiting
MN. The people in the village were Of
a different tribe from those through whose
domain he had passed, and so far as he
could learn were not in communication
with them.-New York Press.
The herald., 1896-08-23
Ito be Contlnued.)
TWINS ARE NOT POPULAR.

When They Appear in an Indian Camp One
of Them Is Killed
The following true story of Indian life Is
told by an Arizona prospector and describes
one of the queer superstitions of a barbaric
tribe: I'm January, 1856. l was crossing a
desert with team. 1t Is necessary to car
ry water across the plain, and had good
supply in a barrel on the wagon. Every
thing was going along in good shape until
nearly noon. when an accident resulted in
the loss of every drop of water we had II
was impossible to proceed further without
water, and yet to remain thera would be
equally serious. We did our best Along
in the evening l was picked up by band
of Apaches in an almost exhausted condi-
tion. They gave me water and one young
couple who seemed to be superior in intel
ligence fed me.
81 however. did not have my full senses
The terrible strain on dry alkili plain with
out water and in the burning sun was
Nenough to turn ones brain. Indians are
superstitious, illogical and childish to a de-
gree which no civilized man has any con-
ception This was to my advantage. They
thought me insane, and as they regarded
one out OF his mind as something super
natural and to be revered, they treated me
with the greatest kindness. ! did not trust
the Indians hence when | began to recover
my mental balance | tried to give no out.
ward evidence Of this fact, and wandered
among them in solitary and speechless
manner. l was shamming to get away all
the time.
"A few days after my arrival at camp
twin boys were born to the young wife Of
the Indian who had fed me and cared for
me. This is not any more uncommon
among the Indians than elsewhere, and al
though the red man is passionately fond Of
children. yet the appearance OF twins and
crazy man. as they regarded me, forbode
them evil, and the medicine man said that
the squaw was witch and that she and her
infants must be sacrificed. Melo pleaded
for his wife without avail. She did not
attempt to escape. l was not yet able to
understand the Indian language and it was
some time before l was aware Ef what
troubled my young friends and only a few
hours remained before the mother and her
children would be burned.
Il made my escape and succeeded In
reaching the agency. Here. with much trou-
BILE, secured detachment of cavalry and
led them back to the Indian camp. I had no
hope of being in time. but, fortunately. the
chief had eaten something that did not
agree with him and the sacrifice was post
poned few hours. When we rode up the
noise of the beating tomtoms and the sing
ing of dancers drowned out the sound of our
approach. In the distance we could see the
young wife and her two children being
driven into her shack and the warriors with
burning frebrands gradually closing in to
ignite the funeral pile. At this moment we
were discovered and the dance was brought
to standstill. The presence of the troop
ers was sufficient l persuaded Melo and
his wife to return to Phoenix with me-
They have lived there since and aided me
in gaining knowledge of the Apaches."
The herald., 1896-08-23

Perhaps, I should have said that you
must have heard OF me. Wilmay would
not recall me. but Philip Amory. who was
very, very kind to me-though in some re-
spects he sadly misunderstood me-inust
have mentioned my name"
In a second the scene flashed back on my
memory. I saw myself sitting in the libr
ary at Sinden, with the table drawn up near
to the window, and the lighted lamp on 1t.
reading that letter of Philips to me. The
phrase adopt quite different course
came back to me.
held out my hand. "You are Wilmay's
uncle?''
He bowed and smiled. II am. l have
been particularly anxious to see you. 1
thought 1t best to see you first"
won't you come in?" l said And we
passed together into the room used as my
study.
The herald., 1896-08-23
Copyright 1896; by the Bachelor Syndicate.
SYNOPSIS.

SYNOPSIS.
Philip Amory, when only twenty years
old. suddenly gives up his course at Cam
bridge, and leaves England for Queensland.
His friend, Edward Derrlmer, the narrator
of the story, advises against 1t TO no pur-
pose and surmises that there Is woman
in the case. He receives few letters from
Amory. in one Of which the latter mentions
his marriage. Derrimer learns OF the
wifes death a year later. Ten years pass
by. and then Derrimer receives an invita-
ton to visit the returned Amory and MS
child Wilmay at Sinden, an estate near Ay-
shurst in Buckinghamshre, which Is ia
miliar to the friends and which Amory
has purchased Derrimer finds that Wilmay
is a remarkable little girl, and that Amory
Is educating her chiefly by letting her alone.
Derrimer makes friends with Wllmay, ana
O serves in her notable traits or charactef
Three or four years later when Wllmay IS
fourteen, Derrimer invites her father and
her to visit him at his cottage on the
Thames. The day of their expected arrival
he receives telegram from Amory sum-
moning him to Slnden. He goes to Sinden
and finds that Amory has been run away
with and fatally injured. Amory leaves
his fortune to Wilmay and makes Derrimer
her guardian. Derrimer places her in the
care Of his sister, Mrs. Enterland, who takes
charge OF her education. On Wilmay's six
teenth birthday Derrimer dimes with his
sister and Wiimay at Mrs, Enterland's
house.
The herald., 1896-08-23

Speak to him, Wilmay!" said Bertha.
Explain to him.
The pianos perfectly all right, Ed
ward" said Wilmay, laughing, "and you
may have the things taken off it, if you
i like. But while you're in my house, you're
; eXpected-to-to behave as such.'
| 81 accept the rebuke in the spirit in which
it is offered, and in five minutes 1 will do
myself the honor to wait upon you-as my
| tailor says
! But when I got into the drawing room,
! somehow or other we all three began to
/ talk, and we went on talking until 1 rose
| to go. l had promised to meet some men
at the club. Then Wilmay said that l must
stop a little longer and play, because it was
her birthday. So I stopped and played them
! Chopin waltzes and nocturnes, and they
went through the usual raptures. 1t was
| late rather, when at last / stood in the hall
putting on my coat. Wilmay followed me
from the drawing-room into the hail.
Has Mr. Derrmer's cab got a lamp in
| side it?" she asked Carter. Carter believed
so. 'Then," she said, giving me a little
note, ''you may have this to read as you go
home. Goodnight again..
| The note ran as follows:
! Dear Edward, I am writing this in my
bedroom before dinner. I know I shan't be
able to thank you half enough for those
! lovely pearls, and I want to thank YOU
again and again. You are always so kind to
! me.
| Ever your loving, Wilmay"
! put the note in my pocket. For few
| minutes l unused absent-mindedly, and
| then I noticed that the cab had nearly
| reached the club. l made the man turn
| round and drive me home, instead.
The herald., 1896-08-23
CHAPTER VIII

Bertha did not bring Wilmay out, definite
ly and formally, until she was seventeen.
During the year before l had got into the
habit of going rather often to Bertha's.
Bertha loved good music for ten minutes.
It was essential that the music should be
good, and that it should not last longer than
ten minutes So she used to send me with
Wilmay to st. James Hall, while she en-
joyed at home what she called ''the rare
luxury Of not hearing a concert" Some
times rode in the Park with Wilmay. In
one way and another l saw a good deal of
her.
Bertha was widening the scope of her
ambition for Wilmay
You may not know it," she said to me-
but Wiln1ay is probably at this moment
the most beautiful girl in the world"
Il don't know all the Others" l said
. But Wilmay looks all right"
Looks all right! I've been through ten
London seasons without seeing anything
like hee
The herald., 1896-08-23
HOLLOW BRICK.

Hollow Brick, it is said, are coming In.
to more general use in eastern cities and
quite number Of large buildings have
been built with tk1m. They crush at
10000 pounds, or about the pressure
which the best solid brick stand. They
are made SxSx12, with walls one inch
thick. It is claimed that they cost one
third less than the regular form, maxi
ing walls proof against fire, moisture and
frost, being warm in winter and cool in
summer. They require peculiar clay
in their manufacture, one that will not
shrink when dried or burned. Tho h"'H'y
are set on end, thus making q wall hol-
low from top to bottor'
The herald., 1896-08-23
CALITORNIA's ONLY PRIVATE. !,


Among the countless numbers of men
who have served in the civil war and now
revel in military titles of all descriptions
it is refreshing to meet with man who
will plainly tell you that his name is
Mr." and that he served from begin
ming to end Of the bloody campaign as a
full-blown private. OF that description is
John j. Scrivner, the well-known San
Francisco attorney.
When the war broke out Mr.. Scrivner
enlisted in the confederate service and
went through the entire war, laying
down his arms at its close with the hum
bic rank Of private that was assigned to
him on enlisting. He now enjoys the
reputation among his fellows of being the
only man that has vet been discovered
in the state of California who served
throughout the war and yet possesses no
gorgeous appendage to his name. 1t
used to be customary in the SOUTH when
veteran met veteran, for some title to
pass between the two.
Well, Scrivner was opposed to this prin-
ciple, and was fortunate enough TO
escape involuntarily dignity until one
memorable occasion, not long ago, when
he was conducting case up in Butte
county. The legal luminaries of the dis
trict showed him some hospitality, 'and,"
as he afterwards expressed it. in relat-
ing the circumstance to Judge Hunt, lone
day I was introduced to a southerner by
an idiot who said, Mr.. SO and So, this is
Major Scrivner'
II felt mad, but had not time torep-
rmand my introducer, nor to explain
~
shaking hands with the southerner, who
eyed me narrowly.
"'You served in the confederate army,
major?" he asked.
81 did, replied.
"T was in the confederate army my
self, SIR returned the southerener, and
I'm pretty well up in the army list. What
branch of the service were you attached
to-"
"'The artillery replied. longing that
he would give me chance to explain.
But he kept right on.
"'Under what general sir, may / ask?
"'Under General Gordon By this
time 1 was feeling mighty uncomfortable
as my southern friend was bent on draw
ing me out.
"Major,' he said, I'm pretty familiar
with the names Of all the leading artil-
lery officers in the confederate service
during the wah. May ask you, sir, how
many guns were under your commando
81 assure you, judge, never felt SO
mad in my life. Here was /, a man who
always avoided notoriety, who served his
time in the war and did his duty without
ostentation, who never sought a military
title but always scared off my friends
from addressing me by one; and yet,
owing to my bungling, id good-natur-
ed friend, being catechised by an entire
stranger upon title l never assumed.
However, 1 was bridled up, and looking
my catechiser full in the eye, said:
"'Guns be ID, sir! served through
the entire wah, sir, in command Of one
gun, and that 1 carried over my shoulder
That's 30, by God, STRIP
The herald., 1896-08-23
PART III.
CHAPTER VII.

"Mrs. Enterland desired me to say, sir,
that she would be down directly said
Carter as he opened the drawing-room door.
Carter and Mrs Blayd had both been talk
en- into my sisters service - Carter. of
course as butler and Mrs. Blayd as maid
to Wilmay and housekeeper, occasional
secretary and several other things, to my
sister. She had no fixed position, and my
sister said that she was a treasure
I waited a few minutes in the drawing
room. 1t was the usual fashionable mixture