The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-08-23


 licious tales to the master. The wicked old rascal even stole her books and de- stroyed them. It was evident that Heath cliff was bent on crushing her spirit and making her hopeless, miserable and sul- len woman.
 In all Wuthering Heights there was only one heart that was friendly. That was Hareton Earnshaw grown into hand some, sturdy fellow for all the rustic garb and his ignorance. But she repelled his advances till he withdrew into the sullki- ness that he had learned from his sur roundings In moments of passion he even swore at her. For all that, he began se- cretly to learn to read, and timidly en- deavored to copy her manners at table and to make himself more presentable.
 One day his gun burst on the moors and he was kept at home by his injury. In that time Catherine, lonely, weary and discouraged, unbent toward him. She began to read to him. The next day she offered to teach him. The intimacy thus begun grew rapidly. Though Earnshaw was not to be civilized with a wish, their minds tended to the same point One low ing and desiring to be esteemed, the other desiring to esteem, they contrived to reach 1t.
 Brightness returned to Catherine's cheek. She recovered enough of her old brave spirit to defy Heathcliff when he was in his black humor. Once, when she had been particularly daring and con- temptous, he stepped toward her with the evident design of striking her. Sud- denly a change seemed to come over his face as he looked into her undaunted eyes. He drew his hand over his brow and turned silently away.
 Some months afterward he came On them suddenly as they sat in the kitchen reading together. The frelight shone on their young heads. Hareton Earnshaw's brightening mind had brought nobility and spirit to his face; and Catherines beauty had become mature and singularly like that of her mother.
 He started toward them to drive Hare ton from the room as he had done mora than once since he had discovered their growing friendship. But they turned, and the ruddy light fell full on their faces, he stopped. and again he drew his hand over his forehead.
 A strange change had come over him, and he was conscious of it and puzzled angrily by 1t. With all desire still to en- joy his malignant revenge, he had lost the power of finding pleasure In it. Hareton Earnshaw's features had grown more and more amazingly like those of Catherine Earnshaw in her youth. The resemblance tortured him, yet he could not force him. self to drive the young man away from his sight
 How fearfully his face connects him with Catherine" he muttered. Yet what does not recall her to me? The entire world is a dreadful collection of remind CTS to me that she did exist and that have lost her! To revenge myself for her loss get levers and mattocks to demolish two houses, and when everything Is ready and in my power I cannot arouse myself to raise my hand! Oh. God! It is long fight. I wish it were over!"
 He took to wandering around day and night, with no distinct objective point ex- cept one-Catherine's grave. He took less and less food. When he slept, 1t was in the old room once occupied by Catherine Earnshaw. At last one morning he came down, his cheeks hollow, his eyes blood shot, but with wild, excited glitter in them
 q am happy, happy he said to Nelly Dean. He was gazing f1xedly at some thing that seemed within a few feet of him. Whatever it was that he saw, 1t brought anguish and yet rapture to hls face. Even while he spoke his eyes pur- sued it. Nelly Dean besought him to eat and placed food before him. He stretched his hand out to reach it, but his fingers clenched and remained on the table, for getful of their aim, while his eyes fol- lowed the unseen object.
 My souls bliss kills my body, said be- And that reminds me of the way 1 wish to be buried. I want my coffin to be laid alongside of hers. have already had it made so that the side nearest to her can be slid out. And night dug down to her and broke out the side In hers, so that we can be together. If you neglect to carry out my wishes l will prove to you that the dead are not de- stroyed!''
 That night he betook himself again to Catherines old room; and there they found him next morning, dead, with a frightful lifelike look of exultation.
 None wept over him except poor Hare- ton, the most wronged by him. He was buried as he had wished. He had bribed the sexton to carry out his design or mingling his dust with Catherine's.
 For many, many years afterward, the country people were willing to swear on the Bible that he walked" Old Joseph always vowed that he often saw him and Catherine looking out of the window of her chamber. But the stranger, going into that quiet churchyard at Gimmerton, and looking down on the three head stones, side by side, with the names of Edgar Linton, Catherine Linton and Heathcliff under that benign sky, with the soft wind breathing through the grass, might as well wonder how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
 Next Sundays one-page classic will be "Wing and Wing" by James Fenimore