the Safe of v the bank resisted. the burglars, and in their efforts to force it they raised an alarm. This caused them to fly. They stole a. horse and wagon from the stable of the village tav- ern, to aid. their flight. A weekafterward the horse was found, hitched in the woods near Walcottville, almgst‘ starved to death; but it was impossible to determine in what direction the robbers had gone.” ' ' A bold exploit, but not productive of profit to the perpetrators.” , “ Inn'ght recount. a dozen daring attempts of the same nature, though differing in their results; for in some of them they reaped, arich bounty, but it is not necessary, nor do I think you, would be entertained by the recitals. If this should prove to be the 5Me gang, and the very nature of their expoits would indicate that some such men as this 81:91th and the lawyer are at the head of the organization; it would be a feather in my cap to; effect, their cap .” . ~ v . : “Then you shall have that, feather. <1: see you think that they have inet,t°%night to at. range some country expedition? , . ; _ ’ “ That is my idea exactly. ” ‘ “ And they may not“ meet in their vous to-morrow night?" i _ “They might not; and yet they mighti” “ Let us trust to'the might. We can arrange every thing for their capture. If they are there tomorrow night we’ll take them, if they are not we’ll wait until they are. We shall know Whether they are in the house ornot be- fore we‘enter it.” ‘ V “ Of courSe. Your idea is a very good one, sir. Let’s leave it so decided.” ‘ ,, I, They had reached Second avenue during this conversation, and Ray turned here and led the way to the Bowery. ' ‘ ” l . “ Shall we go back to the bonsai” he yaskedif _“_.You and I will, as I have got a room close by there, ”,answered ‘Shaw; “ but we need not keep Ossian and Chester out of their beds any longer. They can take-a car here and go home. I should like to see what time they will leave the house; not much before twelve, I fancy.” “ I’should say 1191:.” V ’ i “ There comes acar, Chester, hail i .’? “ I’m in no hurry to get home, sir. ’? I “ Her I,” added'Ossian. - “ And if you think you should require our aid?” _. j t V . _ ‘9 I know I shall not. I’ll cometo the office the first thing, after breakfast.” / v t '- I’eter Shawsignaled the car and it stopped. “There get aboard, and good—night.” j I Chester and Ossian stepped upon the rear platform of the car, and it preceeded on, its Way up theavenue. A ‘r ‘ _r l ' - = . Peter ‘ Shaw and Frank‘llaywalke‘d down the Bowery to Delancey street andturned into it proceeding to Chrystie, and passingrthetenez ment block of houses. , ; ,' {r » ,2? The Secretorder jof False Faces was. their topic of conversation as they walked along at an easy pace. .. j' ._ , _ _ Peter Shaw gave the detectives full account of his experience in the, council-chamber,and his narrow escapezfrom death. Q He Was inclined to be‘very communicative withmhisymgman! rendez- It may be‘that Ossian’s assertion, that he could trust him, had something to do with i this, but there was) that in‘the speech and mannerof .the young detective that inspired confidence. Peter Shaw had conceived quite a liking for . They had Walked ' back andjforth, down the street, going down on one side and coming up on the other, and Watching'dthe door that ledto Doctor Watervliet’s office I’fiitil the clock struck t'Welve. ' x p ‘ '_ ‘1 7 “ V, After this hour, the passerSLby began :to minish, and soon their foottalls alone awoke the echoes of the street. ~But a light still gleamed from Doctor Watervliet’s office. ‘ The street was now entirely deserted. A policeman came through one of the cross streets, paused on the corner above them and struck his club against the curbstone, giving the signalof “ Ali’s well.’ Then he "on, his beat. ,_ - , V But, wasall Well? . _ _ a ‘ Peter Shaw and Frank Ray thought so, and yet none of the False Faces hadcome forth; ~ r The clock struck one. The light in Doctor Watervliet‘s oflice was extinguished. I ., “ They are coming,” said Ray; he and Shaw being opposite the house on the other side of the Street when the lamp went out. “ Let us go up'to the corner, cross over, and meet them as they come out. They may drop some chance words that will give us an inkling of what they are about.” ' ‘ ’ x ‘ ‘ “Agood idea.” , ._ , A I As the members of the order came from the ' door they divided in couples, some going one way and some another. ' ‘ ‘ ' Edgar ,Skelmersdale and Cobra Selkreg went up the street, «meeting Peter Shaw and. Frank Ray coming down. They paid no attentionto them, however, thinking their borers. going home. ‘f Didn’ I tell you I could Cobra Selkreg say. . , , , , “ Yes; audit was neatly done. game is in our hands now.” - _ A They passed on. ' Peter Shaw paused before a door, for this hadvhappened at theportal of the house in which he had taken up his tem- porary residence. “ They are up to something, air, as I told ‘ you,” said Frank Ray. . _, : Peter Shaw was thoughtful. « ~ ~ ‘ “ Yes, yes, evidently,” he answered. “ What game does he mean? It Would be strange if Oasian’s, presentiment of H evil should be verified. He is very shrewd- Somehow I do it?” they heard the . can‘but think the {game has Something'to‘do" I with me _ and mine. It was Edgar Skelmeis» dale. That man has been a blight on my life.” “ And his companion was the villainous laws: er?” ‘ ’ ' ,y "‘ I'supposesoel do n‘dt‘knowa-I never saw this lawyeré—that is not to know ‘him. , He must be the one called Nightshade, who had. the deed that‘they wished me to sign,” he add- ed, musingly. ‘ I“ g r‘ ' ‘ “ Is this w you have taken up your quar» tors?” ' i U « w p . “ Yes; it is only five doorsfrom the doctor’s, you see.” ._, _ L ‘, ' Frank Ray laughed, saying- “Quite handyigf I suppose inginnow?” ' ‘ ’ .r _ . _r if Yes; meet me at my ofllceat nine o’clock tomorrowzmorningbr‘ rather to-day, for the: newdayhasbegun.”fiu , r " right; I will'he there. Good—night!” “. ' mam . , , ' Frank Bay walked quicklyup the street, and turned the ' Feterfihaw stood in the doorwqy leanings; the semi [of his retreat—r ing‘footsteps. _ . r .. , . - p ‘ ' The‘policemanreturned uponhis beat, paused again atthe.corner,and again struck the sig- nal, “ All’swell.” . . . ' I Peter Shaw accepted it as a good omen. V “ Ali’s well!” he echoed; “then let me go to, bedwandsleep.” , w . f. . _ He entered-the house and ascended thestairs, two belated-la- 5 you feel like turn- , I ,plysai'dthat’hewaspr " Before the door of the girls’ room he paused and listened. All was still Within. ' ‘ “ Sound asleep long ago,” he murmured. “ Ali’s well!” *He felt the way along the hall to his own door, unlocked it, and entered; He a light, and then went to the door that led into the adjoining. apartment and lis- tened. ‘ ‘ . He heard the lend breathing of one in a sound slumber“ ” V _ ." ‘ “All’s Well!” he Said again, disrobed [him- self, blew out hislamp, and got into bed. “He was soon asleep, fatigued by theounusual exercise he had taken that night. ' But he would not have slept so soundly if he had known what had taken place within the girls’ room while he Was absent. - ' The False Faces had met for action that night, but it Was not a bahk‘robber'y that they meditated. ' ' ‘ Theth been called together to aid Cobra'Selkreg in‘his project of placing the known as Henrietta Edgar Skelmersdale. ‘ , ' The little latvyer’s planwas made known, and approved by, thechi’ef. ' 1’2? ’ " ‘ ‘ ' complishment: the chief, Nightshade, bane, Aconite, creosote and Arsenic. It was a device of the little laWyer’s to give each member of; the band, except the chief, the name of some poiSoh or noxious drug,’ and by these names each member was invariably called in the council-chamber; ' Thus every memberémnk his own individual identity'in the order.‘ ‘ ' ' ' It is sufficient for our purpose ’to know that Nightshade represented Cobra 'Selkreg' a’nd Henbane Doctor Heinrich »Watcrvliet. ‘ ' The doctor was a skillfulphysician, and a man of much learning and research, but of dis- ‘solute habits, and indOle’ntr He had drifted easily and naturally into crime. His know- ledge of medicine and surgery made him an invaluable member of‘the'order,’ as their en- counters with the‘poli’ce' often resulted in 'dan» Hen: gerous wounds. ’ In his cabinet cf "curiosities the doctor kept the‘ rev'olverLbullets that he had extracted from the limbs and bodies of‘his confederates. In the present undertaking the doctor pro- vided himself with a bottle of chloroform and a sponge. He had "often used this volatile es- sence upon their nocturnal expeditions. , ‘ ‘ The rest armed themselves with knife and revolver," as was reustomary,“though resistance was scarcely looked form, this instance; and e h were the false face ‘~ and the long black c oak that“ gave‘siich a phantOm—like {appeare ancetothefigure. ' ""‘ Thus equipped; they the skylight.“ Silently th ’ idol ' a'oneiljy one head— ed by the " 5' "i ’ The stars twinkled down upon them, giving these dark, shapeless figures a‘fghostly look-— only'they were Sombeif spectérs, and net ‘robed ascended to the roof by in the traditional white. ‘ . Whlfi in the power of L of the. order Were selected for its ae t I mines the matter, ” ana admitted. , signage—the little city-e thongs goo name for himselifigfi‘léll slong‘ufifil' he reached the roof ofthe house‘in’which' the girl‘s lived. ” . _ .' 1 , . l The scuttle was thrown, back, but asnoiseles’slyhs pessible“ and one'by one five descended through it. Thersixth Wasjeft as a Sentinel on the roof. V A ‘J ‘ p ‘ ‘ _ , The city; bells ' tolled ’ the midnight heur ' as they descended through the scuttle. , V ' ' ' ' v “It is the“hour when spirits Wander,” re marked CobrajSelkreg, jocosely, as he heard the bell.» . " . ' ,1 ' ' " ‘, He produced” a dark-lantern from“ beneath his cloak,“and‘pushed back the Slide. ‘ Aconiteé did the", same. Two, streams of light were: thrown before themh‘showing the halls ,_ and stairs. ",‘Theyiproceeded With, the utmost can-,2 tidn‘. ’ ' ' . . ' ' ’ On the fourth, floor Creosote wasleft as'a sentinel. If any of the tenants there should look from their doors,jhe was to scare them. into Silence by the exhibition of his revolver. Aconite was left on the third floor for a simi- lar purpose, _ , " ' _ '_ . ‘ ‘ my; Cebra‘ Selkreg,.the doctor and Edgar Skelmersdale went to the door of the girls’ apartment. [Cobra picked the lock with a skill that “showed experience and practice in‘the burglar’sart. ' ‘ ‘ ' " K j ' -' ,' They entered therro‘om. The doctor satur- ated the sponge with the chloroform." The door of the bedchamber was open; ' ) One gleam from the) lantern that Cebra Sal. 'kregcarried showed two heads, one with the black, the" other with golden hair, ropesng upon the pillow; " " _ ‘ " , ‘ ' “ Seundi asleep—now, Selkres-. , a. .. .. . . The, doctOr crept/noiselesst into the bed- ; chamber, and held the sponge to the nostrils ‘of the sleeping girls. , , ‘ ‘ ‘ ' ’ ‘ ‘_"‘All right!” he saidi ' “There’s no danger cf either of them awaiting now. ” ‘ ' Selkreg turh‘ed‘the bIaZe’ of the lantern full upon the bed. _ ' '_ “ ' > “ There ’ysh‘e~ is, "and she’sya’beauty‘!’ he cried. “ Can you carry her alone?’“_ “Oh, yes,”janswered" Edgar. “(let her clothes, idocter”, " f ‘., i A ' He wrapped he unconsciOus form ‘of Etta in the counterpane, andra‘ised‘her in his arms. ,“ Hold the light, Geb'ra,” he said, “ so I can doctor, 3" ‘ whispered find the way’to the stains?“ ' I _ ‘ “He, he, he!” chuckled, Cobra; _ “ if they eyer guess which Way she went, you can" take 'my head for a football! Wait atonement; let rue-lock the door again, after us. _‘That’s the ticket! Gently; don’t wake up anyot these 330ml?” , , W f- ,7 i (To be continuewomm‘enced in No. 2521;), THE heiress '1: OF‘r-SHA‘ST A: BY: “ALBERT w. AIKEN, ' human or “ ova.an ,KIT ” ‘“ KENTUCK, rm: sronr,” “'nockir'n‘oo this nos,” 5 ,‘fwonrwjnnnos,”i’iirc.,z are." -‘ . GHAFTERXU‘XA _ ," run vaunnrm’s Lather.» IN the (saw of the Cleangritlé lode gloomy part . At the of’the little table. was the usual- 1y—‘ «366! and quiet Mr. Brown, but now his. face sat’a exhibited strong traces ‘of nervOus ’restleSSness. Close by Brown’s right hand sat the buminer Bowers; his face ~ solemn and'woebegone. At the foot of the table eat‘Yuba‘and‘Shannon. ‘ _ Bowers had just finished his relation of the death Of the Monican, 'Velarde.‘ no was care— ful, ho'dvever {to omit all reference to“ his short interview‘wi h the terribl‘oOherokee. " He sin?- ‘ us .up the; road and had sat down‘ in the shade ‘ to rest and so happened to the‘encounter without the knowledge of either eneof the parties. ~ - A dead silence fell upon the litle party when groping hisway up in the by the aid of the barristers- __ I Bowers finished his recital, and as» the Clear- with death’s agonies. grit Sharp looked around upon his army, he fully realized that it would be a difficult job to induce any of them to undertake the task, the mere attempt to accomplish which had al- ready costtwo lives. , , p . “ Well,” Brown observed at last, finding that no one seemed inclined to speak, “ I sup- pose we must draw lots . again tosee who will try this job next.” _ “ If it’s all the same to you, cap’n, I’ll sell out,”.Bowers remarked. “ I don’t really han- ker after the thing at all. Money ain’t no ob— ject to me jest now. I’ll resign in favor of my esteemed friend hyer, Yuba—than whom, a better judge of licker never h’isted in ben- zine.” . “I reckon that I don’t want none of it,” Yuba growled. , “Bad cess to the likes of me if I try it,” muttered Shannon. ; The Clear-grit-Sharp fully showed the an- noyance that he felt. , -“ You all take water, eh?” he remarked, sar- castically. . _ ‘ “I crawfish, ole, man,” Mr. Bowers tied, with dignity. ‘ ‘.‘ And both of you back out ?” Brownfdemand- ed,.addressing the two at. the lower end of the admit- " table. ‘,‘ Wa—al, I reckon. that ’tain’t much, use to “ I reck- on that it ain’t lucky for to run ‘ag’in this long haired cuss.” r 7 _ . “ That’s so, bedad!” Shannon chimed in. “ Then none of you want the job?” .“No sugarin mine,” and Bowers smiled queerly. ' “I don’t take no stock in it,” Yuba decided. ‘f It’s not a coffin that I’m after just now, do ye mind!” the Irishman exclaimed. Brown relapsed “into a deep study, drum— ming. idly with his fingers on the table. _ Shan— non. and Yuba gazed. upward at the dark roof while Bowers contemplated the tallow candle that burned upon the table. Night had just set in whenthe plotterscame together- .N“ I have an idee!” .cried Bowers, suddenly. , Brown looked up as though he was impatient at the interruptionto his thoughts, but the bum— mer never heeded the angrylook upon the face of the Clear-grit Sharp. - , “ I have a furst class idee~reg’lar furst chop,” Bowers continued.» “ Two of our crowd have bin wiped out by this longrbearded ga- loot an’ asthe rest on us know it, naturally, we didn’t care to tacklewhim, seeing as how .we are not quite ready to pass in our checks yet; How, ,s’pose we enlist some more fellers, ’em at this .hyer Cherokee? , It looks like a. big. stake for a leetle job an’ «I reckon we kin rope some one in.” . . Brown perceived,” once that thebummer hit uponanexcellentidea, and he signified his. apprbyslimmedietely- r ’ z r "f Bully}?1 cried Yuba. “I know two .01‘ three she’ll. be aphid so tor it’ ’~ . ,3? Better ,startlout and secure them at once,” g,“Two will be enough for their)th 11$; theyset wiped out, then we satire mere"? ' ' I ans atone? rotate depart dedibéth, {Bewi- are and. Shannon. volunteered to accompany They'rClear—grit cautioned, the gentle be .carefol to get good men and the nation. r , _ g _ _ (Notover‘and. above 13th did the wily Clear-grit Sharp feel as be reflected how fruit- death (of the man he hated. Drinnming with thetable, .the mind of the plotter went back to former scenesefstrife, «andwhile engaged in reflections not over. ,and above agreeable, the sound of a the door 2 of the cave ‘ startled him. , Quickvas‘ the tiger, whom in his nature he re- sembled, Brown‘drew his revolver, and sprung \ back tlie hammer. u Notasecond too quick was the action, for the next moment the terrible White Rider, the Death Shot of Shasta, stood within the cave, grimlyconfronting the astonished Mr. ,Brown. “ Are you prepared to. die?”‘cried the mask» ed man, in ashoarsovvoice. “ Well I reckon that you. had better answer only to pull the trigger! to send you to the in- fernal regions. ”_ , . Hardin,” the White Rider said, in his hoarse tones. ‘ _ The Clear-grit Sharp started just a bit; he had not believed it possible that any one could recognizehim. _ ‘ . _ “ The bullet of Richard Talbot did not kill you outright, I see, although it did disfigure your face. But now your hour has come. Youshall die-this time, and the Cinnabar mas— sacre will be avenged.” ' “And you, Dick Talbot, Cherokee, or Shasta Death. Shot, whatever you call yourself, you did not die as people thought,” “ Kentuck ” cried, boldly. a“: We both live, and now, face to face, we’ll settle the Ownership of the Cinnabar mine. But one; of us will ever leave this place alive!” With a single movement the masked man re— moved the white hood from his head, revealing the face of Cherokee. ‘ _ . aAswour readers have. probably guessed Injun Dick Talbot and Cherokee were one and the same: ' > . . Faceito face the deadly enemies stood. The advantage apparently was ,with Kentuck for he held his revolver leveled full at Talbot’s breast, while on the contrary, :Dick’s hands more level with his waist. , “Now that your time has come, let me tell ‘ you that I had resolved .to hunt you down,” ~ Kentucksaid, fiercely- ’ were living, and I knew that you would come to this valley; and themoment I heard of the Shasta DeathShot: I knew that it was you, tryingto firighten men away from, the Cinna— bar mine.” ‘ > “Do you remember, Harrodsburg, Ken- tuckyi” asked Talbot, slowly; , “do you re- member. thepoor girl that you married there, and thendeserted, after nearly killing her with y'onrcruelty? «Shedid-die at last, and with her dying breath she called down heaven’s vengeance upon your guilty head. That girl had a. brother, a. worthless, drunken wretch. He swore to kill you, but lacked the courage to strike the blow, although he tracked you clean from Kentucky tothe Pacificslope. But, if he could inatplay thelion, he could the mouse. :Your weapon is harmless; you are delivered intomy hands, - r . , , “Joe Bowers!” cried Kentuck, half—aghast, as he snapped the revolver. > The cap exploded but the bullets of «the cartridges had been. re- moved}... _ ,, With: a wild. yell, Kentuck turned as if to flee, but even as he turned the death shot came. z 3 - Down went the scarred man struggling Only a few moment’s of pain, and then the, gambler’s soul fled to meet its Judge. r Injun Dick Talbot had won the Cinnabar lode after all. th seem, leaving Bréwn to his own 1461- f less had‘been his scheme so far to accomplish the j his ,fingas’iipon V that question,” Brown replied, “seeing that I’ve ‘ “ Your weapon is harmless, AndrewaJackson ' ‘,‘I knew that you- CHAPTER L. Asnns TO ASHES. Talbot bent down to examineif life was ex- tinct in the form of the prostrate man, and hardly had be satisfied himself of the fact, when a warning cry from the lips of the Indi— an, whom he had left on guard with the horses Without, told him that danger was nigh. _ Hastin replacing the white hood over his head, Talbot rushed forth. . “I’ll give them one last fright!” he cried, “ and then the Death Shot of Shasta will be seen no more.” A party of drunken minens had perceived the Indian in charge of the two horses, and had resolved to appropriate them. Like a whirlwind the White Rider dashed through the_throng, scattering them to the right and left. But as he sprung upon his horse—the milk- white steed-«the sorrel patches were rudely painted over so as to disguise the animal, and make it appear like a pure, \white horse—three or four of the men recognized the well-known arb. - “The Death Shot!” they cried, and ._ then they immediately drew their weapons, and began to blaze away at the now, fast-flying . fugitives. _ , The horsemen might have laughed at the impotent discharges, had not, the sound of the firearms aroused the whole of the town, and caused the inhabitants to rush out. into the .-.treet. - , Urging their horses to their utmost speed, the two dashed rapidlytthrough the city. The darkness favored the desperate attempt, and the fugitives reached the outskirts of the town, without being even scratched, although a hundred balls had whizzed by them- . “ A hundred yards more and we are safe!” Talbot muttered, between his firm-set teeth, but hardly had the words passed from his lips, when a well-directed ball struck one of the hind legs of his horse, and pretty effectually crippled him. I Talbot felt the brute sink under him, and re- alizing what the trouble was, threw-himself from the horse’s back, and with another agile ~pri'ng mounted behind the Indian, who had checked his horse at Seeing Talbot’s steed stumble. , The delay was a fatal one though, short as it was, for a fresh shower of bullets came whist- ling around the heads of the two, and the ex— clamation of pain that came from Talbot’s lips told that he was hit. I The danger was Over now too, for the fugi— tives soon gained the shelter of the thicket just beyond the town, from the main road into avlittle narrow path leading ‘ up to the rocky range.’ ' The miners had given up the chase at the border of the town, and had returned to tell,- nf the wonderful affair. . . A half mile .up on the mountain narrow cave; it. was the hiding place, of the mysterious Death Shot. There he ,kept his disguises, and the paint, wherewith he changed the appearance of his horse. ' A sorry looking I” brute the mottled steed had been when, am— bling around the town, but when on the road, , put upon his mettle, urged to his topmost speed, he seemed like another beast, so changed «lid he become in appearance. . r . Talbot’s arms were clasped tightly around the waist of the Indian, and every now and then a hollow moan of pain would escape from his lips, despiteuhis iron-like nature. _ At the cave the chief dismounted, and, gent- ly as a mother with her child, placed Talbot upon the pine-bough bed within the cave. H Kindling a fire. in the side of the cavern where a ravine in the. rock formed a natural _ fire-place, the Blackfoot proceeded to examine the wound that Talbot had received. Dark and gloomy was the look that came over ' the face of the Indian as he bated the brawny breast of Injun Dick, and looked upon the blood stained mark of man’s hostile hand. “3 How feel?” asked the savage, slowly, press- ing gently with his fingers the purple flesh near to the wound. , I _“ Likea man that is not long for this world,” Talbot replied, feebly: , ' “My brother is right—the pale faces have struck him har ,”, and the stern 01d Indian bowed his head in sorrow. . Talbot became weaker and weaker; he could perceive that life was fleeting fast. _“ The last time,” he muttered; “that’s so. I don‘t complain—blood will have blood; maybe it is better for this girl that she is spared from ,me; I might only drag her down to death like all the rest that have loved me. tal to woman.” . Then, for quite a time, Talbot remained si— lent, each breath costing him more and more exertion. , The Indian bent over him with a stolid face, more like a great bronzed statue than a hu— My love is fa— man. With a desperate effort, Talbot rallied his fleeting senses. “ Old friend,” he said, faintly, gazing up in- to the face of the chief; “ under this bed you will find some bags of gold—dud}; take what you. like for yourself, and the rest, carry to the girl in the wing-dam shanty. Tell her I died, and ask her; as she loved me, to leave these scenes of lawlessness and return to he Eastern home.” » z “ Mud—turtle take no dust—give all to squaw ———if' she stay here, fight for her, maybe.” ‘fOne last service, then, for you to do,” Talbot murmured, faintly; feeling that the end was near. “When I am dead, carry me to the top of Mount Shasta. At midnight kindle a fire, and in it place myrbody; ashes to ashes, and dust to dust at once: There, to the flames, I gave my dark-eyed Y net—a! , noble women have died for mel+Jinnie~John Rimes—oh, father!” And then, witha hollow moan, the. soul of the stricken man fled from its earthly tene- ment. Soft and low, from the lips of the Indian, came the death—chant of his tribe, and he covered his head with his blanket, and hum- bled himself to the ground beside the body of the man whom he had loved with all a wo- man’s fondness. 01d Ugly waited long that night at the Oc~ cidental Hotel, but the long- bearded Chero- keetcame not, and at last, at midnight, when the urbane bar—keeper, Billy King, turned him out of the saloon, ' the old, man went home, in a terrible rage. I y The first thing in the morning, Ugly start- edto town again, determined to find Chero- kee. - . ,. ,, Shortlyafter her father departed, Elmore was surprised by an Indian stalking gravely into the shanty. ~ . Terscly the chief told the story of Cherokee’s death, and delivered the buck-skin bags of gold- dust. The girl listened like one in a maze, and before she could recover from her astonish- ‘ment, the savage had departed. When her father returned she related what had occurred. ‘ side wasa‘ Oh! how many For once, a good thought came to the old man. ' “You are rich!” he cried; “let us, go back East and compromise my debts, and I will try to be a decent-man again!” The night after the death of Talbot, the in— habitants of Cinnabar were roused from their slumbers by the intelligence that there was a great fire on Mount Shasta. With the aid of a powerful glass, it was finally determined that a huge watch—fire was blazing on the side of Shasta, attended by a single Indian. . “ Some of the bucks heathen ceremonies!” quoth the crowd. Little did they dream that the mortal re- mains of the heroic Injun Dick were being slowly burned to ashes on great Mount Shasta. THE END. a Q; The; following tribute to the original Joe Bowers is from an appreciative hand‘who either has “ been thar,” or has read the Dick Talbot stories so closely as to be Well-posted in the remarkable char- acters therein photographed: . OLD JOE BOWERS. BY DAN REGAN. It war down thar atCinnabar, Whar I fust fell in with him, He sed, “ Old pard, how do? I’m glad that you’ve him in.” And when my hand he’d shuck, (Witch he did with all his powers,) Thar he stud chuck full of rum and pluck, The some original Old Joe Bowers. When he war asked to liker up By the boys down from the mine, “ Old pards,” he’d say, with a laughing smile, " I’m thar, you bet, just ev’ry time!” He war a. fat and reasy cuss—— This’venerable ister Bowers; I sw’ar thar isn‘t many wuss Around this ’ere town of ours. At draw-poker or a little eucher You bet he war just thar! He could produce the little joker With any of the boys at Cinnabar. He would stake his pile (or yours) , If it War within his reach; ' :: He wouldn‘t ’a’ ben the Original Joe Ef any one c’u‘d that cuss teach. T0 CLARA. With- a Flower from Greenland: BY MARY E. SADLER. Though sweeter flowers adorn thybower, Yet prize its teachings more, I .It struggled into life and bloom Upon a.‘ frozen shore. ‘ It raised its fair and lowly head ‘ Between the drifts of snow; * ‘ ' , Oh! take me from this chilly bed . To Clara’s warming glow! ; . . I may not bring it fresh with dew—- ’Twas nursed on barren soil, ‘ . Rocked onthe billowe of the deep , For many a weary mile. ’Tis here a little withered thing If beauty it had even; It has vamshed like that early dream Which gladdened once the giver. It hoards no honey for the hive, No fragrance to impart, But memories of eternal snows Are in its downy heart. 7 Offsprin of shade !-—’tis all unmeet To dec thy sunny hair; ' Let this pale, rshadowtyfphantom flower Hide in thy Book 0 rayer. ' For, if some bird that wooed it in That sterile, frigid zone, Should warble in thy bower of . 4My beautiful, my own, ’ The echo of that bygone strain Some painful thou ht mi ht start, And prayer ’sthe ba ' Head bud bloom, 1n To heal a wounded heart; n’ ‘Thmox. HATTIE WILLIS (New York) writes: a I I “Is there any serious impropriety in a young lady carrying on a correspondence with .a gentle- man, under an assumed name; or in replying to an advertisement—«‘ personal ’—that‘ appears for her?” To answer your last question first: there is very serious impropriety in a young lady demeaning her- self in sue a manner as to become the subject of a personal. Rather than think of ansWering one you should consider it an insult, and endeavor to so conduct yourself that in future no stranger would think of addressing you in such a manner. Never think of carrying on a correspondence'under an as— sumed name. It is laying your reputation open to misinterpretation. Always avoid placing yourself in false positions. I “ JERRY " (Regalton, Ohio) writes: “My wife an I board at her mother’s, and the latter is constantly interfering between us. We have no quarrels, but my wife allows herself to be dictated to—in all matters of dress, amusement, expenditure and association—by her mother. Often I would prefer to have her consult, instead, my tastes and wishes. What can I do? I know that both my wife and mother~in-law mean well, and that the former has been brought up to obey her parents implicitly. I would change my boarding . place, but, for certain reasons, it is rather desirable to remain where we are: nor can my wife endure the idea of leaving her home.” When a woman takes upon herself the vows of a wife she solemnly promises to “ forsake all others,” and to “honor, serve and love 1" her husband. 1n taking these vows, she should remember that her duty to her parents becomes secondary to that she owes her husband. If she loved you enough to take you for a husband the love should be strong enough to inspire her with a desire to please you in all reasonable matters. Show her this, and, if she is loving and sensible, when you kindly intimate your wishes she certainly will respect them. HENRY E. T. (St. Augustine) says: ~ “ I have promised to correspond with a very nice, intelligent girl, whose interest I greatly desire to win. know that she would care nothing for ordi‘ nary flirtation letters; can you give me some sug- gestions as to how I can make my letters really in- teresting?” > Avoid too much formality and precise epistola- tory usage, and do not make self the sole theme. Write her of any new places you visit; beautiful or strange scenery that you see; any interesting events that occur in your daily life; of books that you read; of the current news; of any new ideas in sermons, lectures or readings, concerning popular themes. Seek an exchange of opinion. Answer carefully all items in her letters, and show our in— terest in her welfare, avocations and thoug ts. 111'an HUNT (Meriden, Conn.) ‘ It will do your eyelashes no particular ‘,‘ harm ” to “trim them ” delicately, and may benefit them. It is often Very beneficial to all an‘ infant’s eye— lashes very sli htly, occasional y. Of course it must be done w lie the child sleeps. Avoid the use of belladonna. It is extremely injurious. You can procure a paste for darkening the eyebrows anl eyelashes at any drugstore, but such applications 01106 commenced can never be discontinued and we would advise you to preserve the beau y of health and nature and not to seek to improve your self by unwholesome artificial devices. ~ > FINERY (Newport) r White ties are worn in the street quite as much as for house. toilet. They are the plain white or brocaded Windsor, with straight or pointed ends trimmed with real lace——Valenciennes, thread, point applique or real point—put on plain or oil ht- ly full as fancy dictates. Many are now finis ed ‘with a. band of black ribbon-velvet heading the lace. Some are made of a lengthwise strip of Valen— ciennes insertion bordered either edge with narrow- est black ribbon—velvet, and finished all around with edging. Others are made of straight strips of linen lawn or organdy neatly hemmed all around, and trimmed at the end with fine tucks and lace. For out-of—door costumes these are tied around the neck above the sacque collar, and look very dressy. An intensel. dark green is the prevailing color for the éissue vai s donned with the coming of spring wm s.