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love the good old trade. Did Gasperone seemed to carry no weapon, but as he meddle with State affairs? Yet, who strode within a yard of our hiding-place like Gasperone? Send us plenty on the I could see a brace of pistols showing roads that we can skin, and let politics their noses from under bis dark-blue go to the great devil!"
vest. He kept a sharp lookout in front, “The five thousand!" repeated Ti- and soon vanished in the direction of berio. "See, the moon is down; why Cecila Metalla's round tomb. do we stand prating? Eh, mio cuore, "Where does he prowl mostly?" I know you not the house dog must be inquired of Carluccia. . To which the fed? Feed me-if not"
answered, “Anywhere between This sudden aposiopesis, or rhetorical Rome and the Montagna del Mattese" pause, seemed to have in it the weight -above Cassino--“but when there is of a cavalry charge. Santa Fiora nothing doing, the lads stanno a casa; groaned like a man whose throat is get- they wait till they get a signal from ting cut; and the reckoning began the capobanda. It is not as in the old again. Carluccio, motionless and at- days, when once a brigand, always a tentive hitherto, signed that we must brigand. Then they lived in the open creep further away, which we did with and enjoyed themselves. Now they infinite precautions. There
must expect the manutengolo to send choking sense of malaria in my mouth, them business." & nausea that I could hardly keep “And Tiberio-Liverno, as you call down. Our clothes were wet with the him-is the manutengolo?" night dews, our limbs benumbed and “But surely! who else? Without him heavy. The sky was opening out in Santa Fiora could do no stroke. He small gleams of dawn, spectral above says true. Have you seen how we this melancholy region, where masses catch birds with a looking-glass and a of irregular and fantastic outline began net in the fields? Liverno is the man to appear more solidly through the that holds glass and net. So he accursed air. We crouched and waited. takes the fat breasts of the birds, and In half an hour we saw, leaping out of we eat their thin legs. Ma pazienza! the ruined columbarium, on the side Will he always have the breasts?" nearest us, Santa Fiora, alone. He
One day, about three weeks after the announcement of the strike in Mr. Watson's shops, Jeanie Casey came to Agnes, and said:
"I have been grieving to tell you, and the sinful pride would not let me speak. But now I will. But you mustn't be thinking how that I wouldn't do the same to morrow if it was to do-for I would.
There is no repentance in me.
But I must be telling somebody. I must."
Agnes put her into an easy chair and took away her hat and jacket and kissed her. Jeanie had grown thin; the large simplicity of her gaze was gone; she looked at Agnes straight and square, but with sternness, and there was a curious rigidity about her mouth.
"She is like the pictures of the old covenanters," thought Agnes, “and perhaps I am to blame." Aloud, she said: “I've tried to see you, Jeanie, sinful woman that I am-verra sinever since the strike began, but you ful.” were always in town, or away some- She fell into a reverie again, and said where getting money; and this week nothing for a long while. At last Ag. we thought Christopher was going to nes touched her hand. have the measles, but he didn't.”
*The Burden of Christopher. By Florence Converse. Copyright, 1900, by Houghton, Mifflin & Jo. Price, $1.50.
"You said you were going to tell me, "I left little Jean with him in the Jeanie.” garden,” said Jeanie; and then she "Yes!-I must be telling somebody." folded her hands and sat still in the The voices of the children came up great chair, and lost herself in her from the garden. There was shouting, thoughts.
and then:"Tell me how you ever persuaded "Stop, Chrissie!--you hurt! Stop!" them to organize,” said Agnes, after a Agnes went to the window and threw few seconds of silence. “It seemed it open. Her son was hauling an unsuch an impossible task."
willing little maiden across the un"For a long time I'd no hope," Jeanie trodden snow. replied. “They were but staring loons "Chris!--Chris!—What are you doing? in the beginning; but there were some Don't be rude! Remember she is a with husbands, and these got into the little girl.” way of talking with them, and of a "We're playing strike, mother, and sudden, whether I would have it or she's a scab, and I'm just giving it to no, the thing spread; and after a bit her. Come away, you mean, old traitor it rolled up like a snowball, verra fast you, I'll teach you to take the bread -too fast. And out of my hand it was; out of my children's mouths!" and I, there, feeling it to slip and could “Don't you think you would better not stop it. Here in Kenyon a woman play something that isn't quite will have a bit time of her own for the rough ?" suggested Agnes. thinking-but there!-And if there's no “I don't want to be a 'cab all the thinking there'll be no doing;-or there- time," protested little Jeanie; “it's your 'll be just blind, crazy doing..".
turn now.” "How do you mean?” said Agnes, un- "I'm not going to be a scab ever, even easily; "don't you approve of this playing,” Christopher cried; and Agnes strike?"
closed the window and left them to “Ay!--of this strike; but that's a settle the matter as best they could. verra different matter."
Jeanie did not seem to have heard the "I don't understand."
controversy, but when their hostess “There was a cut-down; and the came and sat down beside her, she stitchers were fierce to go out for a gathered her thoughts together with an rise. The terrible thing it is, Mrs. Ken- evident effort, and began :yon, to feel the people slip out from the “It's neither here nor there with this power of you, and take their own way. strike, what I'm telling you now; it To hold your hand out in a torrent can mak' no difference one way or anand think to hold the water back, and other to that. It's just for my own feel it over-slip the grasp of you, and self, and that I'm
wanting a never stop for you, nor take notice of friend." you that your hand is there. That is Agnes felt a sense of relief, for which it! But the Lord had an eye to His she reproached herself. She had been poor. He turned the torrent another dreading some revelation which should way. And to me He showed a mercy prejudice the public against the that I am not deserving; for it is a verra strikers.
dear!" she whispered, leave them then, just to the saving of stroking Jeanie's hand.
my one soul?
I'm thinking any way “There was a day, some while back, the Lord wouldn't have great need of —and the forewoman that had left the a soul that could desert his poor, downshop cam' in again to work. The week trodden ones in their straits. I'm thinkbefore that there was the cut-down. ing the Lord will not be hard on me for The woman was a meddling body, but that lie, Mrs. Kenyon." she meant it for her duty. She was a Agnes realized what a pale, untried cruel woman, but God-fearing. Far morality was hers, in her sheltered life. be it fra' such a weak vessel as I to To remonstrate with this burdened sisdetract fra' her. They lie in that shop, ter semed impertinence. Mrs. Kenyon, and they tak’ what does “But if the people who are trying to not belong to them, and they're aye at help this strike should find that the strife one with another. A heart-break- strikers were-did-that sometimes they ing place it is. The forewoman took said what wasn't quite straight,” she notice of me that day for my good, faltered, “I am afraid they might lose quick work, and so she saw the other sympathy." women, how they cam' talking to me, “And how many times, tell me, Mrs. for they were angry with the cut-down Kenyon, has that old man lied to his -and she did but rub them on the raw workers, or made his superintendent places, so they were mad against her, lie to them, or made Annie Curry lie to and crazy for the strike. There was them? Ah, if the people beänt brought not a woman cam' by my chair but up on lies by the ones that pretend to did not stop to complain, railing against be standing for a model to them, do Annie Curry, the forewoman, and de- you think they wouldn't be ashamed to manding the strike. Then Annie Curry lie? But it's give a lie and tak' a lie, cam' beside me and said, 'Where is it till the truth's overlaid so deep, there's that I've seen you?' and I said, 'I don't no man can come at it even with a know;'--it was true-I didn't know. pickaxe." Then she said to me, 'Have you ever "I know, it is our fault," said Agnes, worked in the Kenyon shops?' and I sadly. said, 'No, I never have.'”
"But don't go to fash yourself about "Jeanie!"
this lie, now, Mrs. Kenyon. It has not The Scotchwoman lifted her head a thing to do with the strike. The Lord and looked sternly for a while at her turned the torrent. These women with friend.
their overweaning recklessness made "For four months I had worked Annie Curry suspicious of trade union among these women, Mrs. Kenyon, talk; and you'll be knowing as how early and late, to lead them out of the that Mr. Watson boasts him that he land of Egypt, to learn them the only always had a free shop. And he put way to stand out for their bit bread, - up the notices,--and we all cam' out. when the master cuts and cuts and The women are doing bravely. They'll cuts into the wages. And they were stick to it better than the men, now beginning to understand. If I'd left they have come to it." them then,--all that I'd been at would “You think, then, that a lie is justihave gone for naught. They'd have fiable, sometimes?" questioned Agnes. rioted a bit, and been brought low, She was troubled. and crowded under to worse blackness “I don't know that. But this I know, and worse hunger. They weren't fit to that the Lord will be waiting to the stand alone,-and do you think I'd Judgment Day to say to me, ‘Jeanie,'
will He say, 'Jeanie, I thank you verra
“If that woman had cam' to you," she cried, "and asked of you in my place the question,-and all those poor things with but you to look to, and only half way to knowing how to get out from their slavery, would you have said yes, and let them turn you out? Could you?”
"No," said Agnes, slowly. "No,-1oh, I know I should have told the lie. But it's wrong. We don't know the ways of God, Jeanie; they are not our ways. He could bring success, you know, even if we could not see how it was to come."
"But if it's a mistake I've made, oh, Mrs. Kenyon! The Lord could have
showed me another way, if it had been His will so to do. And if it was all to be done over again, I'd be saying the same words. There's no helping it.”
"I know-I understand," Agnes whispered soothingly.
"I couldn't tell Jimmie, Mrs. Kenyon. And the nights I lie awake with thinking on it, till my thoughts go a-ring-around dizzy. And it's sickened I am to the sight of food. I had to come to speak with you, to share it. But don't be troubled for the strike this strike-there is nothing the lie would have to do with that."
“I hope not,” Agnes said. But she thought of her father, with his passion for accuracy, for moral purity, his instinctive distrust of the workingman, and her heart sank.
BOOKS AND AUTHORS.
Twelve-and-sixpence a page was all Young Mr. MacDonald's first book is that Thackeray received for his con- an adventure story of the days of tributions to Fraser's Magazine.
James II, and is called “The Sword of
the King.” A correspondent of The Academy puts memoirs in three categories: Bi- The industrious press agents who are ographies: Autobiographies: Ought-not- in the habit of heralding the works of to-be-ographies.
that modest author, Miss Marie Corelli,
by a great variety of seductive perThere is said to be no certainty that sonal paragraphs, are doing their work the Tennyson manuscripts recently dis- with more than usual energy just now, covered at Sheffield will be published. possibly because Miss Corelli has two The early drafts of "The Lotus Eaters" books in preparation. It is almost imand “The Lady of Shalott,” which are possible to take up an English literary among them, show many variations journal which does not contain one or from the published text.
more paragraphs relating to Miss Cor
elli. The Century Company is introducing to American readers a son of A love of gems for their own sake Dr. George MacDonald, whose novels not as mere ornaments-is the domi. were once so popular, before the "kail- nant passion of Lady Caryll Knox, yard" school of Scotch novelists arose.
the London beauty who figures as the heroine of Robert Hichens' latest ro- sympathy in the character drawing, mance, "The Slave." The mysterious and the elderly gentleman who is the influence exercised over her by an cause of solicitude in his matrimonial emerald of fabulous value is described quests proves himself after all to be with a variety of incident and a bril- not only more courtly and winning, but liancy of style which leave it to each more deeply kind and simple-hearted reader to determine whether the book than his guardian children. There are is a sensational novel or a psychologi- several pretty love stories in the book, cal study. The sympathetic delineation and it is full of brightness and fun. of life among the young acrobats of the London stage forms a striking con- The three young Hungarian noblemen trast to the rest of the story, and is who are the heroes of Maurus Jokai's perhaps its most notable feature. Her- “The Baron's Sons," are men of strikbert S. Stone & Co.
ingly unlike temperaments, and their
experiences at the time of the revol!ıThe volume by Mr. Macpherson, origi- tion of 1848 are followed with interest. nally announced as “Herbert Spencer's But it is the mother of these sops, tbe Life and Works,” has been changed to dauntless woman who dares to brave "Spencer and Spencerism.” This was her husband's dying wishes, and who at Mr. Spencer's wish, as he was appre- bends all her noble energy toward hensive that the book would be re- making her boys the diametrical opgarded as a biography. The book, posites of what their “stony-hearted" however, has Mr. Spencer's sanction. father planned, who is the most absorb
ingly interesting person in the book. According to the London Publishers' The story is crowded with incident and Circular, nothing has recently been adventure, is vigorous in style, and more remarkable than the public ne- gives an exciting account of life at St. glect of war-books. The production Petersburg and Vienna. L. C. Page & has far outrun the demand. At the Co. beginning of the war extravagant calculations were made. This volume of An intensely exciting novel, based reprinted letters was said to be worth upon a Mexican uprising of fifty years so many thousands sterling, and others ago, is "A Dream of a Throne," by so many thousands more, but in most Charles Fleming Embree, which Little, cases the profits are not to be reckoned Brown & Co. publish. The leader of even in hundreds sterling. Scores of the rising is the last representative of bright young correspondents, who have a royal house, and a young American counted on a revenue from this source, soldier in the employ of the Mexican are doomed to disappointment, as pub- government is the man who hunts him lishers are receiving with coldness down. Excellent foils as these two their propositions.
men are for each other, quite as strik
ing a pair are the two girls, Pepa and The anxiety felt by grown-up sons Clarita, who give unlike allegiance to and daughters for the seemly walk and the two men. It is the equally ardent conversation of their parents is enter- loyalty or treachery of one of these tainingly set forth in Katharine Tynan heroines which harrowingly compliHinkson's "Oh, What a Plague is cates an already dramatic plot. The Love,” which A. C. McClurg & Co. descriptions of a manner of life wholly publish. The story is saved from being foreign to us, the realness of the minor pure farce by unexpected touches of characters, a vigorous picturesqueness,