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c an? BARRIERSISfAW Y No other moment in the course of a woman‘s life is fraught with such sig- nificance, both in anticipation and retrospection. as the one which eon- tains an offer of marriage. ably the'basis of civilized society, it is certainly the culminating point of all stories, and the points of scenic ar- rangement and dramatic effect receive much attention from romance writers. In fact I am free to confess that I hail not reached my twentieth birthday without having occasionally dreamed of the hour when Sir Lnuncelot woulu come riding down. I even pictured in fancy the gorgeous drawing-room (not our own) or the romantic glen, when a manly voice should repeat nonsense and plead for the boon of my regard. He should plead in right good earnest, too, for it was my privilege to be de- llghtt’ully cruel once in my life. The girl of the period is much too easily won to be valued. My lovcr should fully appreciate the worth of my con- sent, it would be so long withheld. But in my most improbable fancies I had never imagined the possibility that upon a wild and terrible February night. on the way home from the lec- ture of a popular humorist, as we clung together and hobbled over the Icy pavement. Frank Moore should remark, in his usual terse, practical manner: "I’ve been promoted. Kate, I’m Junior partner now, and father has given me entire charge of the ware‘ house. That means a great deal to me now." “I suppose so.” I answered. upon balancing myself. "Yesâ€"hadn't we better take the middle of the street here ?â€"it means enough for two. if she isn’t killing extravagant. I shall go east the first of April. Can you get ready to go with me by that time ?" The suddenness of the suggestion and the high wind took my breath, but I was able to answer with great dignity, "No, I think not.” “First of May, then ?" "No. sir." “Good heavens! You don't mean to say that you won‘t have me, Katie?" Why couldn’t be call me Katherine. as I made every one else do, and spell it with a K? “You don't mean to say thought I would ‘2” intent that you rather " Why, no, Iâ€"wellâ€"yes. I thought that you might." I could not see Freds face in the Egyptian darkness: the little quiver in his voice I did not notice until I recalled it afterwards. We were both so occupied in keeping our equilibrium that neither could analyze the mental ,state of the other. We walked on in silence, and I was obliged to depend upon Fred's sustaining arm more than ever. I wondered if he had expected me to be so anxious to take the “trip” with him. that I could accept his loveless, unromantic proposition. How I wished that I could tell him that my heart was another's, but it wasn’t. and he knew it. I might have said in calm kindness that we should always be friends as in the past, but. he gave me no opportunity. His only further remark being, “What a thundering night!” a striking figurative one, by the way. And I vowed a vow. in the depth of my injured fancy, that before I said "Yes" to Fred Moore that easy-going.r young gentleman should literally go down upon his knees in the most ap- proved manner, and tell me that he worshipped the ground I walked upon, and that his only hope of life was in my smile. I meant that he should do it, too. If I was not too lightly Won, neither was I to be lightly dropped. He left me at my door with a quiet "Good-night, Katie." and a moment later I heard the great hall»door of the Moore mansion slam with much energy, and then the wellâ€"known light appeared in his own room. Mother looked up as I entered, and asked, “Why didn’t Fred come in ‘3" "I didn't ask him,” I returned shortly. “Don't you thin/r you treat Fred ratlierâ€"wellâ€"childishly for your age ? more. and yet you tilt and quarrel as you did ten years ago." "Fred Moore is the most disagree- able young man in town. He is a perfect bear and I detest him," I exclaimed, unbuttonlng my boots with a. vigor that sent the buttons flying across the room. “Katherine!” cried inanima. “you are abusing your most faithful friend. He has been like a. brother to you for years. You owe him too much to say any such thing." "I know he has teased and worried and scolded me as devotedly as the most horrid brother would have done." “Katherine, you shall not go to that skating rink another night. It makes you nervous and cross all the time. I knew you couldn't stand it." I vouchssfeu no reply, but stretched out my slippered feet to the fire and meditated. We sat in silence for nearly half an hour. At the end of that time there was a ring at the door-bell, and when I opened the door there stood Fred Moore. A dash of triumph came over me. It ls probâ€" ‘ a girl of:‘ as the waves beat against. it. You are not children any. lkle had come again. I knew he Would. Now he should tiilille luvc in the most approved manner. and he would, for he looked so grave and resolute. Ht: stepped into the hall, saying, “I came over to give the warn- ing. Ilob has just telephoned up to get ready for a ilood. The river is on a tear and is rising fast, It will be as bad as it was last year, and per- haps woise.” "‘b’ut it won‘t come up to Third SLJ'UL‘L,” I said. It is over Second now, and rising. Front and First are feet under. I: is coming fast. Pull up your car- Six pets, there's no time to lose. I will get help for the piano and heavy things if I can, but there‘s such a panic, I may not be able to. Hurry now,” and he vanished into the dark» ness. V\'e tired to think of the most im- portant things to do, but found ourâ€" selves with trembling, uncertain haste. doing the least necessary. Fred returned very soon with two or three strong men, and under his quick. businessâ€"like directions, preparations were made like magic. The piano was liorsted into wooden chairs. the library taken apart and packed upon the din- ingâ€"table, the carpets were piled upon these, and the parlor furniture was carried upstairs. Maiiiiiia and I busâ€" led ourselves in carrying provisions and cooking utensils up to my room, which had a grate, the others hem; heated by registers. In tlventy min- utes the cozy sitting-room looked like the debris of a hurricane. Then a tlzin stream of water came under the front hall-door, for our house was low and old-fashioned. Fred' turned to mother on the stairs, saying: “Mothâ€" er is anxious to have you come over and stay with us until the danger is over. She does not consider it safe for you to stay here alone, es« pecially as you are so delicate, Mrs. Burnett.” Mother was about to accept the invi- tation, but I answered from the top stair, “Oh, no, we shouldn’t think of such a thing. We are perfectly safe here, and we have everything we shall need.” "You will both get sick or lone- some,” said Fred. pulling his cap over his eyes, and looking at mamma. “No. we are accustomed to living alone. You had better come up- stairs, mamma, I urged.” She came, reluctantly, up a step or two. Fred came upon the lower step. "I shall leave my window open, Mrs. Burnett. It is not over ten feet from yours and if you should want help just make a noise. I shall hear you. Good night." “We shan't disturb you, my dear boy, we are so much indebted to you already." said mother in her sweet voice. “I shall not try to thank you,” and she took both his hands and look- ed into his face. He blushed like a girl. and dropped his eyes. “Good night; call me if you need help.” \N'hen we were alone in the black- ness of the night, with the water climbing up the starway and beat- ing against the doors, I could have cried out in my longings for the suf- ficient presence that had been our re- liance for so many years. What would life be to mother and me with- out Fred Moore '3 One foot on the parlor floor stood the water, two feet, three! and the piano began to float; the library was bumping around the diningâ€"room. The current had grown swift in the street and all night long came cries for help from boatmen who were upset by the whirlpool at the corner lamp-post. We could not sleep, but. like thou, sands of others. sat by the fire and awaited the worst all that weary Thursday night. It did not take many of those wait- ing hours to show that I had loved Fred Moore all my life. A ciiildisli terror lest he should die or be drown- ed or go away before I could see him overcame me. Higher and higher swept the flood. Another foot would reach the parlor ceiling. The frail old house shivered At last the gray, awful dawn of that Febru- ary morning revealed the "abomina- tion of desolation" that had been wrought by the angry river. A turâ€" bid yellow lake lay between us and the brown tops of the hills~a lake that was navigated by a. pitiful fleet of lost. houses, homes to which some of the inmates were yet clinging as they swept on to destruction. How long before our home would be swept from its foundation and swept down the river ‘2 Mother looked wistfully at the staunch brick walls only twelve feet away, but twelve miles would not have seemed farther then. She busied herself about with the calm adaptability of her na- ture. It was hard to think that she had ever cooked upon anything but a smoky grate, or used 8. larger table than the toilet stand that she spread with a towel. Suddenly she gave a cry of alarm. "We forgot the bread, dear." “Make pancakes, then. I brought up flour," 1 suggested, in my miserable idleness, as I curled up my hair. “Did you think of baking powder?" “No, nor soda." breakfast "\Vllflt shall we do ?" "llcllo," (-iicd .i voice. I ran to U. window. "llow are you this line morning Liut plcnty to eat " called l.“l'0ul fr in. .25 win-low. “0. Full, we havcii't ponder, l'l ll‘ lircziii, and we‘re hungry] You shall have some of our biscuits, any bakiu . Llnil; \xc have a store," and lie van l‘llt‘ll, icnppcaring with .i [Clllllllll»‘ i-latcl‘ul of hot rolls. "Now (uitt‘h them or starve," llv l‘;lllL*ll. as one by one he tired then. lnio my hands with the accuracy oi .l lJ.lSulitIll pitciicr. "Shall call for you to take a “illll this morning; don't forget your rub» licis, ii dump." This was an ex» ample of the execruble jokes that flew back and forth during the day; blll they hall a mission, for shoun.‘ have died of pure misery if we liailn'l joked. A slow i'cll most of the \lily, and the river rose several inches liclore nightfall. We slept that night from sheer ex» liauslion, and the next morning luck» ed upon the terrible flood that had \\' L‘. ruin wrought such l’i:|\Oc. Our own hastily-gathered supplies begun to fill, and we hailed the news that the Go\eriiinent boat was on its way up the river. and the sufferers would be fed. We had not yet conâ€" sidered ourselves sufferers. Looking out at a sound, we saw Fred shove a long plank from his bay-window to our verandali roof and walk across upon it. Tapping at the window he entered, saying: “Mrs. Burnett"â€"all his communica- tions were addressed to mamma now â€"“father telephoned up from the of- fices that the relief boat is making such waves that all the lower houses are carried from their foundations we are afraid that yours is not quite safe. You must come over right away. Gather up what you can carry and I will come back for more. Be quick.” We made no resistance this time. but went, momma first, and I the second trip, trembling over the plank. clinging to the strong arm of our rescuer. How good the Moores had always been to us. ‘When Fred put his arm around me to help me in at the window I wanted to tell him how sorry and ashamed I was for my speech of Thursday night, but he helped me down and hurried back for some of our treasures. The house was rocking plainly nowâ€"it swayed with every wave. “Oh! Fred. Fred. come back; it is not safe." I called. He came to the window in answer to my call. “Dear old home,” moaned mamma. “I was married there, and my childâ€" ren were born and died there, and husband lay in that very room," and she waved her hand in a pitcous fareâ€" well. I am afraid my own feelings wavered between sentiment and re- gret for my paintings and my new black silk. just home from the dress- maker’s. Fred stepped out upon the roof with his arms full of goods, and be- fore he could put his foot upon the plank the house gave a lungs and a groan, and, careening upon the side, swept out toward the street. I shut my eyes and screamed, while Mrs. Moore dropped upon her knees in an agony of prayer. Surely no experience in after life can equal the anguish of the next half hour, and when we sawâ€" I-low convenient to be limited by facts! I could describe a very graceful scene. as my lover, borne in with dripâ€" ping locks and pallid face, if left to my fancy. But to say that he pad- dled up to the window alone, in Mr. Murray's waterâ€"trough, and was so completely encased in coating of mud that he was unrecognizable, seemed so ludicrous that our sobs of joy can-‘ not be understood. He disdained our open arms and growled. “You women get out of my room, or I won't get in. Camphor sling beâ€"be condemn- ed. Get out, I‘m freezing on the roof." then, in addition to having nlallllllu. crippled with rheumatism, and Mrs. Moore and her servant girl Sick with colds, we knew, in a few hours. that Fred. our rock of help, must go down into the Valley of the Shadow with pneumonia. Soon after his icy bath his fever had risen, and I could hear his hoarse whisper as I passed in the hall. What if she should die with my cruel words yet in his ears! \Vas it on my account that he lay in danger? “O. my darling! my darling!" I .vliispered over and over again, and I resolved that I would see him before the worst came. “0, Kate. is my splendid boy to be taken from me?" cried Mrs. Moore, putting her niotlierly arm around me. How could I tell her the truth, that I had dared to throw away that good, true life, when it was offered to poor little me ? Three agonizing days fol- lowed in which his life hung by :i thread, and one night every one els> was worn out and I had to be asked to sit by him. How I had longed to do it. and yet when the worn-out mother left at midnight and I stole into the dim room, I trembled from head to foot. There was something awful in the sight of the tall. fine form stretched upon the bed, weak and helpless. the sufl‘icient hands idly mov- ing upon the spread. He turned his head wearlly once or i\\'it.'C. Then the brown .nd looked at me. eyes “Kate !" opera): Already two summers have flown since the tlood. but the water marks "Your mother has gone to get some can yet be traced all over the valley. rest," I explained. "Poor mother!" After a pause-â€" ‘ix’atie, you had better go to bed. I .lon't need any one here. It is night. isn't it 7“ "Let me stay. Fred. I want to takc cure of you a little. I am so sorry for you." "Never mind, I'll be all right in .- .l:iy or two.” "Fredâ€"" "\Vliat is it '2” "I am sorry for what I said the other night." “That's all right, Katie. Don't worry. I had to speak and you had to answer. it is over nowâ€"almost." Clearly the wooing would not be on Fred's side. lie turned his pale face away with a pathetic quiver of the lip and blinking of the eye that wrung my heart. I sat upon the side of the bed and touched the limp hand he.- side me. The situation was growing desperate. I had not anticipated this, at all. “But, Fred, I am sorry I answered." “No. Katie." lie spoke with short breath and painfully. “I‘m sorry. too. for something, but upon my hon- or it never occurred to me. nopolized you for a long time, and have never given other fellows, bet- ter ones, perhaps, a chance to know you, and some of the boys were wild about you, too. And I'm I‘ve inoâ€" not JnsL the sort of a man you would care for, ‘ I see now. of course, we all that you could marry anybody. You’re the prettiest and sweetest girl in Centreport, and I had no business of taking possesison of you without finding out how you liked me. But if you’ll forgiveâ€"â€"” "Don‘t say that! I don't want any- body else. I love you. Dear Fred, I have loved you all my life, truly I have, and if you will only get wellâ€"" “Katie.” in a. tone of quiet increduâ€" lity that sent the hot blood up to the roots of my hair, “I am afraid that your sympathy has made you say some- thing that you will regret some day." and he looked at me eagerly in the dim light. “0, you are cruel to make me say so much. You know that I have loved you always. I couldn't live without you.” I hid my burning face in my hands. but he took them in his and looked at me steadily. although I could‘ feel the quivering of his fingers. “0, my love, is that true ? ed little girl at last 1” He closed his eyes for a moment, and then said, as he laid my hands upon his forehead, “Would you mind kissing me, clear. just for once ?" When he fell asleep, soon after, I watched for the dawn in a reaction of iappilles‘s as great as the sorrow of the past few days had been. Every care seemed to roll from my heart, and I knew that while Fred lived they could never return. When Mrs. Moore came in the early morning, I tried to slip away, but Fred caught my dres and then my hand. "Mother, Katie, will take care of me now. You have done your part.” “But, my dear boy, it will not beâ€"” “I know it, and you can send for the minister as soon as you like. I guess you won’t object then to her sit- ting by me." "Well, well. I’ve always expected it, but it does seem a little sudden. Why didn’t you settle it all before this ilood and we could have had a. reception and everything elseâ€"but nowâ€"the parlor paper is ruinedâ€"and, oh, dear, I can‘t think of it all. But yiu are sick. and sick folks must be lrumored.” My trousseau consisted of a cash- mere wrapper that I wore and a white apron. but .Fred said we would be select and we shouldn't have over a. lundred. At about noon that day Mr. Moore and Bob paddled up from the warehouse where they had watch- ed tiieir goods, and the clergyman having already arrived in a boat. the little party gathered round the bed as I sat upon the edge and was pronounced a wife, while the river played a wed- ding niarch outside. I cannot tell the joy of ministering liiiu .V My bless- to my husband's comfort, as he watched me with such loving eyes. “Ah, Katie !" he whispered. "I have dreamed of this day for twelve years." "And we were only engaged twelve hours.” What a fairy castle we built during his convalescence, as the river went down and left us in a sea of mud, a foot thick on the very floors, and our Windows framed such a scene as Noah must have recognized could he return to look. The more dreadful the situation out» side became as the mud froze and plaster and chimneys fell. the bright» er grew our picture for the future. For those days brOught a. new Fred. lacking. the brusqueness of the old. and with such a. kindness in his tone. and such love in his eyes, that I hardly knew him. When the springâ€" time came we built the home we had planned, upon the site of the lost one, and mother was reconciled, and thought the dainty Queen An ooz- tage almost as nice as the weather» beaten gables of the old house. \\'ill they last while the happiness they brought us lives '.7 When it was my turn to go down into the Valley of the shadow, it was Fred's strong, tender arm that held me back. It was his beloved voice that gave me Courage, and in the solemn midnight vigils, when he would trust my life in no other hands but his own, i read the depths of his brave heart, and knew that a mar- riage bond was knit which neither time nor eternity could sever. I look up from my paper and ask. "Why weren't you as nice before you were married as you are now 7" A twinkle shines in the brown eyes as he says: "Because I had a. theory that people did too much courting in their best clothes. I meant that you should marry the worst of me and learn the best afterward. So I didn't buy you with compliments and pres- cuts and nonsenseâ€"and was mittened for my pains! It was the flood that helped me. _.__.o___ blBERIAN ROAD BLOCKED. )0 Freight Eu'vpl “:ir “nu-rial llnulcd llll liu- l.i||:'. ltrcnit letters from; Mosuow, print- evrl in the. l-Jtii'opuiii pipers, :II‘B full of vilclail.» CUllcul‘ilillg tho inability of ‘lllJJ Siberian ltuiiroad to meet the strain iinposozl upon it by the (fibrin. cuirrpuign. ll-yonvi the Urals it i: almost occupied by the" transportation of troops and military stores. No gnu is are ilCUeDled from; private consignch and only occas- ional trains are run for the canyon? ience of pusseiigers, and it is often difficult to find It place even upon one of these. l‘liore is much diffi- culty in working the rowd, and men have been draf‘t‘cl from all the lines in European itussia, at dobule wages and a daily bonus, to work on. Lho Sciâ€" bi-rhin division. One of the great Li'oulilcs is lira lick of proper en- gines. Break-downs are frequent, and even troop trains are subject to constant and prolonged delays. All along the rouid the. prices of provisions have risen to famine prices, and buy and oats are worth almost their Weight in gold. i'he irihubitunts of bile different towns on the line are compelled to provile‘ food, chiefly r‘usiks made out of the ordinary black. bread of the country, for the (soldiers. who are on their way to; the Chinese frontier. lu'b'UILL‘. places the value of this cormnolhy h is {risen to ten or twelve llilles the ottlluary rate; and this scarcity of provisions is sill to be cansiiig cgzilus from. central Siberia towand European Russia. in- formation to the actual condi- tion of affairs is g arded Jealoust .by the and it is thought. that matters are much more serious in Eastern Siberia than any one would gather from Llld official bulletins. l'Sl‘ entirely an £18 authorities, â€"--<r>â€"â€"â€" 'I'HE i2'LY BUilllo‘D TH it} SPIDER. "\Vliil- strolling about in my garden nlie o‘li;r day l was very much inter- ested in the clever and lllllLOS’[ lhuman manner in which .1 large but ordi- nary house fly buried a dead spider." said a naturalist recently. “llie fly, 1 bearing the lifeless burly of the spider in its feet. flew down on a patch of bare sandy soil and laid its loud down within a few feel. of wherre l was standing. it thtu went about 18 [inches in another direction from where l stool, and from where it had ,aligllteil, and commenced digging a th: grouiii. My curiosity was excited and [stopped to watch I the insect at work. "Well, after the fly hilvtl the hole dug hili' the length of himself he Went to where he had lefti’the spider. anul apparently took its dimensions. After going luck 'to the hole (he found it was not big enough unil‘lbegzin dig- ging again. After talking out a quantity of earth he once more went to the spller and again tOOlk its meas- ulretnent. He did this eight times and as often enlarged the hole. When 1.1m busy Little fellow harllhe hole too throw the earth 1 . . 'nola Ln :leep for him to clearoul’ he wouli go on the bank and force it blek with his feet. At last when he li.t:l Ah- excavation large :‘llOllg'h forhf» purpose he went for the sp'ller and brought it to the grave, for such i: provei to be, and bragged ll to the mouth of the hole. After he hll {he brly in he covered it with fine 6‘1.th first and finished by placing a tiny piece of cinder on :he top. \thn he brti finished the work he flew tiwziy. having completed the burial in exactly forty-five min- utes by my watch." __9_ RIGHT UP \VI'l‘H HIfi GAME. I am striving for the peace of the world. said the first wily diplomat Which particular piece do you re- fer to as the pie"? the other diplo» mat, who was just as wily. inquired.