g shorter and shorter. She moved
cautiously, lest her grand idea should be appropriated, but she left no
stone unturned for raising the money. Finally, on the ninth of August,
impatient, anxious, nervous, she had six thousand dollars in hand, and
only ten days intervened before the day of the eclipse. She went
immediately to an eminent solicitor of patents, who had influence at
Washington, and made application for a patent for advertising on
eclipse-glasses. The solicitor thought there was no doubt but that the
patent could be secured, so that she might freely proceed with her
enterprise. She next contracted with a glass-factory for five thousand
dollars' worth of glass, and engaged one hundred men to cut and stain it
and put up the eclipse-glasses. Then she made several endeavors to see
the president of the news agency, and after repeated failures she opened
a correspondence by letter with him, briefly outlining her plan, and
asking him to undertake through the news agents the distribution of the
glasses. The next morning she received in response, through the
post-office, these lines:

"MISS TRIGILLGUS: You have been anticipated in your enterprise. We are
engaged to distribute eclipse-glasses for another party."

As Mary read the cruel words that ended all her hopes, she fell lifeless
to the floor, and was thus discovered by her mother.

The following day there came a confirmatory note from the solicitor of
patents, stating that she had been anticipated also in her application
for a patent.

From this period Mary's moods became indescribable. From a state of
unrelieved despondency she issued so merry, in such exhilaration, that
her mother was glad to welcome back the shadowed mood which soon
succeeded. The sagacity of physicians, of her most familiar
acquaintances, of her mother, was all at fault. No one could decide
whether or not her mind was unhinged, whether or not Mary Trigillgus was
insane; for it must be remembered that her friends were ignorant of the
events we have been narrating--her love for Christian Van Pelt, her
disappointment, her grand scheme, the sacrifice of her home and the
failure of her enterprise.

The nineteenth of August came, the day preceding the grand event of the
century. Mary Trigillgus and her mother were lingering at the
breakfast-table. The girl seemed wild and hawk-like, startling her
mother with her unnatural merriment, commenting with weird brilliancy
and grotesqueness and spa