- -—:~ «an... *‘3fi?fi;. .Y. ;jv\1«.av’&-t . g’,_§ y-‘hffi'jiwfm. N « h L. > ‘vufimfi « .. ., _, , cg».- . oi "lemuullllmltmlm bio and recognizable odor, betrayed to the “ posted” Onset-yer that this surrounding was the precinct or a “ rat pit.” Thomas Bilspoon was an admirer of plucky terriers; he had both won and lost moxie.- at this same pit, where he had first, and ower fre- quently since, met with BJC‘k Gosh. In his angry mood with Coralie on this night, and resolving upon a dark scheme to forcibly possess himself of the girl, he at once made the move to see what molley would do with the hardened individual who presided over the rat- pit exhibitions. , Buck Gosh was a stumpy statured man with a button-ball head, smOotu, shiny, bulldog face, who always wore his Shirt-blCt-Vt‘s rollel up to display the knotty-muscled arms of w hich he was brutally proud. “You want to talk some business? \‘l’hat about!” he asked, entering with the ordered brandy bottle, water-pitchrr and tunblers. Bilspoon helped himself copiously to the liquor, smacking his lips after the draught in a way that proved it was one of several “ private ” bottles Buck Gosh kept on hand for some of his sporting customers. “Yes, my dear Buck. Aw-hm! I have some- thing I want you to do for me.” “ What is it? W'hat’ll it puy ?” Buck was decidedly of the class who put a mono value on everything. “ ait a moment. Do not push too fast. In the first place I would remark that I am in love -—head over heels.” "A’ old codg. like you! Haw-haw!” he ex- claimed, with a grunting laugh. “ Not so old as you imagine, sir,” brusquely. “In the second place, the girl does not carea finger snap, and a bonnet to boot, for me.” “ Don’t blame ’er much,” commented the ruf- fian inwardly, but saying nothing. "l‘low, Buck—aw-hml—I am going to have that girl, nolens volens.” “ That’s talk, nollins wollins—whatever ’n thunder you mean—darned if I know. Well, 311’ what ’v’ I got to do ’ith it?” “ That is just the point.” “()vl, ’tis, eh?” “ YcS. I want you to kidnap the girl.” “Kidnap ’erl An’ do what with her?” in huge surprise. “ I guess you won’t be dumb on that uestion, when I tell you th it I will pay $100 to get possession of her,” and Bilspoon, feeling con~ scious that he had named a reaSonable bait, leaned backward complacently in his chair. Buck Gosh regarded him steadily and with glistening orbs. It was not reas0nahle to imag— ine that the wealthy Thomas Billspoon was making a “ plant ” to eventually break up his business and get him in limbo. Their acquaint- ance had always been friendly. “ Is this ’ere square?” . “ Square all the time.” ~ “ An’ s’pose I earn the cash—then what?” “ Then I have another thousand to put up.” “ For what?” “ A place to keep her safe, under guard, where nobody can gain entrance to her besides myself, - until I have compclled her to marry me.” The fellow scratched his close-cropped head meditative! y. ' “Look here, this ’s a ticklish thing. S’pose we’re caught at it Q’ "Suppose that on are not." “ i know. But ’m weigaiu’ the chances.” “ Pile the $2.000 on the other side of the scale.” “ On. it’s some money, sure.” Then another, n 3117 thought clme into his busy bran. “ Say, what if I was to give the thing away to the gal, an’ she was wil.in’ to pay more, an’ the papers hauled you over—" Bllspoon stopped his speech, grinning. “Too fast—too fast, my dear Back. Aw— hml You do not even know who the girl is yet. I am willing to swear she isn’t able to buy you off. for she works pretty hard for her liv- ing. As to the ‘giving away’ business—what about this, eh i” Bllspoon pointed a finger, in a rising and fall- ing manner, indicating the cellar beneath them. The bloated features of Buck Gosh paled slight- ! . He was conducting a profitable liquor trade there, it would be a. bad Stroke of luck for the authorities to " clean him out,” as they assured- ly would have done upon being apprised of the brutisa and filthy exhiblti he carried on in the cellar. But it was something more than this reflection that brought the startled sign to his face; he had another, a. constantly preying cause to dread an investigation of his under- ground premises, which will present itself to the reader ere long. “ You ain’t green, anyhow,” Buck admitted. “Aw-hm! well, no. But what is it? What do you say? Come.” “ I g“. .3 we can trade.” “ It is a bargain?” “ Yes.” They shook hands across the pine board table, in a sort of thieves’ compact style. “Have you a. room, a good strong room to 00nilne her in?” " Oh, I can easy fix that.” “ Very well.” Bilspoon produced, a plethoric wallet. He knew too much of the world to think that there would be any work done. in a case of this dan- gerous character, until some money showed it- self. Counting out $500, he handed it over with a shove. “There is a. part payment. When the pretty minx is housed, I will give you five hundred more. When I have conquered the girlI will giv.» you the other thousand.” “ But s’pose she doeSn't ‘ conquer ’ for a. cent?” “ No fear. Leave that to me. But I will .agree to this: you shall have the balance in two weeks’ time, anyhow.” “ That’s square ’nough.” “ Now then, Buck, pencil and pa r. I have made a complete study of the ouse where she llves, in prospect of just such an occurrence as this. I will now make a. diagram showing all accesses—ways to get, in, you know.” “ Yes, use plain talk.” “ Her rooms are on the first floor—one front, one back; all windows are long, reaching nearly to the floor, the sills only about chin—high from the ground, short iron railings on the outside. The house is No. -- North Eleventh street, near the comer. Her name is Coralie Damer. Around the corner is an alley leading to the yard gate of the premises. She lives entirely alone; both the landlady and servantgirl have their sleeping-rooms in the top story, so you see there is hardly any obstacle. There you are. The’pther minutiae you can cogitate over your- self. The scheming Thomas Bilspoon carefully pre- parleld his impromptu diagram, talking thus the wh' 8. Buck Gosh was in possemion of all the informa- tion he needed. “ When’s this ’ere thing to he did?” “Right away. Tonight.” “ Why—thunderl—hadn’t I better spy round a bit an’ get all the bearin’s down fine?’ “I say it must be accomplished to-night. I have no timeto fool away over her. I want her; I am going to have her, and the sooner the better.” “ Well, you’re boss.” “ To night is as good as any other night," de- clared Bilspoon, taking a second large drink of brandy and arising. “ Oh, I s’pose so. .VVhen ’!l I see you again?” “Tomorrow night. "And I shall expect to find the girl caged. Good-night.” “ So-long.” He left the room and the saloon walking rapidly to get clear of the locality. errible and near was the coil of the shadow over pure and pretty Coralie. As Buck Gosh returned to the bar-room a moment behind Bilspoon, he saw two ugly-look- ing 1‘! lughs making toward the front door with stealthy haste." “ Here—none 0" that!” he cried, with an oath. The evilly-intent pair halted immediately. Blinking back. ’ " No funny game on that gent who’s 'ust gone out 0‘ here. He’s a partic’lar friend 0’ mine, an’ don’t you forget it.” With a menacing nod toward them, he passed behind his counter. In less than twenty minutes villainous CHAPTER XI. A COUNTERFEITERS DEN. BUCK then addressed his assistant in an un— deruluc: “ Seen anything 0’ Daisy to-nightl” “ No: she ain’t been around.” “ Slip down an’ see if she’s to home, nn’ tell ’er I want ’er right sharp.” The man departed. After a brief interval he returned. and in reply to Buck’s look of inquiry jerked his head in a meaning nod toward a back door leaning lo the yard. . Buck immediately went to the exit. As he opened the door— ulling it carefully shut be~ hind him—the du I light from the bar-room lamps glanced athwart a female form dressed in garish flneries, and showed a rouged face with artificially bright eyes. “ I say, Daisy, is that you?” he said, guarded- ly, in the giOlllll. “Yes, I’m on hand. I’Vhat’s up?” “ Do you want to make a cool couple 0’ hun- dred?” “ Show me how, that’s all. What’s the color of it?” “ Square cash.” “ N. .w you’re talkin’. Well, what’s to be done for il '5” “ It's a mighty scary secret.” “ Dii I ever give anything away?” “ A miss- 0 means jiil, sure pop. ” “I guess I ain’t afraid, if you ain’t. Come, what’s the racket!” “I can trust you?” “ Honor bright.” “ Let's go inside. There might be some curi- ous cuss a-hoofiu’ ’round here too clost in this dark.” The woman called Daisy boldly followed him through the bar-room, into the sanded side apartment, heedless of the staring crowd. “ I‘Vllat a nasty g .ng that is out there, Buck. Why don’t you get rid of thC’UI—‘you‘ve got plenty of money—and set up in good style on the Achur!" “ Oh. they drop a dollar ouc’t in awhile.” “ Mark my word for it, you’ll wish you’d list- ened to me IOng ago and cleared out of this ranch, and cut away from all that’s in it—now.” The words were prophetic. Buck Gosh was to vividly recall this speech of Daisy’s at a later da . XThat’s neither here nor there,” he rejoined. “ You sit down while I €Xplaln this business on hand. It’s a queer game. but it’s payin’ big.” “ Go ahead. I’m listening.” The pair entered into a Inw-toned dialogue, in which the name of Coralie Damer was dropped more than once. It was nearly ten o’clock when she arose to depart, saying: “All correct, Buck, it’s plain enough for a got just the very thing. And as luck just hap- pens. there’s nobody living in the old house but me, now. I’ll been the lookout for you. But re- member what I said, if there’s any blood in this lay-out of the old gent’s, I’ll up and blow every- thing—now.” “Don’tle that worry you. I’m not a-dabblin’ in that kind 0’ stock, either.” When assured that she was gone, Buck Gosh stepped forward and turned the he in the dOUI‘dOCk. Tnen he crossed to one si e of the wall—a wall dadoed in low, bona fide panels. Pressing a spring, one of these panels moved slowly astde. He entered the aperture, draw- ing the panel shut after him, and slowly de- scended a flight of joist-timber stairs scarcely two feet in breadth between the walls. D.)\VII, down, he felt his way, presently bring- ing up a aius: a stout obstruction, on which he delivere several peculiar kicks. This was a door, for it openel at his signal, admitting him into an underground chamber evidently deeper, if not directly under the cellar where the rat-pit exhibitions were held, and the roof strongly supported by jointed beams and beveled pillars of wood. ‘ Four men in their shirt-sleeves were the e, busily at work among a lot of mysterious tools and plates and crisp paper, one brawny, whis- kered, villainous-visaged fellow working the pondcrous lever of a. hand-press, while another, at a far Corner, was seated at a desk, writing under the brilliant rays of a student lamp. The sleeves of this latter person were also rolled up nearly to the shoulder, and on one of the bare arms, ad irany executed in India ink, was the device of a blue anchor. The signifi- cance of this item will be apparent in a future chapter. Buck motioned to the man at the lever to step aside, when a. Whispered conversation ensued. In a few seconds thiy advanced to the corner where the young ma was writing. Looking over his shoulder with them. we see stacked before him packages of twenty-dollar legal-tender notes. One of these notes was at the instant under his pen; a. perfect signature had just been attached, the ink being not yet dry, while several notes—on which he had not deemed the signatures sufiiciently exact—lay torn and scattered on the earthen floor around 1m. Plain] , this subterraneous chamber was a counter eiters’ den. Judging by the samples here displayed, it was no wonder—as the famous Colonel Wood once said—that the Treasury of- ficials themselves redeemed many thousands of spurious money. These were, indeed, a bold gang—conducting operations directly at the seat of Government, and under the very noses, as it were, of the shrewd Department agents. “Mr. Bob,” said Buck, “I want you to do some scribblln’ for me outside 0’ them ’ere note beauties.” g “ What is it, Buck?” “ Got some common paper there?" “Yes,” slipping forward a small sheet and waiting, pen in hand. “ Make it hobby and delicate like—a full-blood youn gal’s fist.” Buc Gosh then dictated, from which the fol« lowing was the result: “Sudden and imperative business has called me from town at a. late hour this evening. May return shortly. Have no uneasiness regarding my absence." “ How’s that?” “First class. On‘y it needs the name, now. Give ’er a gal’s flourish.” “What is the name?” “ Coralie Damer.” “ Coralie Damer I” echoed Mr. Bob, huskily. He turned suddenly very pale, and gazed into Buck’s face with a. strange, intense expres— sion. “ Yes, that’s the name. Put ’er down.” “ What is afoot concerning the young lady ?” ” I don’t know as it’s any 0’ your par-tic’lar business, Mr. Bob. It’s private, that’s all. You ust put down the name, I sa , an’ oblige a rien’. That’ll be all right. hy, you ain’t ’quainted with ’er, are youl” Mr. Bob rec0vered himself, saying. nervously smiling as be attached the name which had caused him a start: “Oh, uo—not at all, only the name sounded a little familiar.” As Buck and the giant rufiian withdrew from the den, Mr. Bob gazed, with a dazed frown, after them. “ Coralie Damerl” he uttered, to himself, in low, thoughtful exclamation. “ It must be the same. She is living in Washington, then. There is some plot about to be sprung on her— _else what means that forgery? Bah! what have I to do with Coralie Damer at this late day 9” He resumed his criminal work at the desk. But note after note was spoiled; his hand‘shook under an excitement he could not master, aroused by mention of that name. “I’ll have to quit, boys,” he said. at last. “My hand has a bad quirk i’ the wrist to- night,” and Mr. Bob ascended by the secret stairway to seek a stimulant and a breath of fresh air. ‘ Shortly before midnight a. close hack went leisurely northward along Eleventh street, its pace not in the least calculated to excite sus- plcion. Presently taming a cornerit paused—for an instant only—before an alley. blind mule. I ll go home and fixthe room. I’ve ‘ Two figures alighted, gliding quickly into the alley, and s.) homeless WuS their inoyem nt that they must have had mufiled feet. The back started on again. The vicinity seemed to be totally deserted; no patrolling policeman nor belated “ wanderer of the night" was near. But no snout r bud the hack driven off than a small form emerged to view, froth the deep shudmv close against the plank wall, and ran on tip - toe to the alley, peering cautiously around the corner there. “ That ain’t any drunken ‘ bloods’ slipping in the back way i” exclaimed a boyish voice, hushedly. “Lolnks more like burglars; and they must have gum shoes on, I reckon, they move so soft.” The moonlight revealed the tiny, uniformed A. D. Telegraph messenger lad, who was then returning after having delivered the dispatch to John Smedley, Esq., at Daymon’s resi- deuce. Curious and told, he watched the two men proceeding up the alley. They paused at a gate, and, in a few seconds, had disa ppearctl. (10 be command—commenced in No. 6.) CHRISTMAS FEASTS. BY ROGER BURKE, JR. Ah, friends, you tell me Christmas-time is drawing on npace, And talk of what good times you’ll have, and how you’ll deck your place, And visit or have visitors, and make the blessed day A loug-remciu ot red, happy time along life‘s toilsome way. Ay, friends-J ween 'ris very right that Christmas should be spent— That linppytlmc when Jesus Christ, 9. little child, was sent, A Saintfr from our sinsto be, with pardon down from enven— In joy_ and pure festivity, and thankful praises glvcn. But there is one thing I would say, and take it not amiss:— Be sure, my friends, your joy is pure, and bright your appiness; For bath yourselves and I, alas! how many numbers 'IIOIV Who spoil this peaceful, holy time by that which bringet'n woe! And at whose Christmas boards the glass, within whose sparkling deep _ With Itimptt‘egzeived but ponsonous sing the serpent es ee ls passed along, with eager hands ’mid mirth, and . chat, and song, And nailed again an yet again until Its power grows rong. And, blending with the holy bells, rising to God's pure skies, Are shuddering awful curses heard, and children’s frighten cries. And that which should have been a giftthe been with love to fill Perverted and abused. becomes a power alone forill. All, “is. an awful thing, indeed, to ponder on and That (if 2.1111.i tim‘es the Christmas-time is most defiled lllx' ' That toyconlmemorate the day of sweetest, holiest Brothg’l'o brother, friend to friend, given that which will destroy! 80, friends, when Christmas really comes, and you the board a spread, And cheerfulness and happiness are round you freely And walls are decked and songs are sung, and heart th heart is 0h,let not thatvlle gbeseenwhichwill pollute your glee! Look not 11 u the wine-cu red, for tho‘ so fair ’twill bpign p ’ At last the sergpent’s poisonous bite, the adder’s deadly stillilgs; : But I; the Oh tmas be, indeed, a. holy feastotide ven A memory, of joy on earth, a birthday-guide to Heaven! . John Armstrong, Mechanic; Prom the Bottom to the Top of the Ladder. ' ' A Story of How a Man Can Bin human-ice BY CAPT. FRED. W HI'I'I‘AKER, ' AUTHOR or “mo, mac or an rams,” "m m Run.” “on; an. m CAN- Nonmm,” no, no. —r CHAPTER XXI. THE LETTER. I POOR Ella! She had an unhappy time of it that night and tLe next day. Her mother cut short her explanations; would not see that she had any cause to complain; praised Stryker to the skies as one of the nices. young men she had ever met, and the end of it was mother and daughter separated on bad terms with each other, Ella rebelling against injustice. Mrs. Mor- ton calling her a romantic, love-sick girl, who would bitterly regret what she had done when it was too late. The coldness lasted over Sunday, and poor Ella went to school with a headache, coming back worse, while everything seemed to go wrong in the quiet little house in Ashley street. Mrs. Morton had ended by setting her heart on the match Ella had rejected, and seemed to take a deeper dislike to Armstrong every mo- ment that the uarrel lasted. As for Ella, s e was miserable at her mother‘s anger, and her own faded away till she began to wish the thing had never happened, and was thinking seriously of trying to compromise when, on Tuesday afternoon, the bell rung, an the stman delivered a letter to her mother, mar ed “Painted Post.” This letter she brought in and gaVe to her mother, palpitating. The old lady glanced at it and put it in her pocket with an air of severity that completely roke down Ella’s nerves. The girl burst into tears, left the room, and was found, an hour later, by her mother, lying on her bed in a darkened room, still sobbing. Then the old lady came and sat down by the begélooking awkward; and a long silence en— su . Ella was watching her mother, half-fright- ened, half-hopeful; the old lady was trying to make up her mind to speak. At last she said: “ Ella.” o “ Yes, mother.” The faintest of voices. The tone of a mar- tyr, yet Ella was actin . The best of women cannot help acting, andfi‘llla knew her triumph was coming, so she pretended to be worse than she was. “Ella,” resumed the old lady, melting at the sight of her daughter’s suffering, “ we have guarreled long enough. Let’s make u , child. was angry and jealous. Yes, child, admit it. I’m jealous of this young man you love so much better than me. cannot get to like ‘him. I wish you‘d taken Mr. Stryker. He had pro- mised nevor to separate us." Ella opened her eyes. “ Had he mother? But I didn't love him." “You’d havo learned to, after awhile. But it’s no use thinking of it now. I see ou’re crazy after the other, and I‘ve just readbis fa- ther’s letter." “ What does it say?” asked Ella, faintly. She did not dare to show interest In it, for fear of musing her mother‘s jealousy again. The old lady hesitated, and at last drew it out. “ I‘ll read it to you, child." Then she read aloud: “Hosanna Mann:— “ In regards to the questi0ns you writ me, I take my pen in hand to let you know this. “ John and me was passing your house that night, when we heard a shot, and a young man came run- uin by us with a. pistol, chased by a gang of loafers. He ost his head, and they had him cornered on the dock and was a- ‘ving it to him hot, when John and me went in and ou‘t them till they run. John got a stab in the arm as he ain’t well of yet. but I was not ' hurt, to speak of. IIent for the police ambulance, i and John took the man to Your house. I asked the doctor next day if he was hurt bad, and he told me not so bad as he made out. Ho thought he was put. ting on a good deal. That is all I know. 1 “ Yours to commmd, “JOHN Anusrnoxc." Eila lay still and watched h-l- niotln r. She knew better than to say, “ What did I tell . your” Presently the old lady observed, with a slight Sigh: “ I shall have to write to him, I suppose, and ask him to call.” E In made no answer but turned her head to , hide the smile she could not repress. I “Don’t you think i ought to, Ella!” her mo- thcr asked, Wistfully. . “ That is for you to judge, mother,” was the , faint reply, almost in n whiSper. The old lady tapped her foot on the floor. I “ l apprehended tiat fact, my daughter. I ask (I what you thought?" " It is not my business to advise my mother.” said Ella, still more faintly. “ I am not well. l I have a terrible headache. Please don’t ask I me.” . “ Hum! ' \Vcll, then, I suppose I’d better not write. AfLer all, he might not come, and I don’t care to humiliate myself unnecessarlly.” Ella watched her mother out of her half- closed eyelids. I “ No, he might not come,” added the old : lady. “I’d better not write.” t, She nodded her head angrlly, and Ella in the faintest of voices whispered: “ There’s no harm in ing.” A slight smile crossed t e o d lady’s thin face, ‘ as she retorted: “ Or), you think so, do you? Do you think he would come if I asked him i” “ I thmk so, mother. He would be bound to obey a lady’s wishes.” “Yes. see. Well—I’ll write.” And the old lady suddenly hugged her daugh- ter in a way that showed she had not lOSl. all the impetuosit y Ella had inherited from her, and Swept out of the room. As she went out Ella listened intently and 'heard her mother sob slightly. “She’s sorry lor what she’s done,”said the girl to herself. “Poor mothcr! I wonder if I shall ever feel that we 9’ ' And it was remar able with what speed Ella’s headache vanished. Her m-.ther, coming down a little-later, ft and her in the parlor, dressed and beaming with health, while Kitty, .he girl, was in the area- way, hailing some one down the street, and Ella. was watching the proceeding with such in- terest that she did not hear her mother’s en- trance till the cl! lady spoke rather sharply: “VVhat’s this, Ella?” Ella‘ turned with a charming smile. “Only Kitty is calling up a messenger b0 , mamma. You know they take letters so quick- ly and bring an enema.” The old lady was taken aback. She loked steme at Ella, but could not keep her counte~ ounce, and finally handed her a letter, raj ing: "There, there, goosie. Well, of all—gills are getting dreadful nowadays.” “ And mothers charming "retortod Ella, with a gladsome bug, when she dew of to d( liver tlve . letter and promised the messenger boy a quar- ter extra i he’d “run every step of the way.” Need it be said that the astute ‘outh set off at the top of his speed till he ha turned the corner, when he look a leisurely pace and fi- nally arrived at the Vulcan Works, where he delivered his missive to Armstrong. The young man Icoked at it. | "Mrs. Morton’s compliments to Mr. Armstrong, and ho he will call a his earliest convenience at 143 Ash ey street.” I J obn’s face lighted up, and he made the heart t of that messenger boy leap like a. spring lamb, as he handed' him a b' trade dollar, and said: “Take that. How astcan you get back to Ashley street?” 5 “ Ten minutes, sir.” “ Very good. Here’s your answer.” He scribbled it hastily: “ Mr. Armstrong will do himself the pleasure of calling this evening at 8 P. u." . “ Now run, and I’ll give you a second dcllar if you bring a receipt in twenty minutes.” The grass did not row under that boy’s feet, you may be sure. 6 came breathless up to Ila, who opened the door in’ a way that showed she had been waiting, and he med out: “Here ’tis, miss. Sign t e book, please. Gent said he’d give me a dollar if I'was back in , twenty minutes.” ' Ella signed her own name, and ran off with the note, which she kissed as soon as she was in the ssage. T e boy ran back all the way, handed the- book to the manager of the Vulcan Works, and was amaZed to see him kiss the place where Ella had signed, thoqfih not a grin crossed the youthful features of e emissary. He took his dollar stoically, and it was not till he got out- side that he gave vent to his feelings by saying audibly: i “ Golly! ain’t it bully to get in with a pair of l meshes! Don’t count money no more nor dirt. 1 I’ll keep an eye on that gal, I will. She’s worth i money to me.” ‘ All the rest of that afternoon John was rest- ‘ less, and at his boarding-house he hardly ate any supper. s soon as he could in decency, be dressed with unusual care, and started out for Ashley street, humming softly to himself some lines he had happened to read that very day, in a col- ; lection of poetry on the parlor table of his ] boarding-house. : “ He either fears his fate too much, i ' Or his desert is small Who fears to ut it to the touch, ' And win or ose it all." “ I’ll do it,” he said to himself, as be turned i into Ashley street. “ I might never have done i it, if the mother had not treated me so shab- bily. Now I'll do it. I’ll try my fate to—night l and win or lose it all.” And as he mid the last words he saw the! girnilg Ella Morton at the parlor window of . o. ! i CHAPTER XXII. A PITOHED BATTLE. Tun meeting, that evening, between John | Armstrong and Mrs. Morton was a peculiar , one. : The old lady came into the parlor to find her daughter and John sitting on opposite sides of the room: Ella, with a puzzled, embarrassed , look on her face, examining the pattern of the ' carpet, while Armstrong sat by the window, ! looking partly out, and talking in the most in— , difl’erent way about the weather. Kitty had opened the door for him, and car- ried a formal message to Mrs. Morton that l “ Mr. Armstrong requested the pleasure of sce- , ing her. ” When she came down—stairs and entered the room John rose quietly, drew himself up like a soldier on parade, and bowed with at polite , ness, but equal coldness, as the old ad said: “ I am really very glad to see on, r. Arm- strong. Where have you been a I this time?” She tried to speak easily, this proud old lady, who began to see she had been wrong, but hated to acknowledge it: yet her words ended in a nervous little laugh, and she could not help feeling embarrassed before the man she ha called a “ clown." And the clown, what did he say! f‘ I received your note madam,”he answered, with a grave bow. “ and am here to wait your commands.” , As he spoke, he offered her a. chair as calmly i as if he had been raised in some court in Eu- ' e, and it was the old lady who began to feel ‘ a umiliating sense of inferiority in the con- test of wits impending. She sat down, however, remarking: - “ Oh, I can hardly say I have any commands for you. I thought it rather strange that you ke§t away from us so long—" he hesitated and actually broke down; when John, With a slight smile that made Mrs. Mor- ton feel exasperated all over, answered: l l “I have had several refisons for not calling, madam, the last of which was removed by your note, though I fancied, from its purport. that you had something to say to me beyond the oroin-ory courtesit-s of a short acquaintanCc.” - Ella had been sitting at one end of a sofa, 10 king halt puzzled, half—afraid, when she heard this, and began to lrelul-le all over. This young man was actually dating her mull-cl tonu encouulcr, and she knew the old lady’s temper too well to doubt the challenge would he accepted. Mrs. Morton‘s dalk eyes floated a glance over the form 0! J: llu Arm- stmn , and then she turned louud o.. Ella. “ Ify daughter." she Said, quietly, “ Wlll you oblige me by seeing ii I did not leave my letter from Mr. Armstrong’s father somew here in my room. I think I did.” 0 Ella rose palpitating. She felt that lilt'l‘e was a qual're in the air, with which she dal ed not inertere, between two people whom she clearly loved, ill which one of them must be wrong; and she felt fri htencd to find that she ‘ “as, in her heart siding against her mother, who actually was sending her out of the room. She went out silently; and, as soon as the door closlcd, the old lady dash d at Al'mSU'OIIg, beginning the battle at Olll‘C uitll the plivilege of ler sex, and hoping to I" ut t! e young man by delug on his Works with n rush. “Now sir,"she said, sharply, “perhaps you will lxpl’ain the singular [one you have adopt- ed toward me, who have Only had the pleasure of seeing you twice before in my life. I can .1- cuae a great deal to ylur lack of breeding on account of your disadvantages of education, but WI en you think that I could have anything tosay to you beyond the ordinary words of a chance acquaintance, you are ulut-h mistaken. Your father is a worthy and honest pcrmn, who Served under my husband’s order; and I had a kindly i’eelilg lor you as his son, as I have for the children of all my husband’s old soldirls. That is all, sir. 1 “lab to treat you kindly still, lut you must not. imagine that I write notes for any purpose lut that expressrd on their face. I l Xcuse y- or mistake on account of your lack of at qutlilltancc wit: the usages of the st ciely in which I \\ as horn, in! it you wish to remain on visiting terms at this house, the mis- tukl‘ [1111" no! be repealed." And Mrs. M rlou humid her dusted cheek rnal to keu stladily at the well, with all the vir- luous anger of a woman who knowa she is in tl.e along, ltlt is determined to fight it out. As for John. he kept his eyes on her face, though she would not meet his glance, all the time she was speaking, with a gravity that nothing could disturb. When she had finished, he watched her in per- . fect silence, till she turned her eyes cefiantly on him, when be fixed her at last With his grave look, as l e l9|~lled2 “I thank you, madam for your kind lesson on courtnty. I can thatI was laboring under a gl'lvVOIll mistake. I thought on had seen no three timesinrteed of twice. but was all.” Now he led gained her glance he kept it, and she n.swereo sharply: “ Ta 0 or three; “‘l at difference does it make! Docs that give you a title to ask anything from In Lut dielal-t n