8 l llhum!!!“ millillllllllllllllllllll' iii llllullllllllllhllll'", lliill’llllll'llllll' W 'lllluuuiinmuuuimmm in.» llumillmuiwuiuim: T: :26- til/7‘" SOLON SKUGG‘S ~lfl'IFE’S AUNT. BY J0 KING. My venerated aunt-in-law Each year she older grows; She never combs to visit us Because she never goes. She loves my wife and me quite hard In her peculiar way, And for her love of me and mine She asks herself to stay. She‘s fond of tea. and drinks it hot And steaming from the cruse, But then it never burns her tongue-— Net to impair its use. The dentist pulled her teeth—not tongue, Which makes her mouth look awk- Ward, but at least I cannot see That it affects her talk. Her health has long since gone away With years wnich she has sued, And yet she never will give up And quietly go to bed. Her sightis falling year by year, Yet I am glad to see It’s not gone yet, for that dear soul Sees every fault in me. She takes an interest in things As if they we ‘e her o-vn. And makes things lively round the house, As every day has shown Her views of life are very vast, But they are not untold, She doesn‘t seem my wife's dear aunt When she forgets to scold. She's got a disposition that - Is extra—of its kind, And is as good as good can be Whenever she’s a mind. She’s never mad unless she is In some way out of sorts, And never speaks an angry word Unless it’s in retorts. She tends to her own business Nor goes neglecting mine; Her manner. when s e is asleep, We all consider fine. She never slathers things around Unless when she is mad, And seldom smiles on any one When she is feeling bad. Her mind’s serenity is apt Sometimes to slightly vary; She airs her temper, but, oh, here She is not tempor-ary. We’d miss her every da if she Away from here shou d drive, There‘d be an empty, vacant void As sure as you’re alive. Yet she disdains to do a thing Which she thinks would be grievous, But takes her tea, and says that she Will never, never leave us! Early Days in _the Black Hills. BY JOHN H. WHITSON. III. GOLD — THE PHOENIX MINING COMPANY -— HY- DRAULIC MINING—A MUSHROOM TOWN— TREACHERY. 11‘ would be diflicult to describe the feelings of Vandiver and Matson when they discovered that the rescued man was Ugdegrafif. Human- ity, howeVer, triumphed, an they at once set about his restoration. His frozen feet and hands were bathed in snow, his clothin par- tially removed, and his body and limbs subjected to brisk rubbing. As the sluggish blood began, once more, to pulse throu h his veins, his suf- ferings became intense an be moaned aloud in ony. They did not restore him to complete con- sciousness, however. On the contrary, after forcing a small quantit of liquor d0wn his throat, they placed him in their bed, wrapped him comfortably and allowed him to fall into a troubled sleep. “He will be all right in the morning!” said Vandiver, glancing to where Updegraff lay, tossing uneasily. . “What will we do with him then?” asked Matson. Vandiver stared hard at the fire and frowned. It was a question he had been asking himself all the evening. “ I don’t know 1” he returned, finally. “I al- ways thought it the act of a 00ward to kick a man when he’s down; and yet, it would be next to criminal to let him go. If he had only fallen into our hands in some other way!” “What do you suppose he was doing out there?” Matson poked thoughtfully at the coals, as he propounded this second query. ‘ You’re too much for me!” responded the other. “ What‘s he sneaking about all the time for, anyway? A regulartramp would starve to death in these bills. It seems to me, sometimes, when I look at him, that I’ve seen him before. You’vo no doubt been impressed that way by certain faces. If I ever did, it was connected with bloodshed. I feel certain of that. though I can’t recall the circum— stances." Vandiver tossed his bearskin coat in front of the fire and threw himself down upon it. Mat— son followed his example: and soon nothing could have been heard except their heavy breathing, the bowling of the storm and the un- easy mutterings and tossings of Updegralf. It was broad day when they awoke. The blizzard had spent its fury and the sun shone with an icy glitter on leagues of drifted snow. Updegraff was gone! A single glance at the rumpled bed showed he had not occupied it for hours. A cruel gleam came into Vandiver’s eyes, as he made the discovery. “ The villain!” he grated. “ That’s the way he repays our kindness, is it? lVe’re a pair of donkeys for letting him get away. We should have tied him.” Before he had completed the exclamation he was on his feet, tugging at the bearskin coat. As soon as dressed, they hurried out, deter— mined to follow the trail of the fleeing man and bring him back. Now that he had added iiigratitude to his other offenses they felt that they would be justified in handing him over to the law. Updegraff’s tracks were plainly visible for a short distance. but when the open valley was reached they disappeared. The snow had drift- ed so badly that the trail was wholly obliter- ate . It was useless to attempt to follow it and, in no very amiable mood, they made their way back to the dug-out. A few days of fair weather succeeded and Vandiver visited the Gap with the hope of learning something of the missing man, but no one had seen him. Spring, though much delayed, came at last. One day. in returning from a long jaunt to Rapid City, Vandiver’s quick eye caught the glitter of gold amid the clay and gravel of a hillside. He hurried home in feverish haste and acquainted Matson with the discovery. Insecret they repaired to the place and by dint of great labor collected a small quantity of the precious metal. They then “ staked ofit‘ ” claims for them- selves and Tracy. christened them the thnix Mine and hurried off to Buffalo Gap. They had convinced themselves that pan- washing would not pay and hoped to interest TraCy in the mine and get him to furnish means to work it properly. In this they were successful. He also advanced money to enable them to “ prove up” on their preemptions. Havmg secured these they incorporated them- selves, with Tracy, as the Phoenix Mining Com- pany and began work in earnest. They tapped a mountain stream on the hights a half—mile away and 00nducted the water through flumes to the place where it was wanted. The largest portion of this work they performed themselves. A hundred yards of extra—strong six—inch hose, with the freight from Sydney, cost such a start- ling sum, to begin with, that the?’ dared not expend a cent more than was abso utely neces- SB"The water, coming down from the hills, had a tremendous “ head," and it required the very strongest material to hold it in check. When finallv all was ready, Tracy was sent for, that he might grace with his presence the commence- ment of the work. . _ “ Now let her b’ile!” said Tracy, 113: Wlt,” hands thrust deep into his pockets, he took his station on a little knoll and ran his keen gray es ver the “ lant.’ eyVaildiver tool); hold of the nozzle and Matson started the “stop ” in the “ main ;” and, with a whiz and roar, the six-inch stream _of water went into the bank like a young hurricane. It was truly a beautiful sight. The pressure was tremendous. An ax struck into that powerful jet would have been whisked away like a straw. A man hit by it would have been felled as by a blow from a sledge-hammer. The hard clay and gravel of the hillside melted like. snow in the summer, sunshine, and soon the sluice-boxes were running full. . It was a success, and the incorporators of the Phoenix Mining Company, as they watched the wondrous play, felt that they were on the road to fortune. v After the testing of the “ plant ” Tracy went back to Buffalo Gap and merchandismg, and Vandiver and Matson continued the work. Every other day they had a “ clean up "—that is, they let the water out.of the boxes and gath- ered up the gold-dust Which the qmckalver had collected in the “ rifiles.” _ The story of their success became naised abroad, as such things will. and the Phoenix Mine Was soon flanked and surrounded by claims and the valley filled with eager pros- pectors. The company enlarged its plant and, to use a current phrase, literally comed money. Phoenix mining stock became quotable on “ ’Change.” A ragged, rambling shanty town sprung up like a mushroom in the night. Hotels and gam- bling—hells, saloons and brothels cro Wded against each other along the narrow, crooked streets, and “ Golden City ” became known to the Post— Ofiice Department and occasionally appeared in the telegraphic columns of the Eastern dailies. Into their little, shed-like oflice came, one day, a gentlemanly appearing man of about fifty. Unknown to them he had been for more than an hour jostling with the throng up and down the bowlder strewn streets. Each timeon passing their works he had scanned them thor- oughly. Once he had made his way to the rear and reconnoitered the premises from that direc- tion. Vandiver came from a little back room and greeted him hurriedly. The stranger handed him a letter. It was an introduction and recommendation from the superintendent of a mine near Deadwood. “ Ah! glad to see you, Mr. Jackson!” said Vandiver, cordially, extending his hand. “ Yes, Jackson’s my name. J unius P. Jack- son,” and the stranger bowed oilily. “As you see by that letter, I come to apply for a position. Like others, attracted by the fame of Golden City, I couldn’t resist the temptation to visit it. The old story of the moth and the candle, you know.” The Phoenix company had recently struck a vein of “ color "in a quartz ledge and had add- ed a stamp-mill to the routfit, and now needed a man to look after that department. Jackson’s credentials were unexceptionable. and after a moment’s thought, Vandiver concluded he could not do better, erhaps, than to engage him. “ You have ad considerable experience, Mr. J acksén?”said Vandiver, inquiringly. “What Junius P. don’t know about mining isn’t in the books, sir!” declared Jackson, draw- ing himself up to his full hight. “ You’ll find, sir, on further acquaintance, that he’ll ‘ assay ’ well. It’s not his habit to boast of his own ac- quirements, but his experience is great, sir—as gram} may say, as that of any man in the i sl‘ There was something about this self-assertive stranger that impressed Vandiver unfavorably, but be dismissed it as a whim, and after a few more uestions, placed a sheet of paper on the littfle table in front of him and drew up a contract, which he signed for the Phoenix Mining thipany, and then pushed over to Jackson. The stranger appended the name “ J unius P. Jackson ” with a multiplicity of flourishes and then asked that he might be given the remainder of the da to hunt up a respectable boarding- house an transfer his luggage to it. Jackson was on han promptly the next morning and began his work with an energy anddthoroughness that left nothing to be de- sire . He performed his work so well, in fact, that at the end of the month he was promoted to the position of chief clerk in the business depart ment, with full control over the works in the absence of the proprietors. The following spring Matson departed on a trip to the East, and during his absence Van- diver ran 11 to Deadwood to get an assay of some ore. \ bile there a “ special” appeared in the Black. Hills Pioneer to the effect that a rumor had been put in circulation affecting the credit of the Phoenix Mining Company of Golden City. Vandiver turned white with indignation when he read it, and clutching the paper angrily, rushed into the street and up the office stairs two steps at a time. “ What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, tossing the paper on the editor’s desk, and point- ing with trembling finger to the offensive para- graph. The editor pushed back his chair and stared at Vandiver with the doubtful look of one who fears he may be facing a madman. “ Can’t you speak '4” snarled Vandiver. “ I say what’s the meaning of this 'é” “ \Vhy. my dear fellow, what’s wrong about it?” eXclaimed th‘e amazed editor. “ It’s simply a news item ! It came over the wires from Buf- falo Gap last night.” “ It’s simply a lie!” shouted Vandiver. “ I’m interested in the Phoenix Mine, and its affairs are as straight as a string. Some driveling idiot has sent that in and if you don’t publish a retraction I‘ll make you smoke for it.” He bounded down the steps, hurried to a telegraph-office and sent a message to Tracy. In twenty minutes came the answer: “There are ugly rumors afloat. You had better come home." The next stage bore him southward. His im- patience outran the horses, and when he reach- ed Golden City he had won ied himself alinst into a fever. “ What‘s the meaning of these rumors affect- ing our credit?” he demanded of Jackson, as ho strode into the office. That individual looked up with his peculiar, oily smile. ' “It’s ahead of Junius Pl”he answered. “I can’t make it out. There’s a cart-load of notes at the bank against you, and from an examina- tion of them I think they were signed by Mr. Matson.” Vandiver had never entertained a suspicion against Matson, and he walked over to the bank with a strangely—beating heart. . The notes were there, due and payable. and in sufficient amount to ruin the Phoenix Mining Company, should their immediate payment be pressed. As, w ith a ghastly face, he staggered from the building. a stranger brushed against him and a note was thrust into his hand. He hastily fore it open and read: “ DEAR MR. VANDivnm— “I have information which leads me to believe that your clcrk. Junius 1’. Jackson, is lotting the ruin of the Phoenix Mine. My advice Is to watch him constantly. “ Your friend and well~wisher. “ALICE LITTLETON." , . . . . '\ andivcr stared at the miss1ve as if he could not credit his Senses. ‘ “The stage—driver‘s daughter!” he muttered. ‘ What can she know about this affair?” The charge seemed preposterous; nevertheless be at once began a watch of the movements of Jackson. He telegraphed the substance of the trouble to Matson. hat individual replied, denying all knowled e of the affair and started at once for Golden ity. Four days after the first mes- sage Vandiver received a second. Matson had reached Pierre, the railway terminus and would take the stage the next day for the Hills. . . On returning to the ( fiicc, after receivm this. Vandiver could find Jackson nowhere. shade of suspicion crossed his mind. _ He re— membered the mysterious warning given by the stage - driver s daughter. Passmg on through the office he entered the rambling shed, which had been erected over the greater part of the works. His footsteps were noiseless, and after enter- ing he stopped to look about. In the far corner he saw the crouchin fig- ure of a man. It was Jackson. What con (1 he be doing there? he questioned. He moved toward him. A tiny spark caught his eye. It flashed and another answered it. Then came a shower of sparks and Jackson started to run. . The villainy of the man came to him in an in- stant. He had fired a train of powder, With the intention of blowing up the works. With a hoarse bellow of rage Vandiver threw himself upon him. Jackson evaded the blow aimed at this head, but Vandiver’s hand caught in the clerk’s flowing whiskers and they wore jerked from his face, revealing the scowlmg visage of Updegrafi' for a moment, as he fled from the building. With spiteful, little puffs the fire was eating its way toward the mass of deadly explosives, and Vandiver saw that pursuit was impossible. With a baffled roar he turned toward this new enemy. A black line of powder trailed across the sand and at this he dashed frantically. With one rake of his heavy boot he scattered it and then sunk to the ground, weak as a child. Not two feet from where he sat were enough explosives to have wrecked the entire mine. A Dakota Blizzard. A Story of the White River Country. BY JACK CLERMONT. “ THE flour is ’most gone, and the oil and sugar as well. When do you think of going to town, John f" Gentle little Mira Bird paused in her dish- washing to address her broad-shouldered, hand- some husband. “ I don‘t know, wifey dear, but if that’s the case I rather think I’d best go to-day. I did want to get in all the corn and fodder before winter set in, or I would have gone before this. Hey, Willie boy, ‘Go with fatherl’ Oh. I don’t guess you’d better; there’s an ugly little cloud in the northwest, and I shall want to make quick time.” But making quick time over twenty good miles to the nearest town, with two hard-worked farm-horses,meantto put in two-thirds of a day at best. Notwithstanding ten year-old Willie’s plead- ings, and little five-year—old Bessie’s sobs, the children were ordered to stay at home and take care of their mother. “ There’s a queer feeling in the air. I'm 0- ingto throw in the wagon the big bufi'alo—roge; you may be back later than you think, John.” But the brave farmer onl laughed at the idea of the robe on such a mi d day; still his wife persisted, and tumbled it in, the ast thing as he drove away. The were new settlers in Dakota, and al- thoug the had heard through their neighbors of the terri le blizzards, they had never experi- enced one. - When John reached town, he found he must stop at the blacksmith’s, as one of his mares had cast a shoe. There were innumerable other odds and ends to attend to, as there usually is, when families only go to a store every three or four months, and it was none-:1? nightfall before he got started back homew . “ I say, neighbor,”called out the blacksmith, as he gathered up his lines, “ better stop over- night. I don’t like thelooks 0’ them clouds. ” .‘ Oh, no, I must return to-night,” declared “ Then don’t spare the horses; make it in two hours if possible, but I’m ’feard you can’t.” But before the last words had left his mouth, John Bird had cashed away at a Swift trot. The ugly little black cloud had spread until a great black mass, reaching seemingly to the tall prairie grass,swung angrily before him, and the ominous calm around him only fore- told the terrible storm that was coming. “ I won’t go back. I’ve passed over five miles of the way now, and Mary and the children will be scared to death. Get up, Pollyl get up, you lazy Peg!” The horses struck out boldly; but, with a ter- rific roar and rumble, a blast, i-y cold, was borne over them, that chilled them through and through. Wilder and more terrible it grew, and dark- ness was fast falling over the desolate plain. Bird, aroused at last to the full danger of his situation, leaped out of his wagon. iinhitched the horses from it, threw the big buffalo over Polly’s shivering back, and, mounting the other horse, dashed bravely out to the northward, where he fortunately remembered there was an old sheep corral, made of cottonwood posts and with an adobe shelter in one corner. This adobe’s walls were intact save on one side, which was entirely exposed. Into this poor shelter Bird urged his horses, until up in one far corner of the corral they were in a measure secure from the pelting sn0w and cutting wind. If they could keep from freezing to death, they might survive the terrible night. The snow fell in a steady down-drive, dashed hither and thither by the tearing,roaring wind. “Poor little wife!” thought Mr. Bird; “ how scared she will be! I fear the. wind will tear down this adobe. Lucky for me Mary thought of this warm robe, and that I remembered the old deserted corral! Hello, what’s that?” “fell mi ht he ask the question, for the houses had rushet to the further side of the open cor— ral. “ Some wild animal, or animals,” thought Bird, peering out of his shelter, grasping his huge hunting-knife, and feeling for his revol— ver, remembering that his good rifle had been left in the wagon. “ Heavens! they are wolves, hundreds of them, and starving tool I have merely jumped from the frying-pun into the fire, it seems. Alas! the poor horses! They are after them now. My turn will come next.” Then striking a match he saw ii place in the upper portion of the walls of adobe. large enough to hold his person, where the walls had sunken away from the rude roof; but, could he reach it in time? Another match showed him a slight footing, and be eagerly climbed up, drawing the buffalo- robe after him, for he knew Without it he would in all probability freeze to death, if he eScaped from the starving horde of the vicious brutes. Back they came, with snarl and growl, but the nook where John rested, revolver and knife in hand, was a few inches beyond their most agile leaps. What a night of horror that was, with the fierce storm raging without, and one no less ap« palling raging within. An ugly gray dawn came at last, but still in the darkness of the old adobe the eyes of the wolves burned rcdly. The entrance was piled high with drifted snow. The wolves, now growing hungricr and bold- er. leaped upon the wall, and others upon their fellows, until only the steady thrusts from the long hunting-knife would send them tumbling back, to be torn in pieces by their hungry mates. He l But the brave man was growing weaker. felt he could not hold out many hours against such odds. Suddenly he saw a break in the snow. What did it mean? Help was at hand! shovels were at work! “ Hallo! neighbor, are ye here?”called out a cheery voice. “Jupiter! boys; look to your rifles! Here’s a whole pack 0’ wolves! I fear poor Bird is a goner.” Crack, crack. crack, crash, tear, went the firearms, and away sped the terrified wolves, leaving the ground strewn with their fallen numbers. “ Here I am l” called out John Bird, crawling down from his high perch. “ All right, boys but you came just in time. How did you fin me?’ “ By the bones 0’ your poor horses. One got a’most out to the trail, an’ t‘other one just to the edge 0’ this old corral; Glad to find you alive, neighbor; an’ I guess your wife and chil- dren will be. You came off lucky to lose noth— iii’ more than your two horses. Wolves hero ain’t generally dangerous, only when they get together in sich big hordes and are starving. Et the roads had been clear 0’ snow-drifts, the horses would have escaped, poor critters.” “I hope I’ll never be caught in a blizzard again out on the open prairie.” “Oh, we all get used to sich things, after ’while; and they don’t amount to much, then.” And such really is the case. The people living on all the vast regions swept by t ese terrible blizzards so “ get used to them” as to dread them only for those who are not forewarned in time to get to “ cover.” To be exposc'd “ in the open” moans almost sure death to man and beast; and if any one is abroad, his neighbors at once, as soon as the storm “lets up,” start out on the trail—in most cases to find a stiffened corse to bear home for burial. Big Ben’s Phantom. BY H. S. KELLER. IN the good old palmy days, Flush Deck was a place of much importance; but palmy days, like stormy days, don’t last forever. When t e diggings began to pan out dross, or “ noopay ” dirt. the pilgrims made other ar- rangements. Their new point was finally lo- cated some two hundred miles further up the val- ley, where, it was said, some lucky finds had been struck. That was ten years ago. The new diggings didn’t last as long as the Deck‘s; hence, a few of the boys drifted back to the old *‘ berg ” and settled down, satisfied with small, sure finds, which they preferred to following blind leads and di ging up strange gravel. Flush Deck has own whiskers—though they are of a grizzle , draggled and non-satis- fying growth. Still, they were rooted deep and the boys knew where their bread and canned meat, powder, lead, steel, tobacco and whisky came from. One of the first men to shake the soil of Flush Deck from his feet was Ben Nevers, or “Big Ben,” as he was more commonly known. Nevers had the frame and strength of a Her- cules, and the heart and disposition of a child. But that disposition was very uncertain. At depth it was a mild pool of water: but roil the pool by insults, and it burst forth like a stream of fiery lava. The very first man to return to the Deck af- ter the new diggings gave out was Big Ben. He found his little cabin up the hillside in the same condition as when he left it. The same smoke-stained rafters, the same black spot upon the clay floor in front of the flrcplncr, the same bunk in one corner, and, in fact, all the same old familiar place so dear to him in the past, now doubl dear because he had finally made up his min to make it his future abiding-spot on earth. It was dark when Ben lifted the old latch and opened the door. The place smelt musty and confined—still, it was home once more. He struck a match, lighted a candle which had stood iipon the shelf just as he left it six months ago. e pulled some pine-knots out of the cor- ner, piled them in the fireplace, and soon had a ruddy blaze roaring up the clay—plastered chim~ ne . The coyotes prowling about in the dark shadows of the woods pricked up their ears as they heard the crackling wood, and then slunk away. There was no room for them where man had again taken up his habitation. After a light bite from his small store of provisions Ben laid his blankets upon the bunk, pulled off his boots and seated himself before the fire. . It was a peculiar face, that, flashed and light- ed by the red beams. There were lines of sor- row about the corners of the mouth, and some traces of deep thought knitted the square, well- shaped forehead. he nose, finely-formed and curving proudly at the nostrils; the eyes, deep- set, shaded by long lashes, but blue as the skies of California: the white, rounded throat; the grandly-limned head with its wealth of corn- colored hair—all, Big Ben, the best-tempered man in the world who hid his magnificent face behind a mask of bronze heard. The face was that of a young man; but the lines, the depth of eyes, and the general expres- sion gave it an appearance of premature age. As he sits there gazing into the fire, the same old pictures idenlists have. been wont to place therein arose before him. His lips move, and sad, sweet, plaintive tones fall from them, fashioning themselves into words—words whose import tells the story of the strange, lonely man’s past: “ Loved and lost! Betrayed to my doom by the glow of fair cheeks and the fascinating smiles of a siren. I was a fool, a pitiable, blind fool. Yet men have been fools before; few men have suffered more the consci ucnces of one moment of blind folly. To bed, poor fool, and sleep! Thcre is work to-morrow. In the morning you resume your old labor, and— pain and weariness for recompense.” Strange words, out there in the Wild West! Strange words, or the mutterings of a poet; sure— ly not the words of evsry—day, common place life. What did he mean? The fire burned low and the shadows flittering about the place soon are growing deeper and (lee wr. The deep brcatliing of the sleeper is bro en occasionally by quick, sharp gasps, and over and anon the sound of a sob comes. Then, starting up from his sleep, and tossing his arms about his bend, and pushing his hands from him, palms outward us though warding off the ii iproiich of some visionary object, lie fried a oiid: “ Away, false one! “’hy do you come born to drive me mud? Have I not already rcpcntcd of my folly! liavc I not paid tho penalty? Why do you lure me-——” Then he stopped, bent eagerly forward as though fixing his eyes upon some. form. “The same fiilsc light in vour sweet, bluo eyes: the some fascinating smile; the same rosy cheeks where Cupids play hide-and-scck among the dimples; the same ilcwy lips where off my lips in love’s rare kisses were wont to sip the honey dcw. ()li, Heaven! You are false, Lur— for one more sight of your face, and my ears thirst for the low, sweet music of your ‘voiw. Lurliiic, I come, I come!“ ‘ As in a dream hc arose, hastily clothed him— Self and rushed bare-bonded fioin the cabin. 0n, on, like tluI wind, with his yellow hair streaming behind him, be rushed. Allefore him a precipice arose, iind~— upon the very vcrgc of this precipice stood u white figure. VVitb urms outstretched toward the figure, Big lion rushed onward. Neiii'cr, iionrcr, yet ncnrcr he up~ pronchcd. “"l‘is liui'linc—liurlinc, with her fair face and angelic form. liurliiic, I come; angel of my heart, I comi-l” I ()il' into space. yet. poised like it winged bird in air above the frightful depth, the white form moved. line; false as Satan! But my eyes are uhunger Off into space—sinking like a leaden weight, down, down. With one shriek of horror as he burst the bonds of the fatal, terrible night- mare—poor Ben Nevers stepped. The next morning the other boys came back to Flush Deck to resume their old life there. It was St. Valentine’s Day—and they brought with them the poor, mangled and dead body of big Ben. . The yellow hair Was dabbled With red, and the handsome face crushed out of all semblance of humanit . . They tookythe body up to the cabin and laid it upon the bunk. ' About the ankles were the marks of prison- irons. “ Bi Ben has been in limbo—” “ Quiet thar, Pony. Big Ben war .a squar‘ man. No man can say aught ag’in’ him, an —— b the God that made us all, no man shall! e are dead now.” Under the shadow of the old trees he loved so well, as the roseate hue began to_flush the sky in the west, the pilgrims laid Big Ben to rest. What was his secret? No matter. Why had he rushed to his doom? It was a dream. Who was the fair Lurline? Men say there are fair forms who lure mon’s souls to death. No mat- ter. Big Ben sleeps in his loncly grave on the hillside, and the secret of his life is buli'icd with him. And, perhaps—who knows?—1n God's great kingdom the marks of the prison-irons may be erased from his limbs. An Astonished Boniface. WHEN the late Rev. Dr. Kirkland was presi— dent of Harvard College, Porter’s famous hostelry in North Cambridge was a favorite re- sort, and many a merry party gathered in the cold winter days and nights about its roaring wood fires. One of the chief attractions of Por- ter’s was the “ flip,” a delectable compound of a decidedly spirituous flavor which acquier a characteristic “ tone ” by being heated with a bot iron. The farmers and droveis who fre- quentcd the noted hostelry were not the only customers for the flip. The college students keenly appreciated its attractions, and did not hgsitate to brave the coldest weather to enjoy t em. - Of course these practices did not escape the attention of President Kirkland, who resolved to ascertain for himself the nature of the bever- age which the students indulged in. So he went up to the old hostelry and asked to see the land- lord. Porter, who knew the president, was greatly disturbed, as he knew he should receive a severe rebuke from the head of the college for catering to the tastes of convivially-inclmed students. - “ Porter,” said Dr. Kirkland in a grave tone “ I understand my young men come up here and drink your fli .” “ Yes, sir,’ re lied the tavern-keeper in a voice which to! how he deprecated the ex— pected admonition, “they do.’ “ Let me. have some of that flip,” said the dig- nified president. Whercupon a mug of the beverage was brOIight out and was tested by Dr. Kirkland. Then, fixmg a stern glance upon Porter, who almost trembled under it, the president said: “ And my oung men come out here and drink this am , do they ?” “ Yes, sir,” meekly re iliod the tavern-keeper. “ Well ” said Dr. irkland, draining the mug, “ I should think they would."-—Iloston Post. Telephone Echoes. A .iomm sugmsts that if thorn in nu 'ono who should be ‘ rapped iii slunibi-r,"lt it tho man who shores. A CHEESE factory is to be started at Carats cas, South America. The natives will then live, no doubt, on Cnraccns and cheese. A WEARY sojourncr in Iowa saw one day on a soap—box in the grocery window the startling legend, “ Sixt bars." “ Good gracious,” he exclaimed,“ I’( like to know where. I‘ve walk all over the county and can’t find one of them. A POLITICAL orator, speaking of a certain general whom he professed to admire, said that on the field of battle he was always found where the bullets were thickest. “ there was that'.’ asked one of the auditors. “ In the ammunition wagon,” said another. CHARLES MATHEWS, being one evening in the front of the house, and seeing a gentleman putting on his coat preparatory to leaving, ex— claimed: “ I beg pardon, sir, but there is still another act.” “ Which is precisely the reason," replied the other, “ why I'm going.” “ I 8 today your birthday, Mr. Gingerbread i” asked Johnny, of a young man in the parlor. “ No, Johnny. Why do you ask 1” “ She is goin to make you a present. She said so.” “ Iiideet . What did she say i” “ She said you’d been com- ing here long enough, and that she’d give you the mitten to-night.” THE Hinghnm Journal tells of a Hiugham lady, who, having complained of being unable to tell her mince pics from her apple pics with- out testing, was advised to mark them. She did so, and complacently announced: “This l‘ve marked ‘ T. M.’—”l‘1's Mince, un’ that I’ve marked ‘ T. M.‘—”I'(iin’f Mince.” THE editor of a theatrical papcr has asked a number of English actors to say, “ What is the most striking incident in your professional ex— perience?" “ Tho most si'l'lklllg incident that I can remember," writes Mr. Irving, “ was when the ‘ slote’ in ‘ Faust’ struck me on the bond in— stcnd of carrying me up into the. lllt‘S nbovc. LITTLE LOUISA, not three years old, was ob» served us she sat at the table to uttciiipt to spit with great energy into the (‘()l'll(‘l‘ of her bib, and when asked what she was doing, said: ” I trying to spit out my tooth as Aunt Mary Ann does.” l’oor Aunt Miiry Auiis‘s false teeth hurt her, so she slyly slipped them out into her napkin when she sat down to the table, fondly hoping she was unobserved, but the little onc’s sharp cycs luid $00!] licr. [N one of the Sunday-schools last Sunday the teacher of acluss of littlclmysinquin'd of each one if he thought ho had become a better boy during the year of which that was tho lust. Sun- diiy. l‘luch answered in tho aflli'iimtivo except one little ciglit— 'ciir-old, who was silent. The question was as cd him a second time, when With much earnestness he replied: “ [am just as worse us I over was.” 11‘ is said that a Uticu mother the othnr day, when putting her four—ycni'old daughter to bcd,uskcd hor if she did not fool thankful for her good home and kind purcnts und othordiiily blessings. “No, I do iiot,"suid tho littlo ono, just to be lKfl‘Vf‘l'Hf‘. But when safe in bod and alone in the room her mother ovorhcnrd her saying: “ Yes: lhave a nice pupa iiud lliflill‘ inn, and ever thing good. and, dear Lord, I am much obligetll” Two Chicago men discussed the weather the other morning, one claiming that the mercury was below 7.010, the other that it was above. Then they backed up tboir opinions with money, and burned to the nearest drugr store to con— sult the thermometer. The man who thought the weather extremely cold was iii-:ir-sighwd, and while he was engaged in preparing to look at the instrument the other held his lighted cigar under the bulb and won his bet with case. ['1‘ is rclutcd that. ii proud father of twins in- vited a friend to dine with him. The friend camo, in ii condition moi-o befitting a man who had (liiicd than one about to dine. The twins bud boon riggcd out in their best. bibs and tuck ors und slit in hiin chairs side by side. “ 'l‘licio " said the proud futbor, ‘ did you over soc any— thing to match iluit t” The friend looked at tho twms, and. conscious that ho was in ii condition to see (ltlllllll‘ said with grout gravity: " Yeah. 'l'lui‘s splciidid child.” :=a.£—-.=.:~.,:-.-.:. 2 , ‘7; 12?- :flfi’a,xfi 31;!“ .33 092'; - 31* 2» - i5 4.... swampsgaag': . ‘” Maven-‘5‘ u. «awash-as mammaazméesfigaaaafi‘ » ' ‘ “‘- ‘u" titrvmsflérfimkub-rhxi-We- :, ,i. “~41 #- . gum .r«-/.<..-§~",t.sr:r 5% r.» "ya. .,.;~;s‘ro'a.z£:jv;t:.ao='